The pursuit of resource development in First Nations traditional territories in recent years has witnessed an evolution in First Nations-corporate relations. While dominant culture developments on Crown lands proceeded in the past without Aboriginal consultation, the combination of Aboriginal resistance and political activism, recognition of treaty rights as defined under section 35 of the Constitution Act, 1982, and the Supreme Court of Canada's ruling in Delgamuukw vs. British Columbia (1997) has changed resource development practices nationally (Imai 1998). Mining, forestry, and energy industries all have an increasing "duty to consult and accommodate" Aboriginal peoples during both the exploratory and development phases (Labeau 2007; see also INAC 2006). Any major development project grows incrementally and has cumulative impacts (environmental, social, and political) from initial exploration through project completion. The Cabinet Directive on Implementing the Canadian Environmental Assessment Act (CEAA 2009) provides a framework for ensuring that unfavourable environmental effects are identified and proactively mitigated prior to approval of a development project. This important legislation helps diminish environmental injustices.

Project development in northern Canada involves the complex interplay of the Crown's fiduciary role together with the legislated requirement that environmental assessments be conducted and agreements negotiated with affected Aboriginal communities. The impact and benefit agreement has become the standard means for articulating negotiations between a representative Aboriginal organization and an industrial proponent (Fidler and Hitch 2007). Impact and benefit agreements, generally speaking, are confidential contractual agreements between an affected Aboriginal community, an industrial proponent, and a provincial or territorial government. They are frequent in non-renewable resource development industries. These negotiated agreements determine how Aboriginal communities will share in the benefits of the non-renewable resource development and how the partners will mitigate social and environmental harm (Hitch 2010; Knotsch and Warda 2009). This paradigm for corporate development in Aboriginal territories, though certainly an improvement from the former colonial model that excluded Aboriginal input, is not without its imperfections. Of considerable concern is the interpretative potential associated with these mandated activities, not least of which is the inherent wiggle room in the consultative process. Some challenges include ensuring that Traditional Ecological Knowledge is sought and properly considered (Whitelaw, McCarthy, and Tsuji 2009; Mulvihill and Baker 2001; Armitage 2005), achieving meaningful participation for all parties (Stewart and Sinclair 2007), and creating equitable negotiation outcomes given the often profound power and cultural differences between proponents and stakeholders (Chataway 2002; Banerjee 2000).

Development occurs, of course, within an inescapably politico-temporal realm, which in the Canadian context, as elsewhere, is highly vexed. The shift in the past quarter century towards a neo-liberal globalized market, where transnational economic forces have gained ascendency, boundaries of nation-states have become increasingly fluid, and state protectionism and interventionism has withered, has had varying social consequences. Thomas D. Hall and James V. Fenelon (2009) have argued that Indigenous peoples are often negatively impacted by globalized transnational capitalist processes as lands and cultural lifeways become increasingly at risk of corporate plunder. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak identifies "financialization of the globe" as a problematic phenomenon in which those situated powerfully within the globalized model assert exploitative transnationality with harmful effects on culture (1999, 364). Vandana Shiva, writing of Indigenous peoples globally, as well as about experiences particular to the Indian continent, maintains that neo-liberal globalization, characterized by laissez-faire politics, is unequivocally linked to ecological degradation, social and cultural breakdown, and the weakening of "conditions for self-rule, self-governance, and self-organization" (1997, 119).

