Parks Canada Tries to Cancel Sir John A. Macdonald in his Own Home

“You can’t go home again,” American novelist Thomas Wolfe once wrote. Should the same advice apply to the home of Canada’s most important political personality? Greg Piasetzki first visited Bellevue House, one-time Kingston abode of Canada’s founding father Sir John A. Macdonald, when he was a university student in the 1970s. Now, following a controversial renovation of the site by Parks Canada that aims to tell “broader, more inclusive stories about Canada’s first prime minister” – a makeover that includes signs denouncing Macdonald as “a monster” in his own home – Piasetzki returns to Bellevue House to take the measure of the changes.

When my wife and I were students at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario in 1978, we often spent our weekends enjoying the city’s many delightful amenities, including sailing on Lake Ontario and visiting local historic sites. Among the places we frequented was Bellevue House, the one-time home of Kingston’s most famous resident and Canada’s first prime minister, Sir John A. Macdonald.

Built in 1840 by a wealthy local merchant and rented to Macdonald and his wife Isabella in 1848-1849, the house is a striking example of the Italianate style of architecture that was new at the time and quickly became popular among the well-to-do. With expectations that Kingston might soon become the capital of Canada, the ambitious Macdonald settled into the glamourous residence as a recently-elected legislator for Canada West (present-day Ontario) in pre-Confederation Canada.

Bellevue House was the Kingston, Ontario home of Sir John A. Macdonald, Canada’s first prime minister, (top left) and his wife Isabella (top right) in the 1840s; it was later purchased by the federal government ahead of Canada’s 1967 Centennial and designated a National Historic Site in 1995. At bottom, the house circa 1891. (Source of bottom photo: Courtesy of Agnes Etherington Art Centre)

It was not a happy time for the young family, unfortunately. The rent on the house was beyond their modest means and their first son, John Jr., died there as an infant. The Macdonalds left Bellevue House shortly afterwards. The house remained a private residence until the federal government purchased it in 1964 and turned it into an historic park as part of Canada’s 1967 Centennial celebrations; it was designated a national historic site in 1995. When we first visited, Bellevue House looked every one of its 138 years.

Despite its fascinating backstory, Bellevue House in 1978 was a rather dreary experience. There was no bright and airy visitor centre on the grounds to welcome guests, as there is now. The house itself was poorly lit and signage inside said little about Macdonald or his many accomplishments. (Perhaps because most visitors learned all about him in school.) Several of the upstairs rooms were closed to the public and the washrooms were located in a grim basement. The surrounding gardens were also quite spartan. Visitors mostly came to admire the architecture and period furnishings (or what they could make out in the gloom) and pay homage to Canada’s founding father.

Major renovations were carried out in the 1980s, including construction of a reception centre where the carriage house used to be. Two upstairs rooms were re-opened as period bedrooms and the basement was returned to its original role as a scullery; the public washrooms were moved to the new visitor centre. Despite the improvements, however, the house’s aging infrastructure – floors, wiring, roof, and so on – remained largely untouched and slowly rotted away during the ensuing years.

Given the impressive modernization effort, Bellevue House is arguably in better shape today than when it was first built.

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In 2012, Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s Conservative government dramatically reduced Parks Canada funding as part of its plan to return the federal budget to balance. Along with many other historic sites across the country, Bellevue House had its opening hours and staff sharply reduced. Necessary structural repairs were also put off. By 2017 it was in such bad shape that it was closed year-round. This past May it was finally reopened to the public. According to Parks Canada, which oversees Canada’s historic sites, the “extensive renewal” of Bellevue House now “tells broader, more inclusive stories about Canada’s first Prime Minister, Sir John A. Macdonald.” It’s a good news/bad news situation.

