Abstract
Embracing a shared social identity typically serves to protect group members in the face of threats. However, under some conditions, intragroup dynamics are diverted so that instead, they contribute to disturbances in collective well-being. The present analysis applies a social identity framework to understand how intragroup processes elicited in Indian Residential Schools (IRS) altered the capacity of Indigenous peoples to overcome damage to their identity and collective functioning. With the alleged goal of assimilating the Indigenous population, residential schools in Canada entailed the forced removal of Indigenous children from their communities. A Truth and Reconciliation Commission established in 2008 confirmed the extensive abuse perpetrated by IRS staff, but also raised awareness of the pervasiveness of student-to-student abuse. Supported by qualitative analyses of the reports of social service providers working with IRS survivors (N = 43), it is argued that a key part of the dynamics in the IRSs was the subversion of intragroup processes among Indigenous children in attendance. Understanding intragroup dynamics provides a basis for recognizing the persistent effects of IRSs, and for identifying strategies to heal and reclaim a positive collective identity.
Since European colonization of the Americas, Indigenous populations have been the target of repeated and intense actions to achieve their subordination, and it is generally recognized that the effects of the Indian Residential Schools (IRSs) were especially profound. The IRS system operated in Canada from the mid-1800s until the last school closed in the 1990s, as part of an explicit government policy of assimilation. Although the existence and long-term effects of this policy were largely ignored within the Canadian mainstream, the widespread neglect and abuse the children were subjected to in the IRSs has since been acknowledged. As part of a national strategy aimed at understanding the consequences of the IRSs for Indigenous communities, and for Canadians more generally, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC) was created. Through examination of existing documents, and the invitation to former students to share their experiences, it became apparent that a significant number of students were abused not only by IRS staff, but also by their fellow students (TRC, 2012).
A useful framework for understanding what happened in the IRSs may be provided by a social identity approach (comprising social identity theory, Tajfel & Turner, 1979; and self-categorization theory, Turner, Hogg, Oakes, Reicher, & Wetherell, 1987). This theoretical perspective addresses the intergroup processes that define the relationship between an ingroup and outgroup, as well as intragroup processes concerning how values and norms evolve, how influence is exerted within the group, and how leaders emerge (Haslam, 2001; Reicher, Spears, & Haslam, 2010; Turner et al., 1987). In the present paper, we apply a social identity perspective to understand the transformation of the identity of Indigenous peoples as a result of the IRSs. Although we contextualize this analysis in Canada, similar systems were established in numerous countries where attempts were made to subjugate the Indigenous populations (e.g., Australia, United States).
Through this analysis, we also evaluate the utility of a social identity framework for understanding intragroup processes, and in particular, how they can be shaped by a powerful outgroup to render normal protective functions ineffective. We do so in light of the qualitative responses of social service providers who conveyed accounts of the experiences of survivors of the IRSs. Typically, intragroup processes are evoked to stave off threats to a collective identity (Adams, Fryberg, Garcia, & Delgado-Torres, 2006; Branscombe, Schmitt, & Harvey, 1999). However, we contend that the identity “acquired” by the students in the IRSs was internalized and maintained over time because the IRS experience subverted the normal intragroup processes that might otherwise have offered a protective counter-identity.
Intergroup strategy for the sustained subordination of Indigenous peoples
As efforts to protect a social identity are typically evoked in response to a threat (Reicher, Haslam, & Rath, 2008), it is important to contextualize the IRSs in the intergroup context. From a social identity perspective, establishing a group identity that compares positively to other groups is a fundamental motivation underlying social behaviour (Tajfel & Turner, 1979). This motivation encourages beliefs and actions that ensure that one's own group remains dominant, and that the subordinate group's access to rights and resources is substantially barred, and its members act in a manner that ensures the security and well-being of the dominant group (Dovidio, 2013).
Interactions between Indigenous peoples and European explorers became more frequent during the 17th century as colonization accelerated (Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples [RCAP], 1996). As predicted by social identity theory, although Indigenous values of hospitality and diplomacy guided interactions with Europeans, instead of eliciting mutual respect, they were interpreted as subservient behaviours, confirming the colonizer's self-stereotype of superiority (Dickason & McNab, 2009). The survival of Europeans was often dependent on the guidance of Indigenous peoples, but this did not deter perceptions of them as “savages” (Dickason & McNab, 2009). Indeed, many early interactions included missionary activities aimed at “saving” the souls of the Indigenous peoples (RCAP, 1996).
