Last weekend, I went with my sons to a powerful art show at the Brantford Arts Block called Mush Hole Remembered: R. G. Miller by the accomplished Mohawk artist R. Gary Miller-Lahiaaks (This show runs until April 9, 2011).

The best commentary on this show is that which is included in the show itself. The artist and curator’s statements are powerful and moving. These statements are found at the end of this post.

The show consists of paintings and drawings inspired by Miller’s experiences as a child inmate at the Mohawk Institution, a.k.a. the Mush Hole. The Mohawk Institute was Brantford’s local Indian residential school, closed down in 1969. This former school lies about 3 km from downtown Brantford, near the banks of the meandering Grand River.

The fact that the artist refers to himself as an inmate, as opposed to a student, is indicative of the nature of the place. It was more a prison than a school. The brutalizing tendencies of this institution was more prominent than any educational intent or result.

Attending the Mohawk Institute was an extremely painful experience for the artist, which has reverberated throughout his adult life. Miller’s experiences at the school included beatings, rapes and hunger.

The fact that places like the The Mohawk Institute exist is an inconvenient truth in Canadian history.

Not surprisingly, this early trauma created demons for Miller, which he has had to overcome. One way he battles these demons is by producing art and exhibiting his work. His process of healing is an ongoing one.

Commentary

The art

The works in the show are in a variety of media. The most prominent are paintings of native boys and girls standing in front of the Mohawk Institute.

The children seem happy enough and appear to derive support and camaraderie from each other. One message you might derive from these paintings is that although the Mohawk Institute may have been brutal and racist, at least the children had each other. I’m sure the reality was more nuanced than that.

There are drawings in the exhibition that suggest the Mohawk Institute was a site of inhumanity on par with other physical and cultural genocides, such as the Jewish Holocaust and the Cambodian killing fields. There are images of skulls and of death cults. There is a drawing of an emaciated figure reminiscent of the liberation of death camps in WWII. One large drawing of a crying child reminds me of the famous photograph of the Vietnamese girl running from a napalm attack. A painting of a very young child suggests that the abuse and horror of the Mohawk Institute were inflicted on even the youngest inmates.

The Mohawk Institute is clearly represented by Miller as Brantford’s ‘Heart of Darkness.’

Buildings have a prominent role in Miller’s paintings. They are painted in a lurid, expressionistic style that suggests that despite a facade of Victorian respectability, unspeakable cruelties occurred inside.

Also prominent in the artwork is the so-called Mohawk Chapel, which still stands across the road from the Mohawk Institute. The Mohawk Chapel, whose official name is Her Majesty’s Royal Chapel of the Mohawks (St Paul’s), was the first Protestant church in Upper Canada and is now the oldest surviving church in Ontario.

In Miller’s paintings these two institutions are joined together. In the daily routines of the children, they were probably either at the Mohawk Institute or they were across the road at the chapel.

However, the proximity and relationship of the Mohawk Chapel to the Mohawk Institute is a disquieting one. It was a close relationship between the two power centres of the time: the church and the state. However, it was a relationship that did not bode well for the humane treatment of native children.

The overall message of the exhibition is clear: native children suffered greatly at the Mohawk Institute, that the artist was one such child who suffered there and that this oppression was systemic, institutionalized and supported by church and state working together.

The final solution

As the curator Neal Keating writes: The Indian residential school system was an attempt at a “final solution” to Canada’s Indian problem.

The reference to a ‘final solution’ is clearly eliminationist in spirit. This is what ties the practices of the Mohawk Institute into instances of genocide in other parts of the world.

There is this two-fold aspect to such genocidal tendencies: one, that the mere existence of a people presents some kind of threat or problem to a dominant population, and two, that simply getting rid of the minority population is a sensible way to address the manufactured problem.

The Mohawk Institute closed in 1969, after 140 years of “killing the Indian in the child.” That is a long time for a system, which is today widely considered as fundamentally racist and abusive. This system was not a flash in the pan. It lasted far, far longer than the Nazi regime in Germany, the killing fields era in Cambodia, the genocide in Rwanda and even the apartheid regime in South Africa.

