By Lauren McKeon

This week, new Indian and Northern Affairs Minister John Duncan read out the federal government’s official apology for the forced relocation of 19 Inuit families in the 1950s. These 87 Inuit, who later became known as the High Arctic exiles, were taken from their homes in Inukjuak, on the northeast shore of Hudson Bay, and displaced thousands of miles north to empty expanses of land – now Resolute Bay and Grise Fiord.

The government, certainly, was right to admit it played dirty by treating Inuit as chess pieces in the great game of Arctic sovereignty. In Nunavut, the hurt and social ills that came with being torn from home, and plunked in a place with no traditional or cultural significance – never mind no familiarity – has been pervasive through the generations. Inuit were not given proper supplies, nor accurate information about how far and where they were going, or told they were going to be split into two communities – and the government didn't make good on a promise to move any Inuit who didn't like their new home back. Not exactly the beginnings of a healthy community.

But an apology? Surely it closes a circle. But, like Stephen Harper’s official “I’m sorry” in 2008 over the residential school disaster, this one has the ring of paradox: significant and empty at the same time. Until the federal government radically changes the policies and attitudes that allowed these injustices – relocation, residential school – to happen, it’s hard to give nods to past wrongs too much weight. We should ask: do we want a culture of apology? Or do we want to foster a political culture that does something – that truly lifts the aboriginal population up, with real opportunity to raise strong and meaningful economic and social pillars? I’d choose the latter. Unfortunately, I don’t see the feds changing their tune any time soon.