In Canada, this globalization process must be examined for its unique effects on Aboriginal communities. While Gabrielle Slowey (2008) argues that optimistically the current climate of neo-liberal policies benefits those First Nations that are "well-resourced," the authors of this essay maintain that simultaneity does not suggest causality. That is, we believe that the development-related benefits accruing to First Nations at this time can be traced to court rulings, however flawed (see Alfred 1999), that mandate a duty to consult. Without these rulings, in the current relaxed, permissive neo-liberal environment, corporate entities would likely adopt a business-as-usual approach proceeding with development pursuits absent a consultative process with relevant First Nations, as they did before Delgamuukw. Indeed, libertarian Tom Flanagan, who insists First Nations are simply Canada's "first immigrants," desires the elimination of Aboriginal rights and strenuously promotes assimilation; he and others of his political stripe would construe the duty to consult First Nations as emblematic of the knotty "Aboriginal orthodoxy in Canada" (2008, 3). While Alan Cairns (2000), with his "citizens plus" model, provides a strong counter discourse to Flanagan's propaganda, arguing for a political and theoretical middle ground between colonial assimilationist approaches and Indigenous separatist aims, Dale Turner maintains that this approach is flawed for its failure to consider a number of key concerns properly, including "the legacy of colonialism," "the sui generis nature of Indigenous rights," "the Canadian state's unilateral claim of sovereignty over Aboriginal lands and peoples," and the impossibility of theorizing Aboriginal rights without involving Aboriginal peoples (2008, 7). Duncan Ivison's "postcolonial liberalism" (2002) proffers a refreshing turn in the debate surrounding the Aboriginal-Canadian state relationship. Recognizing that rights are central to Aboriginal self-government, self-determination, and culture, Ivison theorizes the need for a "complex mutual coexistence" in which Indigenous and non-Indigenous values are realized through mutuality and collaboration, attention to regional particularities, and effective Aboriginal participation in restructuring the political order (2). Ivison's position is consistent with a central theme of Turner's, a wish for truly democratic dialogue surrounding Aboriginal rights, in which Aboriginal voices are invited, heard, and acted upon (2008).

It is within this larger context that this essay utilizes a case study, intended to understand the effects of First Nations-corporate negotiations and economic development in two remote Northern Ontario communities, Moose Cree First Nation (MCFN) and the largely Aboriginal Town of Moosonee where many MCFN band members reside. In 2008 and 2009 respectively, MCFN entered into impact and benefit agreements with De Beers Canada and Ontario Power Generation, Inc. These two communities are within the Treaty 9 area. Aboriginal signatories to Treaty 9 in part agreed to share jurisdiction over ceded lands, an arrangement that included the retention of treaty rights to hunt, fish, and trap in their traditional territories. The present research explored how community members viewed shifting economic practices and structures under these negotiations, including the outcomes to date: these include not only issues of employment, entrepreneurship, capital growth, and the political goal of self-determination, but also impacts on self and community wellness vis-à-vis the medicine wheel model (see Nabigon and Mawhiney 1996). Because many Aboriginal communities describe having a sacred relationship with their land base (S. Wilson 2008; Little Bear 1998) where the natural world is to be respected and not heedlessly exploited (Oakes, Riewe, and Maloney 1998), this study also investigated the corporate development's impacts on traditional land-use practices and cultural identity, which involves a rich web of ethics and responsibilities to non-human species and the land, a reciprocal matrix often inscrutable to outsiders. Aboriginal peoples have long had hybrid economies. The term traditional is not used to describe economies, which would be fossilizing, but rather to underscore a specific type of activity, such as hunting, fishing, and trapping mainly for subsistence and reinforcement of cultural lifeways as discussed by the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (1996b). Even within these traditional pursuits, the hybridity of technologies, such as the adoption of rifles and snowmobiles, is evident.

Context and Research Methods

MCFN has an approximate population of 2,700, and is located on Moose Factory Island in southern James Bay, across the Moose River from the slightly larger community of Moosonee. MCFN is one of seven member communities comprising the Mushkegowuk Council, a group of historically independent First Nations that have formed a regional entity and functioned as a collective political organization since 1984. Four of the Mushkegowuk Council member nations are coastal communities located along the west coast of James Bay. Attawapiskat is the northernmost of these four. The Victor diamond mine of De Beers is located approximately 90 kilometres to the west of this First Nation on Mushkegowuk traditional lands. The open-pit mine, which has an adjacent on-site processing plant, began construction in 2006 and initiated commercial production in 2008. Mine-site operations necessitated water management facilities, project roads, pipelines, an airstrip, and storage facilities. Lodgings for the 500 employees were built, as well as a second power line to meet the mine's energy needs, and a winter road connecting all the coastal First Nations (Whitelaw, McCarthy, and Tsuji 2009). The total cost of construction was approximately $1 billion. Of this amount, Aboriginal companies made about $167 million. Over the projected 13-year life of the Victor mine, De Beers estimates it will contribute an estimated $6.7 billion to the gross domestic product of Canada (De Beers 2009).

