Tradition, Prophecy, Spirituality, and Hope Theme Analysis

At the beginning of Seven Fallen Feathers, author Tanya Talaga discusses the prophecy of the seven fires, which outlines seven key time periods in the history of North America’s Indigenous people. Toward the end of the book, Nishnawbe Aski Nation grand chief Alvin Fiddler speaks of an “eighth fire”—the reconciliation and mutual advancement of white settlers and Indigenous people. Though centuries of cultural genocide and systemic racism have threatened to destroy Indigenous cultures, Talaga explores how traditional spirituality continues to provide a beacon of hope for Indigenous Canadians. Indigenous people’s “cultural values, laws, and ideologies of traditional approaches to conflict resolution” have allowed them to remain resilient and optimistic about the future, even in the midst of great suffering. As a result, Talaga suggests that Indigenous Canadians generally seek to establish “harmony” and “good faith” relations with white Canadians rather than retribution. And it is because of longstanding cultural and spiritual traditions that Indigenous Canadians are able to “hope against hope” that their nation’s painful past can still be overcome.

Even though Indigenous culture has been decimated by colonialism, Talaga shows how Indigenous communities continue to draw strength from their cultural legends, spiritual beliefs, and community values. Talaga provides two profound examples of how community care and cultural foundations keep Indigenous people strong—even in the face of great tragedy. Reggie Bushie and Kyle Morrisseau were two of the titular “seven fallen feathers,” Indigenous students who lost their lives while attending boarding school in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Both boys’ bodies were dredged from the city’s McIntyre River, several years apart. And both boys were survived by people who loved them intensely and who mourned their deaths: Reggie’s brother Ricki and Kyle’s father, Christian. In two separate moments in the book, Talaga describes Ricki and Christian’s responses to their loved one’s deaths: Ricki and Christian both visited the river to drop traditional offerings of tobacco into the water. Christian even went as far as to thank the river for taking his son. These anecdotes illustrate how cultural and spiritual tradition can shape Indigenous people’s responses to tragedy. Both Ricki and Christian expressed pain and anger at the deaths of their loved ones—and they continue to suspect that there was foul play involved in Reggie and Kyle’s deaths. But both Ricki and Christian’s spiritual backgrounds allowed them to focus on gratitude for the time that they had with their loved ones and on healing from their losses, rather than bitterness and retribution.

Talaga illustrates how in spite of assaults on Indigenous Canadians’ autonomy and cultural practices, a tradition of peaceful conflict resolution and the pursuit of justice over retribution continues to drive their relations with the majority-white government of Canada. Indigenous people want justice and visibility—but Talaga notes how their fight for those things is rarely tinged with bitterness or a desire for retribution. Even when the government clearly overlooks Indigenous communities’ needs, Talaga shows, Indigenous people aren’t mired in resentment—instead, they take initiative to improve their communities without outside help. Talaga offers a small example of this when she relays a story from Sam Achneepineskum, an Elder who attended the inquest into the deaths of the “seven fallen feathers” to offer spiritual guidance to the students’ families. Sam was a survivor of the residential schools himself—so he knew how much was at stake emotionally for the families attending the inquest. When Sam arrived at the courtroom where the inquest was to be held, he found that the room was insultingly small, and that there weren’t nearly enough chairs for all the families and community members whom the government had granted permission to attend. Even though Sam was pained at the way this oversight represented how white Canadians overlook Indigenous people, he got right to work moving chairs in from other courtrooms and making sure that there’d be a seat for anyone who wanted one. As an Elder, Sam recognized the sacred importance of putting his people’s needs first rather than becoming mired in hurt or rage. Sam’s response was rooted in righting a wrong and looking out for his community above all, rather than creating conflict.

Ultimately, Talaga suggests that it is because of their traditions of community, spirituality, and justice that Indigenous people are able to maintain an optimistic view of their future relations with white Canadians. The “eighth fire” that Alvin Fiddler speaks of toward the end of the book doesn’t exist in the original prophecy of the seven fires, which describes seven epochs or phases of relations between Indigenous people and the “light skinned race.” It’s a new prophecy entirely—and while the other “fires” speak of division and destruction, this eighth fire speaks of hope and reconciliation. Talaga includes the anecdote about Fiddler’s eighth fire to illustrate the enduring hope that Indigenous and white Canadians can move forward together from the country’s colonial past. Canada’s slights against its Indigenous population have been many and severe. But as Indigenous community members across Canada told former Supreme Court justice and legal advocate Frank Iacobucci, there is a “fundamental conflict” between Indigenous approaches to conflict resolution and the Canadian justice system’s laws and values. In other words, Talaga’s book suggests that the bureaucracy of the Canadian justice system—which is focused on retribution, consequences, and cause and effect—is fundamentally at odds with Indigenous people’s approach to conflict resolution. The latter is rooted in balance, harmony, and truth—not hollow, punitive punishments or repayments. The book suggests that Indigenous people’s cultural traditions and spiritual practices have actually given them greater hope for authentic, meaningful change. While many Indigenous people do fear that “true reconciliation” is still far-off or unreachable, the pursuit of a more productive, reparative approach to justice rooted in community and peace remains vital to those, like Alvin Fiddler, who hope for true change.