Over time, the British in Canada increasingly viewed their Indigenous allies as an undesirable burden (Dickason & McNab, 2009; Milloy, 2008). The Indian Act of 1876 was described by the inaugural Prime Minister of Canada, John A. Macdonald, as aimed “to do away with the tribal system and assimilate the Indian people in all respects with the other inhabitants of the Dominion as speedily as they are fit to change” (Milloy, 1999, p. 6). It was believed that assimilation would be best achieved through the education of children, who were most suitable for “complete metamorphosis” (Miller, 1996; Milloy, 1999, 2008). To this end, in a partnership between government and church, 130 residential schools were established and operated through much of Canada. By the 1930s, approximately 75% of First Nations children attended these schools, as did many Métis and Inuit children (Fournier & Crey, 1997). When Indigenous communities resisted the forced removal of children, amendments were made to the Indian Act to permit the use of severe punishments to families that tried to keep their children at home (Milloy, 1999; TRC, 2012). Not only did the children endure the trauma of being torn from their communities, but they were often subjected to neglect and emotional, physical, and sexual abuse in the IRSs (RCAP, 1996). The majority of IRSs were closed in the 1980s, although the last school continued to operate until 1996.
The relationship between European colonizers and Indigenous peoples was a classic example of intergroup conflict. Europeans perceived themselves to be superior, and had the tools to assert their status and entitlements, while diminishing the rights and resources of Indigenous peoples (RCAP, 1996). To ensure that the identity of the groups remained distinct, characteristics that clearly differentiated them were reconstrued, so that even positive aspects of the Indigenous ways of being were negatively interpreted (e.g., cooperation as subservience; language and connection to nature as savagery). Efforts toward religious conversion and the civilization of Indigenous peoples undermined traditional beliefs and practices that were fundamental to their previously effective economic, familial, and communal institutions (RCAP, 1996).
The IRSs proved to be an effective component of this assimilationist strategy. Although there was some variation in the extent of the cruelty or benevolence imposed on the children across schools and by the staff, the IRSs entailed the segregation and isolation of Indigenous children, and the devaluation of their cultural identity. Entrance into the dominant culture remained closed, and so young people graduating from the IRSs were often left with no choice but to return to their communities. But the children returned to communities were no longer recognizable; many who had fared well had done so by emulating their dominators and despising the characteristics that defined them first and foremost as “Indian.” Others showed the signs of trauma, low self-esteem, burden of shame and self-loathing for what was done to them (TRC, 2012). It is in this context that we need to understand how Indigenous children in IRSs, and then as adults, interacted with one another and how they contributed to the shaping of Indigenous identities today.
Subordination of an identity: Intragroup responses to the IRS experience
Typically when group members encounter an identity threat, identification with their group is strengthened, hostility toward the perpetrator increases, and collective actions are undertaken to counter the transgressions of the perpetrator (Branscombe et al., 1999; Haslam & Reicher, 2012). From a social identity perspective, intragroup processes enable groups to maintain a self-stereotype that highlights the distinctive and positive features of the group (Turner et al., 1987). Group members who are perceived to best typify the group's positive characteristics are positioned to play a leadership role and wield influence within the group (Haslam, Reicher, & Platow, 2011), whereas members who deviate from group norms or threaten the group's status are marginalized (Castano, Paladino, Coull, & Yzerbyt, 2002; Marques, Abrams, Paez, & Hogg, 2001). The latter can anticipate rejection in the future, and their own loyalty and motivation to act on behalf of the group diminishes, particularly if they see the actions of the outgroup as legitimate (Jetten, Schmitt, Branscombe, Garza, & Mewse, 2011).
In effect, a cohesive group identity is maintained through social influences that encourage members to embrace group norms, and to behave in a manner that is consistent with the group's perceived interests (Castano et al., 2002; Lewis & Sherman, 2010). Through the strengthening of a shared identity, group members come to hold collective emotions (e.g., pride), and to share collective interests (i.e., social status). These emotions and interests form the basis of collective actions that typically protect or enhance the group identity.
The initial response of the Indigenous peoples to the aggression of the colonizers reflected this process of identity strengthening and collective effort to maintain ingroup rights. But the IRS system was a powerful disrupter of the normal protective outcomes. The majority of IRS students were removed from their families and communities at 5–10 years of age (Bombay, Matheson, Yurkiewich, Thake, & Anisman, 2012). As a result, early socialization experiences were minimized, and students' emerging cultural identity was supplanted with an alternative that reflected the interests and values of the dominant group. This alternative was applied forcibly and relentlessly in the schools through the denigration of Indigenous identity, punishment for maintaining familial or cultural ties, and through staff behaviours that modelled childcare relationships that were punitive, abusive, and emotionally distant. Survivors of IRSs have described the brutal and arbitrary punishments administered by staff, including public beatings and humiliation, food deprivation, and solitary confinement, often for minor transgressions like talking to children of the opposite sex (including siblings), or speaking their Indigenous language (Knockwood, 1992; Milloy, 1999; TRC, 2015). The severity of these reprimands violated the norms of the era, and many of the punishments were explicitly or implicitly sexual in nature (Grant, 1996; RCAP, 1996).