Having your kids taken away

A particularly appalling aspect of the residential school system is the fact that it involved forcibly separating children from their parents and other communal care givers.

Children were often removed from their families at an early age. The level of care at residential schools was typically brutal and oppressive. The mortality rates were shockingly high. Some children spent most of their childhood in places like the Mohawk Institute. The only reason that many native parents sent their children to residential schools was because the government forced them to.

Children were not allowed access to their language or culture. Indeed, this was the whole point of the residential school system: to break the bonds of traditional culture within aboriginal families.

If the government does not trust you to raise your own children adequately, this in effect devalues all of native culture. Indeed, the history of Canada like most other New World countries is noted for its pervasive devaluation of native cultures. This process of devaluation continues to this day.

A childhood spent in such appalling conditions is not conducive to forming habits of self that serve you well in adulthood. A process of self-alienation is expected to result in dissociative psychological disorders and self-destructive behaviors. This is what Miller reports happened to him. His experience at the Mohawk Institute is still a raw wound.

The system

As students of Canadian history are aware, the Indian residential school system is one of the darker episodes of Canadian history.

For those who study the system, it appears less like a curious anomaly in Canadian history and more of an inherent aspect of native and non-native relations in this country. The residential school system was systematic and bureaucratic in nature, fully supported by the Government of Canada.

In 2008, The Government of Canada apologized for the residential school system.

At the time, it seemed like the apology was of some significance to First Nations people but that it meant much less to those outside that community. It is this asymmetrical nature of the apology that strikes me as odd.

True apologies involve some moral cost to those making the apology. It should bring some sense of shame to some people. I am not sure that this apology was of that type.

When this apology occurred in was just another news item. It was like it happened long ago and did not necessarily affect people today. Yet we know from Miller’s work that the effects of the system reverberate loud and clear in the minds of its victims.

Therefore, I saw little psychological or emotional connection between the non-native population–most of whom see it as an issue which doesn’t affect them directly–and the very real psychological pain felt by First Nations people. The Schindler’s List of the residential school system has yet to be made.

Canadians haven’t arrived at the point where they see the racism and brutality of the residential school system not as an incidental aspect of sending native children away to learn from a supposedly superior culture, but as its fundamental aspect.

Conclusion

Standing in front of Brantford’s Mohawk Institute is a weird and disquieting experience. You really do get the feeling that if these bricks could talk they would tell a sad and painful tale.

There is something about this city of Brantford, its meandering Grand River, the former residential school with its spooky facade and grounds, the nearby Mohawk Chapel, all of which are down the road from the largest Indian reserve in Canada. There is a strange confluence of forces there, which do not appear to be benign or entirely in the past.

The children in residential schools were inmates. Their only crime was that they were aboriginal. Despite being completely innocent these children were treated as if they were guilty of some unspeakable crime. The fact that trauma was inflicted as a matter of government policy is a continuing source of pain for First Nations.

The artist R. Gary Miller suffered greatly under this system. His way forward–his means of survival–was not to remain silent. He expresses clearly through his art what the residential school system has done to him. I applaud his courage.

As the curator Neal Keating writes “The curriculum of the Mohawk Institute taught the artist that aboriginal culture was wrong, that aboriginal language was forbidden and that aboriginal spirituality was particularly abhorrent.”

This suggests that the opposite is likely true: that aboriginal culture is as correct as any other and is worthy of respect, that aboriginal languages are the bedrock of native culture and cannot be denied without harming the culture in fundamental ways, and that native spirituality is not only not abhorrent but likely presents the best approach in healing from wounds afflicted by an aggressive and brutal alien culture.

