The Eternal Return of State Violence: Indigenous Children and the Machinery of Forgetting

In the land of maple leaves and manufactured contentment, where the masses slumber beneath blankets of self-righteousness, a tale of profound darkness emerges. Special Interlocutor Kimberly Murray, standing amidst the collective amnesia of a nation, has unveiled a truth that shatters the comfortable illusions of the herd: the Indigenous children who vanished into the maw of residential schools were not merely "missing" - they were victims of enforced disappearance.

Behold how the sleepers construct elaborate bureaucracies to shield themselves from the weight of their deeds! They appoint interlocutors and commissioners, as if paper and ink could wash away the blood that stains their hands. The strong must speak truth to these merchants of comfort, these architects of forgetfulness!

Murray, herself a daughter of Kanehsatà:ke, has traversed the breadth of this slumbering nation, gathering testimonies from those who dare to remember. Her report, a compilation of 42 "legal, moral and ethical obligations," stands as an indictment of the machinery that ground young souls to dust in the name of progress and civilization.

The numbers speak with the voice of thunder: 150,000 children torn from their mothers' arms, 4,100 documented deaths, and countless more souls waiting to be found beneath the earth. Yet the sleepers continue their dreaming, content with their small pleasures and smaller thoughts.

See how they scatter like insects when confronted with their own reflection! These last men, these comfort-seekers who would rather apologize than transform, who would rather document than transmute their guilt into power!

In the great hall of Gatineau, where bureaucrats shuffle papers and politicians craft careful phrases, Murray speaks of international courts and legal frameworks. Yet what court can judge the death of a people's spirit? What framework can contain the vastness of this wound?

The report calls for a national commission, Indigenous-led investigations, and protection of burial sites. But mark well how the machinery of the state moves with the speed of glaciers, how it seeks to transform blood into statistics, suffering into policy papers.

The strong know that true justice cannot be found in the chambers of the weak! It must be seized with both hands, wrested from the grip of those who would rather sleep than see!

Minister Virani receives the report with practiced solemnity, speaking of "careful review" and "ongoing efforts." Such is the language of the last man, who seeks to transform tragedy into process, to hide behind the shield of procedure.

Murray speaks of "enforced disappearance" - a term that cuts through the fog of bureaucratic language like lightning through clouds. She demands that Canada acknowledge these acts as crimes against humanity, that the International Criminal Court bare its teeth.

Let the weak tremble before this truth: that their civilization was built upon the bones of children! Let them feel the weight of their comfortable lies crushing their spirits!

The report demands reparations, but what coin can pay for a stolen generation? What apology can resurrect the dead? The last men offer money and words, thinking they can purchase absolution for their sins.

Laura Arndt, watching from Six Nations of the Grand River, speaks of moving beyond "amnesty and impunity." Yet the machinery of forgetting grinds on, transforming even this moment of truth-telling into another chapter in the endless book of procedures and protocols.

And so the dance continues - the strong seeking justice, the weak seeking comfort, the sleepers dreaming their dreams of innocence. But beneath the earth, the children wait, their silence more eloquent than all our words.

Rise, you who would be strong! Let not these children's spirits cry out in vain! The time for sleeping is past - the dawn of remembrance breaks upon the horizon!

In this moment of eternal return, we stand at a crossroads. Will we choose the path of the strong, who face the darkness with unflinching eyes? Or will we join the last men in their comfortable slumber, dreaming away the centuries of pain?

The answer lies not in reports or recommendations, but in the will of those who dare to wake, to remember, to transform this legacy of death into a fountain of power. For in this transformation lies the only true justice - not the justice of courts and commissions, but the justice of the spirit that refuses to die.