1994 was a good year. It was a good year because the Convention on the Rights of the Child was beginning to be noticed. It's a very wise document.
I was at an international conference for young people in Victoria in 1994. We had gathered groups from all over the world to talk about the convention. There was a group of Quechua from Tena in Ecuador, Maoris from New Zealand, street kids from Vancouver, and a youth leader from Belfast. It all happened in a huge auditorium at the University of Victoria. The last afternoon of the conference came, and the grand finale was to be piped onto a gigantic screen. It was a show from Charlottetown, P.E.l., performed by a professional cast who were celebrating the marvel of Canada and what it could mean to all the young people who were there. There was singing and dancing, and the message was that Canada was some sort of heaven that had been found by all these happy refugees who had escaped the horrors of their home country to live a new life in Canada.
But then we noticed that the message was not getting across. The crowd in the auditorium was shrinking. They were gathering in pockets of space. And at first the conversations sounded confused. Then the confusion turned to anger. With amazing courage, the organizers closed down the pipeline to Charlottetown and people slowly moved to the large platform. It didn't happen by arrangement; it just happened. People went up to the mike, said a few words, and stepped away. People told stories. People cried. I felt so lucky; we all did, and we all knew how lucky that was.
The anger had started because Charlottetown was trying to sell a phony promise, and we all knew that it didn't apply to everybody, but our anger had faded to amazement. We had rights because we had taken ownership of the promise. That is what actually happened, and if you want confirmation, give Senator Landon Pearson a call and ask her. She led the conference in the Lord's Prayer and a peace came down on us all, a happy peace.
That's what should come out of these hearings—a peace that could wrap our angry and hurting offenders and bring healing to them, and a peace that will ease the pain of the victims and help them to reach out and touch hands for the sake of the children who will have the opportunity to rebuild justice in a world that we will have to leave to them.