MCFN has also negotiated a landmark agreement with Ontario Power Generation (a publicly owned utility) that involves redeveloping four power-generating dams on the Lower Mattagami River. While this development is estimated to bring $500 million to MCFN over a 50-year period and is anticipated to create related jobs, contracts, and joint-venture opportunities (Stewart 2010), the project had not yet begun its 18-month construction phase at the time of our research. Hence, respondents' views regarding this agreement figured less prominently in our findings than those relating to De Beers.

The suggested principles and protocols for research involving Aboriginal peoples guided the methodological approach used for this study (Canadian Institutes of Health Research 2007). The lead researchers involved with this project, one a non-Aboriginal person and the other a MCFN band member, have over 20 years' combined experience working with Aboriginal communities. To understand the effects of the negotiated agreements with De Beers and Ontario Power Generation, we visited the communities of MCFN and Moosonee in the early spring 2010 to collect primary data using a culturally appropriate semi-structured long-interview method with key informants (McCracken 1988; Smith 1999). The in-depth long-interview approach cultivates an interactive and reciprocal way of knowing that is consistent with the relational value, involving empirical and intuitive knowing, as well as attention to social, ecological, and cosmological balance (Wilson 2008; Ermine 1999) central to Indigenous knowledge; it promotes egalitarianism by foregrounding respondent experiences and diminishing researcher control, and generates detailed descriptions that are well able to capture the complexities of nuanced issues. Moreover, the long-interview approach has a high degree of congruity with the orality that characterizes Cree history and culture, where knowledge transfer and ceremonial practices have traditionally depended on stories (Weber-Pillwax 2001). Key informants were selected using purposive sampling, which creates maximum variation by purposefully selecting a breadth of perspectives from distinct categories (Patton 1990). Key informants also functioned as gatekeepers, directing us to other possible participants (Creswell 2007) in a process that honours the knowledge residing within the community (Cardinal 2001). In all, 17 key informants were interviewed, and they included former chiefs and grand chiefs, executive directors of community agencies, program directors, business persons, spiritual leaders and elders, property managers, direct-service practitioners, and an employee of the Victor diamond mine. All key informants were over 18 years old and consented both orally and in writing to being interviewed. Multiple coders used the grounded theory approach developed by Anselm Strauss and Juliet Corbin (1998) to conduct a themed analysis of the interview data, which had been transcribed verbatim.

Interview questions were developed with the Cree Medicine Wheel model (Nabigon and Mawhiney 1996) in mind, being sure to have questions that would address the mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, and community dimensions of the impact and benefit agreement's impact on MCFN members. Though the model was not used as a tool in the analysis process, it did inform researchers' understandings. The research was analyzed using grounded theory methodology, which used to presume a neutral theoretical base; it is now commonly understood that such neutrality is not achievable or desirable. This study was guided by a critical theoretical framework and a decolonizing lens (Kovach 2009) in an effort to understand and unmask the colonial dimensions and inequities in narratives shared.

Because the intent of this essay is to describe the development process from the perspective of the First Nations directly affected, no representatives of government or the companies involved (De Beers and Ontario Power Generation) were interviewed. Undoubtedly their story would be somewhat different.

Results

Five main themes emerged from our analysis of the data: employment issues; social and physical health concerns; negotiations and meaningful community involvement; corporate social responsibility, social capital, and capacity building; and environmental concerns and cultural relevance. Within and across participant interviews, these themes intersect and overlap in a narrative manner not fully captured here in their discrete, truncated presentation.

Unemployment, Employment and Economic Stimulation

The community-corporate relationship between Aboriginal peoples and the extractive resource industry must be understood not only in terms of self-government and Aboriginal rights (Saku 2002; Sosa and Keenan 2001), but also in the context of the employment climate. Aboriginal peoples in many ways find themselves "between a rock and a hard place"-the apt title of a 1999 conference held in Ottawa convening Aboriginal peoples to discuss mining impacts in their communities-as political aspirations and disquieting unemployment rates heighten the appeal of new economic developments. Despite minor improvement between 2001 and 2006, the employment rates of Aboriginal peoples remain significantly below those of the non-Aboriginal population, with on-reserve populations faring worse than off-reserve Aboriginal peoples (Statistics Canada 2009, 2010a). Of the key informants interviewed for this study, most made reference to high unemployment rates in both Moosonee and MCFN: "In looking at the Aboriginal unemployment only, not the community [Moosonee] as a whole, I would say at least 65% are unemployed." MCFN respondents, as well, reported unemployment challenges: "I'm not sure what the unemployment rate would be.... It's high. It's obviously high."