“Extensive renewal”: Bellevue House was closed in 2017 due to its deteriorating condition; Parks Canada re-opened it to the public in May 2024 following a comprehensive modernization project. Shown, Bellevue House undergoing repairs in 2020. (Source of photo: Bellevue House National Historic Site/Facebook)

First the Good News

This summer my wife and I returned to Bellevue House for the first time since our student days. We are pleased to report it looks fantastic. The new stucco, moulding, panelling, paint and roof work have the place literally gleaming. The gardens have been enlarged and are now well-suited to a leisurely ramble. A spacious parking area has also been added since we last visited. The well-lit rooms are packed with decorative and practical articles from Macdonald’s era. And a team of eager young staff seem well-informed and keen to engage with visitors, although they’ll leave you alone if you prefer to wander at your own pace.

Given the impressive modernization effort, Bellevue House is arguably in better shape today than when it was first built. And that is important. While Macdonald’s short stay at Bellevue House was not a particularly happy one, the building itself is clearly part of Canada’s political and historical heritage. It certainly has a stronger claim on our patrimony than the many colonial-era inns throughout New England that boast “George Washington once slept here” have on America’s past. As Canada’s most important historical figure, part of Macdonald’s legacy is embodied in this house. And now it has been returned to the state of its glory days in the 1840s when Kingston was a city of destiny and Macdonald a young politician on the move. That alone is a very good thing.

This old house looks great: The renovations of Bellevue House have transformed the structure into a beautiful representation of upper-class living in pre-Confederation Canada. Clockwise from top left: the visitor centre, Parks Canada staff in period garb, the dining room and the parlour. (Sources of photos: (top and bottom left) Bellevue House National Historic Site/Facebook; (bottom right) Dan Taekema/CBC)

Then the Bad News

Unfortunately, Bellevue House has become yet another battlefield in the federal Liberal’s war against what are sneeringly referred to as “dead white males” and the alleged evils of colonialism. As such, it reflects the lamentable decline in historical competency throughout Parks Canada’s portfolio. Bellevue House further reveals the apparent requirement under the Justin Trudeau government’s sweeping policy of “reconciliation” that Indigenous opinion be inserted into all possible government activities and institutions, regardless of relevancy or accuracy. As such, no opportunity is missed to paint our first prime minister in as unfavourable a light as possible. The goal, it appears, is to cancel Macdonald in his own house. This makes for a rather odd visitor experience.

After making one’s way through the welcome centre, guests are confronted with a variety of messages along the path to Bellevue House. Purportedly garnered from comments by earlier visitors, the messages range from entirely factual, such as, “We wouldn’t have Canada without him,” to the deliberately unsetting “He was a monster.” Without any context for this commentary, visitors – and especially impressionable young schoolchildren – will quickly figure out which responses comprise the “proper” view of the man.

The bad news: In keeping with the Justin Trudeau government’s apparent mission to denigrate and erase important figures from Canada’s colonial history, a sign on the path to Bellevue House claims Macdonald was a “monster”. (Source of photo: Dan Taekema/CBC)

The federal government’s plan to tell “broader and more inclusive stories” about Macdonald is as subtle as a sledgehammer. According to its opening-day press release, Parks Canada “formed working groups with Indigenous partners, culturally diverse members of Kingston and area communities…to share stories and develop new exhibit content.” Native Canadians may have plenty of stories to tell about Macdonald (although no Indigenous person alive today knew Macdonald personally or had any direct experience of him). But are they historically true and relevant to his time at Bellevue?

As visitors make their way through the house, they will notice nearly every room has some sort of aboriginal artifact on display. Some additions are modest and easily overlooked. On the main floor, for example, a dining room filled with Victorian-era dishes, candelabra and other knick-knacks also holds a side table with a collection of indigenous herbs such as sweetgrass, tobacco and sage; there are also books of native art on the shelves. It seems unlikely any of this would have been here when Macdonald rented the house. Then again, nearly all the items on display have no direct connection to Macdonald.

Upstairs the mood turns far more serious. A nursery with cradle (possibly the only authentic Macdonald artifact in the entire house) evokes a somber mood given the death of John Jr. On display in the same room, however, is a cradleboard used to secure an aboriginal infant to her mother’s back. And on the walls are excerpts from Macdonald’s speeches in the House of Commons promoting residential schools as the means to assimilate native children into Canadian society.

