Thank you, Mr. Chair.
Thank you all for having me. As the chair said, my name is Michael Petrou. I am a historian of the veteran's experience at the Canadian War Museum.
I spent the last three years at the museum leading an oral history project called “In Their Own Voices”, which explores the postwar and post-service lives of Canadian veterans and their loved ones. It's not a history of war; in other words, it's a history of the ripples of war and of military service. We wanted to better understand how veterans and their loved ones are shaped by their service.
To this end, I have interviewed more than 200 veterans and their relatives, from a 104-year-old veteran from the Second World War to much younger returnees from Afghanistan and Iraq and veterans of peacetime service. These interviews, totalling hundreds of hours, were conducted by phone and Zoom, but mostly face to face, in kitchens and living rooms across the country. They reveal that, for many veterans, the war continues long after the rest of us stop paying attention. They reveal that the impacts of service continue in ways that are profound, intimate and far-ranging, cascading across decades and sometimes generations.
I can share a bit of what I've learned in the course of this research with you today. However, I would encourage you all to consult the “In Their Own Voices” online exhibition. It contains 50 excerpts from those interviews but also access to all 200 interview transcripts through the museum's military history research centre. This is an incredibly rich resource. Again, there are hundreds of hours of interviews. Our hope is that it will be of use to members of the public, researchers, scholars, students and family members. It is also designed precisely for the sort of work that you're all undertaking. I hope you'll make use of it, and I hope that it will help.
Since this committee is focused on the experiences of Black and indigenous veterans, I should note that approximately 26 of the “In Their Own Voices” interviewees are indigenous and 11 are Black. We also have testimonies from Asian, South Asian, Arab, Muslim, Jewish and LGBTQ+ veterans and loved ones.
I can speak to some of the common themes that have emerged with Black and indigenous veterans, but I should begin by noting that many if not most of the most deeply held and deeply felt experiences of Black and indigenous veterans are common to veterans of all backgrounds, of all eras and of all wars and periods of service.
Everybody is shaped by their service. The transition from being a service member to being a civilian is a profound one, often meaningful, sometimes unsettling. I recall one veteran of Bosnia and Afghanistan who likened the process of becoming a civilian again to crossing a bridge from one bank of a river to the next. The near bank is familiar. It feels safe. You know people there and they understand you, but you need to get across to the other bank, which is not familiar. You haven't been there since you were a teenager, maybe. It's forbidding, but you know you need to push yourself across that bridge. Eventually you reach the far bank, and with luck and support you become comfortable there.
I think we can divide some of the challenges surrounding the transition to veteranhood into two main clusters. There's the practical challenge of finding a job, maybe health care, a place to live. Then there is the emotional transition. Your identity changes. You are now separated from people that you could rely on completely, that you trusted with your life. You might not have liked them, but you love them. They understood you. Now you're surrounded by people who don't really understand you or what you've done. This can be disquieting. This can be lonely.
The challenges surrounding this transition are common across...again, regardless of background, regardless of whether the veteran is Black or indigenous, regardless of the era they served in.
I think often of a veteran of Afghanistan who described coming home from the war. There was a family gathering, a birthday or something like that. He was at the table. Someone mentioned the name of one of his comrades who had died, and it became too much for him. He started to cry, and he had to leave the table. His grandfather followed him into the hallway, simply put his arm around his shoulder and said, “It's okay. I understand.”
Now his grandfather was usually a boisterous type, so this was out of character, but his grandfather was a veteran of the Second World War, so their wartime experiences were separated by decades, by a vast distance, but they shared that most intimate, most unique, most profound experience of losing people close to them in combat. As a result, they understood each other despite these differences in a way that perhaps other people couldn't.
There are certain themes that are unique to Black, indigenous and other racialized service members as well. One is using veteranhood as a tool for social mobility and for advancing social and political equity. I think of Chinese and Japanese Canadian veterans of the Second World War who used their veteranhood as a tool for advancing postwar equity.
I should say that this is not equally effective. Many indigenous veterans of the Second World War did not have access to the same sort of veterans charter settlements after the war. Nevertheless, many of the postwar political leaders in first nations were veterans, and that continues to be the case today.
Black interviewees spoke often of veteranhood as a way of proving their families' bona fides, that they belong in this country either because of their own service or because of their family's service.
Another common theme concerns the tensions or the wrestling between levels of discrimination inside the service and outside. One Black veteran described the process of leaving the military after many years, where he felt more judged on his merits as opposed to the colour of his skin, and returning to Canadian society where racism was more profound. He described that as a culture shock.
I should say that this equity is, of course, not uniform. It's not attested to by all veterans. Some speak of discrimination even amongst fellow veterans when they return to civilian life. One indigenous veteran recalled the feeling that he was good enough to die beside his non-indigenous service members but not good enough to have a drink with them in the Legion.
I know I'm running out of time, but permit me to speak briefly to two themes that I think are perhaps unique to indigenous veterans. They're both related to the role of indigenous veterans in their communities. At the risk of overgeneralizing, I think the role of a veteran in indigenous communities is often unique and perhaps more important than in non-indigenous communities. We see this reflected, for example, in the grand entries in prairie powwows. This comes with greater prestige but also responsibility and attendant stress.
The last theme I'd like to mention concerns questions about being an indigenous veteran of the Canadian Armed Forces when Canada hasn't always treated indigenous people well or fairly. As one indigenous veteran put it, “We fought under a flag that didn't always protect us.”
At least two indigenous veterans spoke of being called a traitor for serving in the Canadian military. One responded by saying that he felt sorry for the person who made this accusation, because that person would never know the love and the joy that he felt from service.
Everybody has different reasons. Certain indigenous veterans have spoken of serving because of their love for the land. I think often of an indigenous veteran from down east, a Mi'kmaq, whose explanation was rooted in history. He said that his people had signed treaties with the British Crown and now the Canadian Crown. By serving, he was simply upholding his end of the bargain. I think there's an implication there about upholding the other end of the bargain as well.
I'll end there.
Again, I conducted hundreds of hours of interviews, and there's a lot more to talk about.
I'm happy to answer any questions you have. Thank you.