In addition to the shame associated with abusive experiences and humiliating punishments, the constant denigration of their heritage and traditional cultural practices elicited shame concerning their Indigenous identity (Miller, 1996; RCAP, 1996; TRC, 2015). Significantly, the feelings of shame that accompany a denigrated collective identity elicit anxiety and reduce the motivation of those who are violated to redress and rectify the transgression (Ginges & Atran, 2008; Matheson & Anisman, 2008). Induced shame can also give rise to resentment and anger (Tangney, Wagner, Hill-Barlow, Marschall, & Gramzow, 1996), with longer-term behavioural ramifications (Bennett, Sullivan, & Lewis, 2005; Stuewig & McCloskey, 2005). For example, among Indigenous youth, the elevated feelings of anger elicited by discriminatory experiences are associated with aggressive behaviour (Hartshorn, Whitbeck, & Hoyt, 2012). Even in the absence of the rampant abuse experienced in the IRSs, being denied their language and identity, and learning that being Indian was shameful, might have promoted aggressive acting-out behaviours among the children. Unfortunately, these children had little power to express their anger toward their dominators, and instead aggressed against their peers. Such intragroup aggression would fundamentally alter the social identity dynamics that might otherwise have protected the esteem and identity of Indigenous children.
The pivotal role of student-to-student aggression in Indian Residential Schools
Student-to-student abuse at IRSs has been acknowledged (TRC, 2012), but has not been a focus in discussions relating to the history and consequences of the IRS system. It has been estimated that as many as 20% of IRS survivors experienced student-to-student abuse (Curry, 2010). Although this is a general estimate, it is consistent with reported abuse in a small sample of residential school survivors who had brought legal cases against the government or church, wherein approximately 25% of sexual abuse and 10% of physical abuse claims were perpetrated by other students (Corrado & Cohen, 2003). Peer physical abuse also came in the form of bullying, which could include emotional and psychological elements (TRC, 2012). Although forms of bullying were not differentiated, 61% of a large national sample of survivors living in First Nations communities indicated that bullying by other children had detrimental effects on their mental health and well-being (Bombay, Matheson, & Anisman, 2014b; Bombay et al., 2012).
Given the limited information available concerning peer abuse in IRSs, in January 2012, the Aboriginal Healing Foundation (in Canada) invited Elders, survivors, experts, and other stakeholders to begin discussions regarding this phenomenon. Clearly, one challenge of opening the dialogue on student-to-student abuse in the IRSs is that, although the transgressions are historical, the impacts on Indigenous peoples continue to this day (Bombay, Matheson, & Anisman, 2009, 2014a). Picking at a scab for the sake of curiosity would be damaging and insensitive to the healing process that Indigenous communities are attempting to achieve. At the same time, until these behaviours can be brought to light, understood, and contextualized, the capacity to rebuild positive and healthy Indigenous identities will be limited. Uncovering the dynamics associated with student-to-student abuse can form the basis for identifying strategies for diminishing its hold on survivors, along with the effects of the trauma, perceptions, and learned behaviours on subsequent generations (Bombay et al., 2009, 2014a).
Student-to-student abuse: Interpreting the narrative of service providers
With the support of the Aboriginal Healing Foundation, we initiated a research project aimed at gaining a greater understanding of why student-to-student abuse occured and the long-term consequences that ensued. The full study is reported by Bombay et al. (2014b). The data are based on a survey conducted with 43 health and social service providers who had worked with IRS survivors. Although there are inherent limitations associated with relying on second-hand observations, this approach was deemed to be the best way to explore these issues without putting survivors at risk of retraumatization. Many survivors remain silent about these experiences, as talking about them brings potential emotional and social consequences that they are, as of yet, unprepared to deal with (TRC, 2012). That said, first-hand accounts were provided by some participants, as over half of the service providers were themselves of Aboriginal ancestry (58.1%), and all but one of the Aboriginal service providers was an IRS survivor or had family members who attended an IRS.