Statements from the exhibition

Exhibition title

MUSH HOLE REMEMBERED: R. G. MILLER

“Mush Hole” is the nickname for the Indian residential school that was
officially known as the Mohawk Institute. R. Gary Miller-Lahiaaks (Mohawk, b. 1950, Six Nations) was put into the Mush Hole in 1952, when he was 2 years old. He was kept there for the next 11 years, until 1963. As a child-inmate in the Mush Hole, Miller was subjected to severe beatings, repeated rapes, and chronic hunger. All this delivered by the non-Native adult supervisors who exercised total power over the Indian children’s lives; this in the name of Christianity and Civilization.

Artist’s statement

This exhibition represents a combination of vague, mundane memories of years at the school, and flashes of horror experienced there. They are the strongest memories I could approach without descending into a place I would not be able to emerge from.

This project evolved from decades of need to express my personal outrage at the world, combined with a moment of political timeliness. I thought it would be groundbreaking and exciting to tackle – it turned into four years of nightmares and breakdowns, until I realized I had a more fragile grip on my center than I knew. This was as close as I could come with sharing my story.

Perhaps other Residential School Survivors will take up the gauntlet and excise their demons in their own way. Mine have only been exposed – not destroyed. l know now that I cannot carry on living on the surface of my self. My artwork previous to the conception of this project has always been an attempt to find a raison d’étre and self-respect. I am incomplete and l need help to heal and achieve peace with my past. You cannot cauterize an infected wound.

R. Gary Miller-Lahiaaks, 2008

Curator’s Statement

Sometimes art is created for the purposes of revealing truths that hurt, and performing a rite of exorcism. This is one of those occasions. Like tens of thousands of other First Nations people alive in Canada today, R. Gary Miller-Lahiaaks (Mohawk, b. 1950, Six Nations) is surviving the Indian residential school experience. This exhibit is about that experience, and the memory of trauma induced by a genocidal system aimed at achieving a “final solution” to Canada’s Indian problem. The residential school that Miller was in was the Mohawk Institute, a.k.a. “the Mush Hole,” which finally closed down in 1969, after some 140 years of “killing the Indian in the child.” It is significant that the first opening of this exhibit is taking place on the site of the former
Mush Hole, which is today the Woodland Cultural Centre.

R. Gary Miller was put into the Mush Hole in the early 1950s, when he was very young, two or three years old. He remained there for the next 11 years, until 1964. In the four decades since then he has been hospitalized numerous times for a variety of psychiatric disorders. He has repeatedly attempted suicide, been arrested for assault, wrecked his marriages, and developed severe substance abuse and other health problems. A common pattern is evident in the thick file of medical and police records for Miller: when the doctors and nurses asked him why he did it, he invariably answered that it was because of what happened to him in the Mush Hole.

What happened to him? Like many others, Miller’s childhood was burned up in the aboriginal holocaust of Canada. His young body was regularly beaten for some nine years (starting at the age of four or live), serially raped and molested for more than six years, and undernourished for all eleven years. In addition to this, the curriculum of the Mohawk Institute taught him that aboriginal culture was wrong, that aboriginal language was forbidden, and that aboriginal spirituality was particularly abhorrent.

Neal Keating, 2008

I knew little about EBM before I read the article, however, the concept of evidence-based practice (not necessarily as it applies to medicine) is something I have been thinking about for awhile. The EBM concept can probably be applied to all sorts of things.

EBM is based on the primacy of empirical findings, as opposed to other forms of reasoning. Evidence, as I understand it, forms the foundation of the scientific revolution of the 17th century, following the work of Francis Bacon, René Descartes and others. Evidence is at the root of science. If there is no empirical evidence then there is no science.

What was interesting about the article is that initially EBM was a controversial idea. It sounds like it remains controversial in some circles. This is surprising. Naively, you might think that EBM would be welcomed with open arms everywhere. For those with no background in medical diagnosis, it is difficult to conceive of a credible alternative to EBM.

Why then was EBM controversial? The article quotes Sackett:

“…all the old guys rejected it [EBM] because it challenged them. All the young guys loved it because it gave them a way to challenge their seniors in a more polite way, instead of telling them they were out of date. In addition, people who are wed to certain policies, if they have already decide what the answer is for an individual or a community, the last thing they want to hear or see is evidence.”