Repeat after me, colonialism, genocide and racism: Bellevue House is incongruously filled with numerous Indigenous artifacts and informational displays that attack or undermine Macdonald’s many great accomplishments. (Source of photo: Bellevue House National Historic Site/Facebook)

The obvious goal is to remind visitors of the impact residential schools had on aboriginal children in the very bedroom where Macdonald’s own child died. If visitors still don’t get the message, a video screen blares out interviews with residential school “survivors” on an endless loop. Children as young as four-years old, guests are informed, were forcibly removed from their families and sent to such schools, perpetrating “violent assimilation and abuse”. We are meant to have no sympathy for Macdonald’s own tragic loss.

In other second floor rooms, informative panels variously describe Macdonald the man, the politician and nation builder. These achievements – saving the Canadian colonies from being swallowed up by the United States, bringing them together into Confederation and binding the country with a transcontinental railway, among other feats of statesmanship – will be familiar to anyone who has read one of the many biographies of Macdonald, including Richard Gwyn’s magnificent two-volume work.

But wherever Macdonald’s very real achievements are mentioned, they are always married with some sort of attack on his policies, personal character or the era in which he lived. Besides residential schools, this includes the starvation of Indigenous tribes on the Prairies in the 1890s, the Chinese head tax and on and on. “His vision for Canada did not include everyone,” states one sign, deliberately undercutting his commitment to Canadian democracy. A lexicon helpfully defines key terms visitors will encounter repeatedly throughout the house: colonialism, genocide, racism et cetera.

“Stories” in Abundance, Truth in Short Supply

At Bellevue House’s reopening ceremonies in May, Rodrick Donald Maracle, Chief of the Mohawks of the Bay of Quinte, exclaimed, “Macdonald supported oppression of Indigenous Peoples’ identity; their language, spirituality, the places they came from were stripped from them…The new exhibits at Bellevue House provide a place where truths about Macdonald are able to be fully discussed.”

Parks Canada controls the narrative by choosing which ‘facts’ to present and which to omit. Indeed, it deliberately misses numerous opportunities to provide visitors with crucial ‘non-biased’ facts about Macdonald’s actual accomplishments and beliefs.

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Maracle’s unrestrained antipathy towards Macdonald is clearly the prime example of the “broader and more inclusive stories” Parks Canada wants Bellevue House to tell. Despite its explicit mandate to “protect and present nationally significant examples of Canada’s natural and cultural heritage and foster public understanding,” Parks Canada makes no effort to let visitors know which stories are legitimate and which are pure fiction.

In an interview with a travel writer for The Globe and Mail, Tamara van Dyk, Bellevue’s Visitor Experience Manager, said, “We can’t tell [visitors] how to feel about this history. But we can help them to understand this history…we share facts, non-biased facts.” This is a transparent cop-out; Parks Canada controls the narrative by choosing which “facts” to present and which to omit. Indeed, it deliberately misses numerous opportunities to provide visitors with crucial “non-biased” facts about Macdonald’s actual accomplishments and beliefs. (The Globe article is also noteworthy for its grotesque error in claiming the “confirmation, in 2021, of hundreds of unmarked graves discovered on the grounds of Canada’s residential schools.” There was never any such “confirmation” and, where excavations at suspected grave sites have been subsequently performed, no human remains have been unearthed.)

Controlling the narrative: Rodrick Donald Maracle, Chief of the Mohawks of the Bay of Quinte, used the re-opening ceremonies at Bellevue House to declare that “Macdonald supported oppression of Indigenous Peoples’ identity.”

Among the ample exculpatory evidence about Macdonald missing from Bellevue House’s numerous information plaques and displays is that most Indigenous students during Macdonald’s era went to day schools, not residential schools. Further, between 1891, when Macdonald died, and 1950, half of all residential school students dropped out after grade 1, hardly indicative of a program of “violent assimilation”. Children at residential schools were also sent home to their parents for a two-month summer holiday every year and, if practical, for the Christmas and Easter holidays as well. These facts – verifiable and true – are entirely inconsistent with the suggestion Macdonald deliberately plotted genocide, cultural or otherwise.