Respondents were recruited by sending letters to pre-identified organizations and individuals known to provide services to IRS survivors. In addition, the study was advertised on several Aboriginal health listserves. Those who agreed to participate provided written informed consent, and were given the option of completing an open-ended questionnaire in their own time, being interviewed over the phone, or being interviewed in person (interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed verbatim). Following participation, they received a written debriefing that included information regarding signs of counsellor burnout and compassion fatigue.
Between September 2012 and January 2013, 43 service providers participated by completing a questionnaire (n = 32), phone interview (n = 10), or by being interviewed in person (n = 1). Most were female (n = 26; male n = 17), and aged from 27 to 75 years (M = 54.8, SD = 12.0). Over half of respondents were of Aboriginal ancestry (n = 25, 58.1%); eight indicated that they had attended residential school, and an additional 16 had family members or loved ones who attended (primarily parents or siblings). Almost half of the service providers estimated having worked with over 100 survivors (n = 19; 44.2%). These service providers tended to almost wholly see clients affected by the IRSs and/or worked for agencies that focused on this client population. The remaining service providers worked with from 10 to 50 survivors (n = 15; 34.9%), or less than 10 survivors (n = 9; 20.9%). Their work experiences varied, ranging from private practice, working for health organizations and mental health clinics on and off-reserve, correctional services, or for the IRS Resolution Health Support Program. Nine were psychiatrists or had their PhD in psychology (20.9%), 13 had master's degrees in psychology, social work, or a related field (30.2%), three were psychiatric nurses (7.0%), and the remainder held undergraduate degrees or various forms of counselling or trauma training (41.9%). For our purposes, breakdowns were not conducted based on service provider demographics, as the sample size was too small to provide reliable insights into any variations.
Coding and thematic analysis of the transcripts were conducted using the guidelines of interpretative phenomenological analysis (IPA) through ATLAS.ti in a retro-deductive manner that comprised a continuous cycle of deduction and induction (Blaikie, 2010; Smith & Osborn, 2003). This approach deduces themes from previous literature, providing a basis for establishing initial codes for each survey question (e.g., previous personal victimization experiences was one of the pre-identified codes). This is followed by inductive analyses that allow for new themes to emerge. Because peer abuse had not previously been explored in the context of IRSs, new codes were added and existing codes were refined throughout the analytic process to create operational definitions for each code (reported in Bombay et al., 2014b). Additional rounds of coding confirmed the applicability of the codes, and in some cases this resulted in identifying sub-themes within the larger themes. Responses could be coded in more than one category; however, respondents were only counted once in any given category. Coding of all responses was conducted by one of the co-authors; an independent second coder then reviewed all of the transcripts and coding to ensure the trustworthiness of the schema and coding. To verify the validity of the themes, all participants were given the opportunity to read the report and provide feedback. No participants expressed concerns regarding misrepresentation of their responses.
The numbers of respondents who discussed each theme were calculated to convey the percentage of service providers who spoke about each issue. However, these statistics do not necessarily reflect the relative importance or prevalence of each issue, as the data are based on retrospective and subjective observations of third-party informants, making the validity of these estimates questionable. Any number of other factors likely influenced their perceptions, including the nature of the services they provided (e.g., trauma-focused counselling, work with incarcerated survivors); their personal background experiences (e.g., Indigenous vs. non-Indigenous); their own personal connections to IRSs (e.g., they attended or had a loved one who attended); regional differences, with some parts of Canada not well represented; and characteristics of the survivors that service providers worked with (e.g., factors affecting disclosure of abuse). Although our data do not necessarily speak to the relative pervasiveness of each theme, they nonetheless provide insights into characteristics of student-to-student abuse, and service providers' perceptions of the factors that contributed to this phenomenon, and the associated consequences.
The analysis that follows is based on the themes that are described in their entirety in our largely descriptive report documenting the views, interpretations, and recommendations of the service providers (Bombay et al., 2014b). The quotes were chosen from those themes to convey the intragroup dynamics of the student-to-student abuse and the implications for Indigenous identity. The current study was a theoretical analysis of those data to better understand the social identity dynamics that were not considered in the original interpretations. Specifically, the themes and quotes we present in this paper are intended to illustrate the nature and characteristics of student-to-student abuse that (1) have implications for understanding intragroup processes, and how normally protective behaviours were subverted, and (2) might contribute to longer-term consequences for the collective Indigenous identity over time and across generations.
Findings
Intragroup processes
Reports of student-to-student abuse
All 43 service providers reported that they had worked with at least one client who disclosed being victimized by staff at the IRS, and 81.4% also reported having had a client who reported abuse by another student (n = 35/43). It is important to note that these are not estimates of the proportion of survivors who were actually abused by staff/peers, as those who suffered more extensive abuse histories may have been more (or less) likely to seek counselling, and some service providers in the study specialized in working with victims of trauma and abuse (which might inflate estimates).
