As far as some of the consequences you were speaking about, I'm just thinking back.... Before I got into what I do now, in policy analysis, I worked in aboriginal media. I worked at a newspaper called The Drum /First Perspective, which prided itself on accountability, transparency, and trying to be more of a muckraking type of independent newspaper for first nations.
One of the things I always remember is receiving information, usually things through the fax, about remuneration, salaries, travel expenses, special needs program vouchers—all these things. I'd get them through the fax or sent in a brown manila envelope to my office. Then I'd finally get a hold of someone, and no one would be able to go on the record. Some of the main things they would say are, “I don't want to get cut off social assistance” or “I'm up for housing and I don't want to jeopardize that” or “My child is going into post-secondary education and I'm worried about getting an allotment of band funds for that”. As a journalist, I was not really able to do anything with that.
That's the kind of situation we have with first nations, and Phyllis alluded to that. You're being punted between Aboriginal Affairs or the RCMP, and then, adding insult to injury, often being told to go back to chief and council. When you're alleging mismanagement against them, you have to go speak to them. It's the worst kind of conflict of interest you have to face.
The only other way is to go through the media, or to send something to the Canadian Taxpayers Federation, or to us, the Frontier Centre. That's the only way the first nations have.
If service delivery is not separated, not insulated from elected politics, and if they don't have a board of directors that isn't accountable to chief and council, then the concentration of power causes the worst kinds of consequences.