Also unmentioned is the Macdonald government’s extremely successful smallpox vaccination campaign for native Canadians. Over a period of more than 20 years, the Government of Canada sought to inoculate every Indigenous resident. Some natives were inoculated twice and, in at least one instance, a group of natives received their shots before local white residents did. If genocide was Macdonald’s goal, why go to such trouble to save so many Indigenous people from disease?

Similarly, despite the surfeit of Indigenous content in nearly every room, no mention is ever made of Macdonald’s many friendships with prominent aboriginal Canadians. This includes Oronhyatekha (aka Burning Cloud), a member of the Six Nations Confederacy who attended the Mohawk Institute Residential School and later graduated from the universities of Toronto and Oxford. Oronhyatekha campaigned for Macdonald in the 1872 election and later named his first child after him.

Despite the surfeit of Indigenous content in Bellevue House, there is no mention of Macdonald’s friendship with several prominent aboriginal Canadians, including Oronhyatekha, aka Burning Cloud (left) and Kahkewaquonaby, aka Peter Jones (right). Both earned university degrees (Oronhyatekha also attended a residential school) and played significant roles in Macdonald’s political campaigns.

Another close contact was Kahkewaquonaby (aka Peter Jones), the head chief of the Mississauga of New Credit, who received his medical degree from Queen’s University in 1866 and acted as a political organizer for Macdonald. He was also consulted on changes to the federal Electoral Franchise Act in 1885, an effort by Macdonald to give all native Canadians the vote, but which was stymied by his political opponents.

As to the Chinese head tax, the historical record shows Macdonald was a consistent foe of the idea; his instincts were always to defend minority rights. It was his political adversaries, largely anti-immigrant nativists in British Columbia, who forced Macdonald’s hand on the matter. When head tax proponents first demanded a $100-per-person tax, he appointed a Commission that countered with a very modest $10. And while Macdonald’s government eventually settled on $50, the tax had no appreciable impact on Chinese immigration. It was Macdonald’s Liberal successor, Sir Wilfrid Laurier, who hiked it to an unaffordable $500, effectively shutting down Chinese immigration for many years.

The Summing Up

Parks Canada’s revitalization of Bellevue House presents an opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the debate about Macdonald’s place in our country’s history at a time when his reputation has come under assault from many sides. Clearly, this effort is not entirely successful. A magnificent renovation and modernization project has been marred by decolonization faddism. But is the good of its physical make-over outweighed by the bad of the historical nonsense?

Putting myself in a judge’s seat and based on my experiences at the property in 1978 and today, I find the changes to Bellevue House are, on balance, a benefit to Canada. The haphazard insertion of Indigenous artifacts in the room displays and the validation of untrue or hopelessly biased “stories” about Macdonald is certainly disconcerting and distracting at times. Yet many of these additions are so irrelevant or harmless – the native herbs in the dining room, a red ribbon dress in Macdonald’s own dressing room – that the visitor can easily disregard them.

Bellevue House ought to be seen as a physical manifestation of Macdonald and his enduring importance to Canada. And that alone is reason for hope.

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Other additions are harder to overlook: a sign proclaiming Canada’s first prime minister to have been a monster, the video and audio barrage inside the house as well as the repeated efforts at undercutting Macdonald’s many political accomplishments. Every room upstairs makes some claim to this effect. And while initially grating, over time it all becomes rather silly. What calumny will they come up with next? The cumulative effect is so incongruous and contextually out-of-place that eventually one becomes numb to it – the way our brains tune out an unpleasant smell. And having done that, all that’s left is the house itself: a magnificent example of colonial-era British Canada.

Parks Canada’s attempted cancellation of Macdonald in his own residence was always an absurd mission. Unlike the erasure of his name from various schools or other buildings and landmarks across the country, or the toppling of his statues, Bellevue House has not been removed as a physical presence. It still stands. Remember, the only reason Ottawa owns the house in the first place and then spent so long fixing it up is, as its national historic site designation states, because “it is associated with Sir John A. Macdonald, a Father of Confederation and Canada’s first Prime Minister.” Visitors to the site are not drawn there by a desire to learn more about his personal flaws or to view a random collection of Indigenous bits and pieces. Rather the magnetic force is and always has been Macdonald’s own unparalleled significance as a national figure. And with most of these actual historical achievements given at least grudging acknowledgement throughout the house, any discerning visitor should be able to separate the numerous grains of truth from the vast bushels of chaff.