The extent of student-to-student abuse relative to abuse by IRS staff was derived from the perceptions of the 19 service providers who had worked with enough survivors (more than 100 each) to be able to provide a reliable impression. All but one of these participants had heard survivor accounts of abuse from other students. Some reported that student-to-student abuse was equally or more likely to be raised by clients than staff abuse, but this varied across types of abuse, with the most prevalent being physical (6/19; 31.6%), followed by emotional (n = 5/19; 26.3%), and sexual abuse by other students (n = 4/19; 21.1%). The emotional and physical abuse that took place was typically mentioned in the context of reports of being bullied. Verbal bullying was perceived to be an everyday practice among students, and included “ridiculing,” “shaming,” “calling names,” and “belittling fellow students.” Some service providers recounted stories of physical bullying that appeared to have lasting impacts on their clients, but others felt that the physical abuse by other students “just isn't viewed the same way. I think it was more expected … like the rough-and-tumble of childhood … even though it was instigated by staff treatment.”
It is important not to minimize the consequences of bullying. However, it has become a topic of concern in a range of contexts (Monks et al., 2009). It has been estimated that approximately 20–30% of non-Indigenous students in mainstream schools are involved in bullying as perpetrators and/or victims (Nansel et al., 2001; Sourander, Helstelä, Helenius, & Piha, 2000). Bullying is not uncommon, with longitudinal studies suggesting that aggressive and disruptive behaviours are universal in early childhood, but as they get older, children learn socially acceptable behaviours from their caregivers, and from interactions with others (Tremblay, 2010).
It has also been reported that peer abuse and bullying is frequent in boarding schools, and occurs more frequently than abuse from staff (Green & Masson, 2002). Peer group hierarchies are likely to form when children live in group settings. Gang-like behaviours increase status, provide a sense of power and control, and can be used for material gains. These, in turn, reinforce the perpetrator's aggression and misuse of power (Parkin & Green, 1997).
Within the context of the IRSs, bullying was pervasively modelled, and the socialization processes that would normally discourage it were largely absent (RCAP, 1996; TRC, 2012). Far from socializing children out of aggression, IRS staff encouraged and rewarded peer abuse. For example, one service provider described how “supervisors groomed the children to be abusers … these bullies only did what they were taught.” Another described how “abuse was normal in the school and the clients felt that other students [perpetrators] were doing what they did because it was sanctioned … by staff, encouraged by staff, or learned from staff” (for a related discussion of such dynamics, see Jones, Haslam, York & Ryan, 2008). As abusive behaviour was modelled by those who held power, and alternative models of power were not presented, abuse was not only normalized, but the capacity to both survive and inflict such abuse had the potential to become valued characteristics of the evolving Indigenous identity.
Implications for intragroup processes
There are two key processes of social identification that are at the foundation of a group's capacity to protect against threats from an outgroup: a sense of entitativity that encourages adherence to a common cause, and an effective leadership structure that provides direction (Haslam, 2001; Haslam et al., 2011). A group that is high in entitativity has a strong sense of cohesion, perceives a common fate and, rather than representing a collection of individuals, espouses common goals, and strongly identifies as a group (Castano, Yzerbyt, & Bourguignon, 2003; Lickel et al., 2000). Although entitativity might represent a positive ingroup feature when the group encounters an external challenge, outgroups are more likely to perceive entitative groups as a threat, capable of intentional collective action (including retaliation), and as malevolent and deserving of punishment (Newheiser, Sawaoka, & Dovidio, 2012).
The themes derived from the reports of the service providers gave insights into the factors within the IRSs that had implications for cohesion among the students. Given the prevailing views of Indigenous peoples, it is not surprising that efforts were exerted to undermine entitativity within the group. IRS staff were described as having purposely made it difficult for students to express their own social norms, or to form trusting relationships with each other. For example, one respondent described how “the staff would reward ‘ratting on your peers’ and punishing everybody if the guilty one failed to own up to their rule-breaking … these things made it difficult to trust other peers.”