As Sackett suggests, some factors that may impinge on the rational aspects of scientific practice are patriarchy: older men wanting to maintain their authority regardless of the evidence; careerism: people wanting to promote their careers; and indulgence of egos: placing personal egos above efficacy of treatment or quality of ideas.

Scientists usually try to project an image of rationality–that the scientific method forces them to work strictly from available evidence. This is obviously an idealized portrayal of scientific practice. The work of Popper, Kuhn, and Feyerabend shows how scientific practice can be much messier than the idealized portrayal would suggest. For those familiar with the history of science, it should come as no surprise that people working within scientific domains can sometimes be no more scientific than any other segment of the population.

Scientific evidence often works against our intuition. Evidence can reveal the strangeness and unpredictability of the world. The way the world works is often more complicated than we we usually feel it should be. Truth can often be counter-intuitive. If you rely more on evidence rather than on preconceptions of what ought to be true, then you have to deal with a more complex world.

In addition, there is always the possibility that what you feel you ‘know’ is built on incorrect ideas or theories. In this case, in order to move forward you may have to takes several step backward and perhaps revise fundamental scientific theories. The history of science is not a linear, progressive cakewalk towards the truth: there may be lots of creative destruction along the way.

Most fields, whether scientific or not, depend on evidence to some degree. Architects bring in evidence that suggests their designs will help rather than harm the communities in which they are situated, politicians use evidence to corroborate that their policies will have good consequences rather than bad ones, business people use evidence that their business plans will end in profitability rather than bankruptcy.

In any field this evidence can be manipulated, misrepresented or simply disregarded. Quite often there is available evidence to inform a decision but there is little desire to search for this evidence if the evidence may prove inconvenient for preconceived policies. Scientists are not the only ones who can behave unscientifically.

Express yourself first, edit later

• Don’t expect the first expression of an idea to be elegant, well-formed, or to make any sense
• Through skillful editing, silk purses can be made from sow’s ears
• The writing/editing process is highly iterative; don’t be surprised if it takes time

Writing as a tool for thinking

• As you write you might start to think about things in a new way
• It may be difficult to predict where a document might lead before you actually write it
• This emergent aspect is what makes writing exciting

Mechanical editing

• A large part of editing is mechanical or technical and thus could, in theory, be automated (that is, any monkey could be trained to do it)
• Such editing need not be too difficult conceptually

Good content requires more than technique

• Even with perfect technical editing, there is no guarantee that the content of writing will have any value

Number of words

• If you can express the same thought in fewer words, then use fewer words
• However, don’t be too miserly with words; excessive density or compactness of writing should be avoided

Contiguity of similar ideas

• Put ideas that are similar, next to one another, using cut and paste
• If there is repetition, then get rid of something
• Don’t say the same thing in different parts of the same document, except occasionally for rhetorical effect

Order and flow

• Often, sufficient ideas are present in a document but are not in the proper order
• Put ideas in the proper order so that they flow well and unfold elegantly

Conclusions

• If you make a conclusion using words such as ‘therefore’ or ‘so’, you should support your conclusion with a progression of plausible assertions
• Don’t assume, as a given, what you are tying to prove
• Sometimes lines of reasoning lead to crazy conclusions; sometimes such conclusions turn out to be true

Avoid conclusions if necessary

• Often the available evidence is too sketchy or ambiguous to make firm conclusions
• Asking the right questions might be a worthwhile contribution

Back to front structure

• If you come to an interesting conclusion at the end of a document, it might be a good idea to put that idea at the beginning so people have some idea where you are headed

Hidden assumptions

• Hidden assumptions are things assumed to be true without their existence being acknowledged and with no evidence of their truthfulness provided
• Try to identity and examine hidden assumptions; this can often be an interesting and fruitful enquiry

Knowledge as ‘frozen ignorance’

• Often things that ‘everyone knows’ turn out not to be true
• Assume that your ignorance of the world is much greater than your knowledge