For all time: Macdonald’s significance as Canada’s pre-eminent statesman is what draws visitors to Bellevue House. And this record of achievement is sturdy enough to survive any attempt to cancel him, even by the current federal government. Shown, Macdonald, standing at centre, in Robert Harris’ famous painting Fathers of Confederation, circa 1884.

Bellevue House ought to be seen as a physical manifestation of Macdonald and his enduring importance to Canada. And that alone is reason for hope. Given the quality and scale of the renovations, the site will easily outlast our current Liberal government and, one can assume, society’s recent ahistorical convulsions as well. Video screens, red dresses and wall plaques are easily removed. But the house itself is going no where. After many perilous and grim years, Bellevue House is back better than ever. The same will eventually hold true for Macdonald himself. Cultural fads and social hysterics come and go, but his legacy – the legacy of Canada as an improbable country that became one of the world’s most successful and stable democracies – is here to stay. Like his house, it just needs a little sprucing up.

Greg Piasetzki is an intellectual property lawyer with an interest in Canadian history. He lives in Toronto and is a citizen of the Métis Nation of Ontario.

Source of main image: Bellevue House National Historic Site/Facebook.

Related Topics:#C2CJournal Canada'sFirstPrimeMinister FatherOfConfederation feature GregPiasetzki ParksCanadaBelevueHouse SirJohnAMacdonald

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Artificial Intelligence

The Emptiness Inside: Why Large Language Models Can’t Think – and Never Will

Published on December 2, 2025

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This is a special preview article from the:

By Gleb Lisikh

Early attempts at artificial intelligence (AI) were ridiculed for giving answers that were confident, wrong and often surreal – the intellectual equivalent of asking a drunken parrot to explain Kant. But modern AIs based on large language models (LLMs) are so polished, articulate and eerily competent at generating answers that many people assume they can know and, even
better, can independently reason their way to knowing.

This confidence is misplaced. LLMs like ChatGPT or Grok don’t think. They are supercharged autocomplete engines. You type a prompt; they predict the next word, then the next, based only on patterns in the trillions of words they were trained on. No rules, no logic – just statistical guessing dressed up in conversation. As a result, LLMs have no idea whether a sentence is true or false or even sane; they only “know” whether it sounds like sentences they’ve seen before. That’s why they often confidently make things up: court cases, historical events, or physics explanations that are pure fiction. The AI world calls such outputs
“hallucinations”.

But because the LLM’s speech is fluent, users instinctively project self-understanding onto the model, triggered by the same human “trust circuits” we use for spotting intelligence. But it is fallacious reasoning, a bit like hearing someone speak perfect French and assuming they must also be an excellent judge of wine, fashion and philosophy. We confuse style for substance and
we anthropomorphize the speaker. That in turn tempts us into two mythical narratives: Myth 1: “If we just scale up the models and give them more ‘juice’ then true reasoning will eventually emerge.”

Bigger LLMs do get smoother and more impressive. But their core trick – word prediction – never changes. It’s still mimicry, not understanding. One assumes intelligence will magically emerge from quantity, as though making tires bigger and spinning them faster will eventually make a car fly. But the obstacle is architectural, not scalar: you can make the mimicry more
convincing (make a car jump off a ramp), but you don’t convert a pattern predictor into a truth-seeker by scaling it up. You merely get better camouflage and, studies have shown, even less fidelity to fact.

Myth 2: “Who cares how AI does it? If it yields truth, that’s all that matters. The ultimate arbiter of truth is reality – so cope!”

This one is especially dangerous as it stomps on epistemology wearing concrete boots. It effectively claims that the seeming reliability of LLM’s mundane knowledge should be extended to trusting the opaque methods through which it is obtained. But truth has rules. For example, a conclusion only becomes epistemically trustworthy when reached through either: 1) deductive reasoning (conclusions that must be true if the premises are true); or 2) empirical verification (observations of the real world that confirm or disconfirm claims).