Widespread neglect also put students in situations where they were forced to fend for themselves in order to satisfy basic needs, such as having adequate food. That these students went beyond actions needed to survive was not surprising, as they were purposefully made to feel powerless by staff, which often resulted in intense feelings of anger and frustration. For example, several participants described how children were treated from the moment they arrived: It happened right when you got there. You were told you were dirty … you were stripped of your clothes in front of staff you never met before in an aggressive way; they cut your hair off, made you put on different clothes, and gave you a number … you aren't your name anymore, you're a number. They didn't care if the shoes they gave you fit. You were taught from the moment you got there that you were powerless… because of the restrictive and abusive environments in the schools, the kids often were forced to identify with their aggressors, and displace and release their hurt and anger on their younger and weaker peers …. It is human nature. In any kind of situation like that … not just residential school. The students stealing the apple off the younger ones … at least for a couple of minutes it made them feel that they had a little bit of power over themselves and over their life. They showed up at the school full of fear to begin with, but thinking and hoping that they would get some acceptance from the other Aboriginal students …. However, when they didn't receive that and were actually mistreated by their own people, it just intensified their fears and how they felt. Withdrawing within themselves even at a deeper level, and even faster. Feeling isolated and unprotected completely.
Perpetuation of an identity through generations: Maintaining the silence
The connection between student-to-student abuse and the continued effects on the perpetrators and victims, and on communities as a whole, was raised in the reports of the service providers. Many of the students who perpetrated abuse on their peers returned to their communities and maintained their influence. According to several of the service providers, some of the IRS survivors who acknowledged their abuse against peers exhibited guilt and shame, anger and frustration, but at the same time, a need for power and control. This type of response is typical of what has been termed the “bully-victim” (Berger, 2007), which refers to those children who were marginalized within their peer groups (Marini, Dane, Bosacki, & YLC-CURA, 2006), and their bullying behaviours occurred in response to frustration and provocation (i.e., reactive aggression). They typically exhibit high levels of anger and hostility and are likely to have deficient social skills, disturbed emotional regulation, and internalizing disorders, such as depression (Fekkes, Pijpers, Fredriks, Vogels, & Verloove-Vanhorick, 2006; Juvonen, Graham, & Schuster, 2003). Such bullying behaviour among the IRS students might have stemmed from chronic interpersonal stress, victimization, and trauma (Muldoon, 2013). The continuation of behaviours learned in residential school was described by a psychiatrist who described some of the male clients he worked with: They simply thought that is what you do … we have a pool of older men who were mistreated as children, and grew up as teens doing the same thing to other kids in residential school; so now they have become abusers. Then they are out of the residential school setting and kept doing the same thing. Many got arrested and sent to jail, and then they get very despairing because they think that they are innocent and are just not supposed to be there. And they almost always wind up in solitary confinement because they are on suicide watch.
In contrast to the victim-bully are “proactive bullies,” who have positive social skills (Juvonen et al., 2003) and tend to display abusive behaviour that is goal-oriented (Berger, 2007). This form of bullying is likely adaptive and reinforced, as it serves to protect against being victimized, and benefits from privileges or rewards, such as having enough to eat. These individuals' capacity to survive, and their acquired power achieved by modelling the dominant group (IRS staff), enabled them to emerge as leaders among the students. However, their immersion within the hierarchical structure enforced by IRS staff meant that their motivation to protect their Indigenous identity was profoundly disturbed.
Unfortunately, when these individuals returned to their communities, the learned behaviours that conferred power and status were likely perpetuated; to do otherwise would eliminate the foundation for esteem and self-justification among those who had learned to live by the terms of the IRS. Indeed, the service providers heard reports of the problems within communities where these individuals had become the chief or band council members. For example, a counsellor reported how some clients who had been the victims of student-to-student abuse “wouldn't name the person because they were afraid of retaliation because their abusers were now in leadership positions or a head of a program that the individual happened to utilize.” One service provider who attended an IRS reported, “those differences that happened in school happen here. As a result, you can see it at chiefs and leadership meetings … it is still a hindrance in our relations.” Others spoke about the consequences associated with having unhealthy survivors in positions of power: A community will have a chief who is a pedophile, and no one can do anything about it because he is the chief. He has all of the power, he has all the jobs, drives a pickup truck, and makes the decisions about where the money goes. It is very incestuous in the money and politics way. In my earlier days of dealing with my own issues, one of the biggest barriers that I experienced was denial … denial from myself. You give yourself a reality check. Did this really happen to me? Well of course it did. But then there is your family … my parents said, not directly to me, but indirectly, “Move on. Forget, forgive, and move on.” You don't do that unless you deal with it. Then there is denial from former students, denial from your own community, denial from your abuser. So denial is a strong barrier that we need to get around.
