Grainswest - Fall 2024

Fall 2024 Grains West 38 sell and a host of fraudulent coercion tactics were common in such surrenders and have been recognized as illegal in contemporary land claims settlements. In the 1920s, Breaker’s grandfather was one of 126 individuals and families from Siksika to be allocated 80 acres for agricultural use. Over decades, the number of farmers has dwindled, a fact Breaker attributes to interference on the part of the Indian agency system. The federal government’s on-reserve representative from the 1830s to the mid-1960s, the Indian agent’s role was to enforce policy vis-a-vis the Indian Act. These individuals did so through a lens that viewed First Nations people as wards of the state. Often capricious, they had the power to withhold funds and deny the use of farm equipment. “You had to follow his rules. Children had to attend residential school and not run away,” said Breaker. Even if they followed the rules, Indigenous farmers were often still penalized, according to Carter. Measures such as land surrenders and withholding access to farm equipment were used to prioritize settler agriculture and ensure Indigenous operations remained non- competitive. “As Indian farmers acquired skills and technology and reserve agriculture took hold, they began to pose a threat as competitors,” wrote Carter. From the 1880s on, the Department of Indian Affair’s policies discouraged such prosperity to placate white farmers and attract immigrants. “In the process, reserve agriculture suffered.” “The Department of Indian Affairs wanted to stall things on the First Nation lands. With all three [Blackfoot] tribes, and some of the others in Saskatchewan,” said Breaker. “They made it a lot tougher for us. My grandfather and others in his clan were punished for being too successful, by not being allowed to use the diesel and gas tractors that were just introduced. So, he just reverted to using a plow and horse team.” His grandfather persevered, but many did not. “A lot of them, they just had enough,” said Breaker. He estimated that by the 1940s half of the original 126 farmers had dropped out, a downward trend that continued for decades. Even as his own father took over the operation in the 1960s, many of the few who had managed to hang on turned their plots over to the care of the Breakers. LAND CERTAINTY Today, Breaker and two of his brothers farm approximately 1,200 acres of wheat, canola, barley and oats. He estimated the operation was closer to 2,000 at its height. Business has been good, especially this season with its adequate rain. A fourth brother, Robert Breaker, oversees his own cattle and crops operation. Despite the brothers’ successes, Breaker reckons his generation of family farmers may be the last on Siksika soil. “I don’t see it,” he said. “Not unless the band helps them with the debt load.” He did note equipment loans are available through the Calgary-based, Indigenous-owned Indian Business Corporation. Breaker’s sister, Hester Breaker, shares her brother’s concerns about the future of family farms on Siksika. As the Nation’s land manager, however, she also sees the potential for large-scale, band-led agricultural opportunities. FEATURE “ My grandfather and others in his clan were punished for being too successful, by not being allowed to use the diesel and gas tractors that were just introduced. So, he just reverted to using a plow and horse team. ” — Stewart Breaker