LLMs do neither of these. They cannot deduce because their architecture doesn’t implement logical inference. They don’t manipulate premises and reach conclusions, and they are clueless about causality. They also cannot empirically verify anything because they have no access to reality: they can’t check weather or observe social interactions.

Attempting to overcome these structural obstacles, AI developers bolt external tools like calculators, databases and retrieval systems onto an LLM system. Such ostensible truth-seeking mechanisms improve outputs but do not fix the underlying architecture.

The “flying car” salesmen, peddling various accomplishments like IQ test scores, claim that today’s LLMs show superhuman intelligence. In reality, LLM IQ tests violate every rule for conducting intelligence tests, making them a human-prompt engineering skills competition rather than a valid assessment of machine smartness.

Efforts to make LLMs “truth-seeking” by brainwashing them to align with their trainer’s preferences through mechanisms like RLHF miss the point. Those attempts to fix bias only make waves in a structure that cannot support genuine reasoning. This regularly reveals itself through flops like xAI Grok’s MechaHitler bravado or Google Gemini’s representing America’s Founding Fathers as a lineup of “racialized” gentlemen.

Other approaches exist, though, that strive to create an AI architecture enabling authentic thinking:

 Symbolic AI: uses explicit logical rules; strong on defined problems, weak on ambiguity;
 Causal AI: learns cause-and-effect relationships and can answer “what if” questions;
 Neuro-symbolic AI: combines neural prediction with logical reasoning; and
 Agentic AI: acts with the goal in mind, receives feedback and improves through trial-and-error.

Unfortunately, the current progress in AI relies almost entirely on scaling LLMs. And the alternative approaches receive far less funding and attention – the good old “follow the money” principle. Meanwhile, the loudest “AI” in the room is just a very expensive parrot.

LLMs, nevertheless, are astonishing achievements of engineering and wonderful tools useful for many tasks. I will have far more on their uses in my next column. The crucial thing for users to remember, though, is that all LLMs are and will always remain linguistic pattern engines, not epistemic agents.

The hype that LLMs are on the brink of “true intelligence” mistakes fluency for thought. Real thinking requires understanding the physical world, persistent memory, reasoning and planning that LLMs handle only primitively or not all – a design fact that is non-controversial among AI insiders. Treat LLMs as useful thought-provoking tools, never as trustworthy sources. And stop waiting for the parrot to start doing philosophy. It never will.

The original, full-length version of this article was recently published as Part I of a two-part series in C2C Journal. Part II can be read here.

Gleb Lisikh is a researcher and IT management professional, and a father of three children, who lives in Vaughan, Ontario and grew up in various parts of the Soviet Union.

C2C Journal

Learning the Truth about “Children’s Graves” and Residential Schools is More Important than Ever

Published on December 1, 2025

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By Tom Flanagan

When the book Grave Error was published by True North in late 2023, it became an instant best-seller. People wanted to read the book because it contained well-documented information not readily available elsewhere concerning the history of Canada’s Indian Residential Schools (IRS) and the facts surrounding recent claims about “unmarked graves.”

Dead Wrong: How Canada Got the Residential School Story So Wrong is the just-published sequel to Grave Error. Edited by Chris Champion and me, with chapters written by knowledgeable academics, journalists, researchers and even several contributors who once worked directly in residential schools or dedicated Indian hospitals, Dead Wrong was published because the struggle for accurate information on this contentious subject continues. Let me share with you a little of what’s in Dead Wrong.

Outrageously, the New York Times, the world’s most influential newspaper among liberals and “progressives”, has never retracted its outrageously false headline that “mass graves” were uncovered at Kamloops in 2021. Journalist Jonathan Kay exposes that scandal.

With similarly warped judgment, the legacy media were enthused about last year’s so-called documentary Sugarcane, a feature-length film sponsored by National Geographic and nominated for an Academy Award. The only reporter to spot Sugarcane’s dozens of egregious factual errors was independent journalist Michelle Stirling; her expose is included in Dead Wrong.