Reclaiming identity: Undoing the ties that bind
The IRSs were effective in reshaping Indigenous culture and communities for generations. The student-to-student abuse evoked such personal and collective shame that, years later, perpetrators and victims maintain their respective roles and their silence, thereby perpetuating the social and psychological barriers to positive identity formation. And so the question becomes, how can we use social identity constructs to enable Indigenous communities to redirect intragroup processes to undo the ties of their past, and collectively move forward to reclaim a positive identity and an associated sense of well-being? A strategic path for attaining this goal is exceedingly complex, but it is possible to point to aspects of the process that can be considered.
Acknowledging the process and addressing the acquired identity: Unringing the bell
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Canada (TRC, 2015) provided an opportunity for Indigenous peoples to share their IRS experiences, and for non-Indigenous Canadians to listen and learn. This was necessary to begin the healing process within Indigenous communities, and to achieve the dialogue necessary to bring about a shared understanding of their experiences of oppression, with the eventual goal of healing and reconciliation.
The danger in this is that although an intergroup process was initiated, the intragroup dynamics are such that a key source of survivors' pain remains largely unacknowledged. As in other cases of collective trauma, “a conspiracy of silence” can emerge throughout the community that inhibits full individual disclosures (Nagata & Chen, 2003; Wiseman et al., 2002). As a result, doubts and resentments targeted at members of their own communities remain unvoiced. Moreover, without placing the student-to-student abuse in the context of a toxic intergroup environment, past and present abusive behaviours risk being regarded as intrinsic to the character of the individual perpetrators (Gilbert & Malone, 1995).
Acknowledging the common factors that gave rise to Indigenous children being shaped and manipulated to become either the perpetrator or victim of peer abuse might provide the basis for uniting communities, and reconfirming a shared identity. Both perpetrators and victims of student-to-student abuse were set against each other as pawns of a system designed to decimate their cultural identity. For the community to heal, recognition of the role these behaviours played within that system is needed to allow group members to address their actions and their consequences without judgement or recrimination. Certainly, this does not undo learned behaviours and the emotional consequences. But acknowledgement of the abuser and the abused roles within the IRS system provides the basis for a sense of co-victimization and identification with a common group experience (Subašić, Schmitt, & Reynolds, 2011), as well as addressing the actions that enabled their respective capacity to survive (Lala et al., 2014).
Building the collective infrastructure
Leaders, followers, and a new sense of entitativity
Promoting collective interests requires the re-establishment of group entitativity, and social norms and values that positively reflect on the group. To achieve this, acknowledging past and current abusive behaviours in the context of shared victimization is necessary for Indigenous communities to heal and move forward (Branscombe & Cronin, 2010; Subašić et al., 2011). Such positive change depends on sharing and legitimizing one another's experiences (Reynolds, Eggins, & Haslam, 2010), and on members' willingness to commit themselves to the group's well-being, and to invest in its future (Castano et al., 2003).
As wounds heal, aspects of entitativity could potentially work against the well-being of Indigenous communities. As a positive shared identity is reclaimed, and social norms that reflect this identity evolve, other intragroup processes that encourage group members to conform to the new norms emerge. Although there are merits to such social pressures as the group attempts to regain a valued identity, there is also a risk of marginalizing those who deviate from those norms, or who continue to act in ways that are consistent with the identity acquired within the IRS context (Castano et al., 2002; Lewis & Sherman, 2010; Moss, 2014). While it is important to the well-being of the group to discourage behaviours that undermine the group's collective interests, it will be important for communities to acknowledge differences in the roles individuals played in their common history. For example, leaders will need to emerge who embody valued ingroup characteristics, and have the capacity to inspire others to follow suit (Haslam et al., 2011; Reynolds, Subašić, & Jones, 2012). Some of these emergent leaders might have been perpetrators of student-to-student abuse; to the extent that they are able to acknowledge the damage that their past behaviour created and can reconcile with their victims, they might contribute to the resilience and adaptativeness of the community. Other leaders might have been victims of such abuse, bringing to the forefront their determination and endurance, and the capacity for forgiveness and healing. To the extent that a group's leaders are able to model valued characteristics of the group, a renewed leadership structure can be shaped and supported.
Little is known, however, about the intragroup processes that are involved in the transformation of the meaning of an identity, and how that change can co-occur with modifications of the features that define leadership. Some learned to lead within the IRS system by controlling their peers through controlling resources, and applying rewards and punishments to achieve compliance. Such dominance behaviours were reinforced precisely because they weakened the group identity (in line with the oppressor's goals), but what is needed now is a strengthening of that identity. To do so, the leadership model needs to shift toward individuals who represent the valued features of the group and motivate others to internalize these values to bring about positive outcomes for the group as a whole (Haslam et al., 2011). Acknowledging a shift in the values that constitute leadership could provoke resistance and conflict within the group. Finding a strategy that reshapes group norms, but does not marginalize group members who have filled a role that they were chosen to fill by their oppressor will be a challenge. Much like reconciliation with the oppressor, reclaiming an inclusive identity that embraces all members of the group will be key to the success of Indigenous communities (Gobodo-Madikizela, 2008; Moss, 2014).
