Why Canada Still Owes Its Indigenous Population

Some debts can be paid in money. Then some debts run deeper through history, through culture, through time. In Canada, one of the most urgent and unresolved debts is the one owed to Indigenous peoples. This is not a metaphor. It is a living truth, grounded in broken treaties, colonial violence, systemic neglect, and centuries of dishonored promises.

Understanding why Canada still owes its Indigenous population isn't just about knowing historical facts. It's about recognizing ongoing structures that continue to disadvantage First Nations, Métis, and Inuit communities. It's about asking: what was taken, what has been withheld, and what is still owed today.

In this blog, we explore that question not through statistics alone, but through lived experience, literature, history, and cultural reflection. We also highlight how authors like Robert Sanderson contribute to this conversation through fiction that confronts the real consequences of systemic injustice.

The Promises That Were Never Kept

From the earliest treaties to modern land claims, Canada has made promises to Indigenous peoples that time and again, were broken or manipulated. These weren't symbolic gestures; they were legal agreements that formed the basis for peaceful co-existence. In return for land access and resource sharing, the Crown agreed to provide essential support: housing, healthcare, education, and protection of traditional ways of life.

But what happened? Promised services were delayed, underfunded, or denied outright. The land was appropriated. Children were taken from their families. Resources were extracted without consent. And when Indigenous leaders protested, they were labelled as radicals or dismissed as obstacles to progress.

This isn't ancient history. These betrayals have ripple effects that are felt right now in overcrowded housing, unsafe drinking water, disproportionate incarceration rates, and widespread mental health crises. The debt is real, and it continues to grow.

Intergenerational Harm and Cultural Erasure

One of the deepest impacts of Canada’s colonial legacy is cultural erasure. The residential school system was designed not just to educate Indigenous children, but to sever them from their languages, traditions, and families. The goal, explicitly stated by government officials at the time, was to “kill the Indian in the child.”

Survivors of these schools carry not only personal trauma but generational scars. These wounds pass from parent to child, shaping family dynamics, identity, and mental health. Entire communities have had to work to rebuild what was nearly lost and they’ve done so without the full support of the institutions responsible for that loss.

When people ask why Canada still owes its Indigenous population, the answer is partly found here: in the pain that wasn’t acknowledged, in the healing that wasn’t funded, and in the cultures that were forced into silence.

Legal Accountability Still Lags Behind

In recent years, there have been efforts to confront this history. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was a major step, documenting thousands of survivor testimonies and issuing 94 Calls to Action. But most of those calls remain unmet. Government apologies have been made, but without sufficient structural change, they ring hollow.

Land disputes remain unresolved. Compensation for past harm is often fought in court for years. And many communities still don't have access to clean water or proper healthcare. If you're wondering why Canada still owes its Indigenous population, just listen to the daily realities in northern communities. The debt isn't abstract it’s physical, economic, and emotional.

Fiction as a Reflection of Reality

This is where storytelling becomes essential. While reports and inquiries document the facts, fiction explores the impact. Authors like Robert Sanderson use narrative to expose how these failures feel on the ground and how they affect real people in everyday life.

In Money Boss, Sanderson tells the story of a young civil servant sent to work with remote Indigenous communities in 1976. What he finds is a government agency paralyzed by bureaucracy, indifference, and quiet corruption. The villages he visits are isolated and under-resourced. His supervisors are more concerned with political optics than human lives.

While the story is fictional, the context is not. The conditions depicted reflect real patterns seen across Canadian history and even now. Sanderson’s experience working in Arctic and Indigenous economic development gives the story a painful authenticity. It’s not about blaming individuals; it’s about revealing how entire systems can fail, again and again.

The Emotional Weight of Injustice

One of the reasons Canada’s debt remains unpaid is because of emotional distance. For many Canadians, Indigenous issues feel removed from something that happened in the past or somewhere far away. But books like Money Boss, memoirs from residential school survivors, or oral histories passed through generations, bring those experiences into the present.

They show the human side of injustice. The mother waiting for medical help that never comes. The child who grows up without a name in their language. The community leader who writes letters for years, begging for support, and gets silence in return. These aren't political talking points. They're lives.

And until we, as a country, are willing to face that emotional weight to carry it, sit with it, and respond to it the debt will remain unpaid.

What Reconciliation Means

Reconciliation is often framed as a destination. But it’s not a moment—it’s a process. And that process starts with truth. Before we can talk about healing, we have to confront what needs to be healed. Before we talk about moving forward, we have to ask: who’s still left behind?

When you understand why Canada still owes its Indigenous population, you understand that reconciliation requires more than words. It demands land restitution, legal reform, education that includes Indigenous history, economic investment, and space for Indigenous governance and self-determination. Anything less is performative.

Books and stories help us imagine what real reconciliation could look like. They challenge readers to step into someone else’s world and stay there long enough to feel responsibility, not just sympathy.

Robert Sanderson’s Quiet Call to Action

Robert Sanderson doesn’t write manifestos. He tells stories. But inside his fiction is a quiet call to action. Money Boss doesn’t just show how systems fail it shows what it takes to push back. The protagonist’s journey is one of awareness, conflict, and ultimately courage.

And it reflects something every reader can take to heart: we all have a role in confronting the past. Whether it’s listening more deeply, voting more wisely, supporting Indigenous creators, or just refusing to forget what’s been revealed.

Sanderson’s work reminds us that stories can be more than reflections they can be maps. Maps to accountability. Maps to justice.

Conclusion

When we say why Canada still owes its Indigenous population, we’re naming an uncomfortable truth. But discomfort is the beginning of change. Through broken treaties, cultural erasure, systemic neglect, and slow-moving justice, the debt has grown. But so has the strength of Indigenous communities and the power of their stories.

If you’re ready to take that first step, read Money Boss. Let it show you what government failure looks like from the inside. Let it open your eyes to how history repeats itself unless we choose to break the cycle.