In spring 2024, the small Interior B.C. city of Quesnel made national news when the mayor’s wife bought ten copies of Grave Error for distribution to friends. After noisy protests by people who had never read the book, Quesnel city council voted to censure Mayor Ron Paull and tried to force him from office. It’s all described in Dead Wrong.

Also not to be forgotten is how the Law Society of B.C. has forced upon its members training materials that assert against all evidence that children’s remains have been discovered at Kamloops. As told by James Pew, B.C. MLA Dallas Brodie was expelled not from the NDP but from the Conservative caucus for daring to point out this obvious and incontrovertible
falsehood. But the facts are that ground-penetrating radar (used at the former Kamloops IRS) can detect only “anomalies” or “disturbances”, not identify what those might be; that no excavations have been carried out; and that no human remains whatsoever, let alone “215 children’s bodies”, have been found there. Brodie is completely correct.

Then there is the story of Jim McMurtry, suspended by the Abbotsford District School Board shortly after the May 2021 Kamloops announcement. McMurtry’s offence was to tell students the truth that, while some Indigenous students did die in residential schools, the main cause was tuberculosis. His own book The Scarlet Lesson is excerpted in Dead Wrong.

Historian Ian Gentles and former IRS teacher Pim Wiebel offer a richly detailed analysis of health and medical conditions in the schools. They show that these were much better than what prevailed in the Indian reserves from which most students came.

Another important contribution to understanding the medical issues is by Dr. Eric Schloss, narrating the history of the Charles Camsell Indian Hospital in Edmonton. IRS facilities usually included small clinics, but students with serious problems were often transferred to Indian Hospitals for more intensive care. Schloss, who worked in the Camsell, describes how it delivered state-of-the-art medicine, probably better than the care available to most non-native children anywhere in Canada at the time.

Rodney Clifton’s contribution, “They would call me a ‘Denier,’” describes his personal experiences working in two IRS in the 1960s. Clifton does not tell stories of hunger, brutal punishment and suppression of Indigenous culture, but of games, laughter and trying to learn native languages from his Indian and Inuit charges.

And far from the IRS system being a deliberate, sustained program of cultural genocide, as Toronto lawyer and historian Greg Piasetzki explains, the historical fact is that “Canada Wanted to Close All Residential Schools in the 1940s. Here’s why it couldn’t.” That’s because for many Aboriginal parents, particularly single parents and/or those with large numbers of children,
residential schools were the best deal available. In addition to schooling their kids, they offered paid employment to large numbers of Indigenous Canadians as cooks, janitors, farmers and health care workers, and later as teachers and even principals.

Another gravely important issue is the recent phenomenon of charging critics with “residential school denialism.” This is a false accusation hurled by true believers in what has become known as the “Kamloops narrative”, aimed at shutting down criticism or questions. A key event in this process was when NDP MP Leah Gazan in 2022 persuaded the House of Commons to approve a
resolution “That, in the opinion of the House this government must recognize what happened in Canada’s Indian residential schools as genocide.”

In 2024, Gazan took the next step by introducing a private member’s bill to criminalize dissent about the IRS system. Remember, the slur of “denialist” is a term drawn from earlier debates about the Holocaust. Gazan’s bill failed to pass, but she reintroduced it in 2025. Had such provisions been in force back in 2021, it might well have become a crime to point out that the
Kamloops GPR survey had identified soil anomalies, not buried bodies. Frances Widdowson examines this sordid political campaign of denunciation.

As the proponents of the Kamloops narrative fail to provide convincing hard evidence for it, they hope to mobilize the authority of the state to stamp out dissent. One of the main goals behind publication of Dead Wrong is to head off this drive toward authoritarianism.

Happily, Dead Wrong is already an Amazon best-seller based on pre-publication orders. The struggle for truth continues.

The original, full-length version of this article was recently published by C2C Journal.

Tom Flanagan is the author of many books on Indigenous history and policy, including (with C.P. Champion) the best-selling Grave Error: How the Media Misled Us and the Truth about Residential Schools.