Socializing the next generation
The effects of IRSs were passed down through generations and continue to influence today's youth (Bombay et al., 2012). The rationale that Indigenous children had to be “caught young to be saved from what is on the whole the degenerating influence of their home environment” (Archbishop Louis Philip Langevin, as cited in Milloy, 1999), can also be adopted to serve the interests of Indigenous communities. Educating Indigenous children and youth about their collective history and the factors that contributed to their current challenges allows them to reaffirm the value of their survival and cultural persistence.
Through a shared understanding of what occurred within IRSs, Indigenous youth might be empowered to bring about change. By demonstrating that healing depends on their capacity to disrupt the negative cycles that were catalyzed by the IRS system, a sense of control over their own destiny may be engendered. Such interventions are critically needed, as even today, Indigenous youth are more likely to be victims and perpetrators of aggression, bullying, and violence (Pu et al., 2013), and they experience high rates of psychological distress (First Nations Information Governance Centre, 2012; Kirmayer et al., 2007). These negative outcomes have been linked to a disruption of cultural identity and historical losses (Flanagan et al., 2011; Whitbeck, Walls, Johnson, Morrisseau, & McDougall, 2009). Moreover, continued systemic discrimination serves as a reminder of their subordinate status and lack of power (Fryberg, Markus, Oyserman, & Stone, 2008; Hartshorn et al., 2012; Whitbeck et al., 2009).
Although it is difficult to protect Indigenous children from experiences that elicit negative feelings about their group, implementing programs to promote the development of positive cultural identities might buffer against these adverse experiences. Of relevance to the intergenerational transmission of collective trauma experienced by Indigenous peoples, parents were more likely to convey protective cultural socialization behaviours with their children when they were aware of their own ethnicity-related experiences and they held positive feelings about their identity (Thomas, Speight, & Witherspoon, 2010). Socializing children to understand their collective experiences, enabling them to establish a sense of cultural connection and entitativity, and providing them with leaders who model positive values such as resilience and survival, rather than despair and hopelessness, may be important steps in the healing process (Kirmayer, Dandeneau, Marshall, Phillips, & Williamson, 2011).
Conclusion
A social identity framework provides a well theorized and empirically supported tool for understanding intergroup relations (Haslam, 2014; Reicher et al., 2010). At the foundation of a group's cognitions, emotions, and actions are intragroup processes that provide meaning to the group identity, establish social norms, and determine group structures and leadership. Our analysis of the role of student-to-student abuse as it was encouraged and rewarded within the IRS system suggests a gap in social identity theorizing. In particular, although pitting victim group members against one another is evident in many historical conflicts, ranging from the kapos in the German concentration camps in World War II, to the hierachical structures established among slaves on southern plantations in the United States during slavery, the conditions that influence the effects and effectiveness of this strategy on eradicating a positive and distinctive ethno-cultural identity have not been evaluated. Moreover, it is clear that group entitivity, shared meaning making, and effective and empowering leadership are needed to regain collective well-being (Haslam, 2014), but positive and inclusive strategies for overcoming the divides that were imposed by the dominant group need to be better understood within social identity theorizing in order for it to effectively serve as a tool for the empowerment of disadvantaged groups.
Just as Indigenous communities need to grapple with the different strengths that emerged within individuals as they survived the IRSs, for reconciliation to occur between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians, there needs to be a recognition of the diversity of values and interests within and across Indigenous communities. Although there were some individuals who believed that the IRSs were providing Indigenous children with an education that would enable them to be more productive citizens, the fundamental principles underlying the creation of the IRS system were racist, and represented an explicit attempt to eradicate what were perceived as the defining characteristics of the Indigenous peoples. Indeed, perceptions of outgroup homogeneity are an integral part of intergroup relations (Turner et al., 1987). If conflicting interests are to be resolved, and for reconcialiation to occur, as Indigenous communities move beyond such dichotomies, non-Indigenous Canadians likewise need to develop a more complex understanding of social relationships and intergroup cooperation. It is not simply a matter of apologizing for history, and dismissing the present as “not our problem” (Subašić & Reynolds, 2009). While change must be driven by Indigenous peoples, non-Indigenous Canadians must work in solidarity with them to achieve a society founded in justice.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
References
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