When discussing available jobs, many key informants identified the health care, social services, and education sectors as the biggest employers; this is consistent with 2009 employment findings for Aboriginal peoples across Canada (Statistics Canada 2010b). For instance, one participant stated, "I would say social and education are the largest employers ... government agencies, child welfare, our local family social services." Another participant had a similar view, but emphasized health care more prominently: "The major employers in the communities would be James Bay General Hospital, and then Weeneebayko General Hospital, and then you have the schools, the teachers, and the social services."

While some community members have the requisite qualifications to seek and obtain employment in these settings, the fact remains that many do not. Colonialism and capitalism have imposed a wage economy on many Aboriginal peoples, as non-market values and the more traditional aspects of mixed economies have been diminished by systematic cultural erosion (RCAP 1996a) and the degradation of their land and resource base resulting from non-Aboriginal activities (McDaniels and Trousdale 2005). As one key informant poignantly expressed, "You can't derive a livelihood from living off the land anymore. Skills are down ... people just want to go in to work."

Aboriginal peoples in Canada, however, face significant labour market challenges (Luffman and Sussman 2007; Kuhn and Sweetman 2002). As a result, many in northern communities rely on social assistance, which is sometimes preferred over the often lower income earned on poor wages (Shewell 1991). As one key informant stated, "The employment opportunities are next to zero here [Moosonee]. There's some seasonal employment ... but that is basically it. The big department store will take you. They do not pay much. You are better off on welfare than working there." Several key informants also spoke of precarious employment:

People used to go tree planting in the spring. I do not think many people do that these days. Firefighting, they go through the training. Again, that's just whenever something happens. They may take the training and just wait. That does not make you employed. That is about it: firefighting, tree planting and the skidoo-ing.... I mean the river taxi or the land taxi. There are always drivers that are needed. In the winter time there is the skidoo taxis until the river is thawed and unable to be crossed, then there's the river taxi.

Several other key informants shared variations of this theme, with one stating, "Most of the guys were doing just seasonal jobs and leaving town when they could get a job, just doing seasonal jobs here and there" and another describing how "the river taxiing or street taxiing [is] subsidized through welfare ... so either way they don't really get out of the system."

Given this employment context, the undeniable support most key informants expressed regarding the negotiated agreements, even if qualified by profound reservations, is not surprising. After four centuries of conflict and displacement, the Canadian government no longer denies Aboriginal resource, land, and self-government rights (see Calder v. Attorney General of British Columbia 1973; Delgamuukw v. British Columbia 1997; R. v. Sparrow 1990). As a result, Aboriginal communities across the country are pursuing economic developments and strong entrepreneurship opportunities with self-determination, economic autonomy, continuation of traditional values, and improved individual and community health as their goals (Anderson, Dana, and Dana 2006). The negotiated agreements with De Beers and Ontario Power Generation are seen as a solution, however imperfect, to a deficient economy: "Basically we don't really have an economy here ... for people to participate in ... so we're looking for something for community members to do. We're looking for employment, something that's resource based rather than government-type programs." Another key informant, recognizing changes in the land and harvesting prospects, perceives the agreements as necessary to the future success of community members: "We have to keep up with the times here. Our geese are very scarce now. Hunting we don't do as much now. The younger generation are into all kinds of other stuff.... I encourage them to go work at De Beers.... Overall I believe that De Beers has benefited a lot of our Native people." The possession or development of a strong economic base is a central desire of most nations. In the context of a constrained renewable resource base, where traditional pursuits are limited or undermined, and poverty and marginalization are considerable, First Nations have argued that the development of a solid economy guided by First Nations but not isolated from the larger Canadian economy helps to achieve self-determination aims (RCAP 1996b).

Social and Physical Health Concerns

Many key informants see Aboriginal-corporate negotiated agreements not only as an opportunity to alleviate poverty but also as a means to mitigate the associated negative health and social outcomes, such as addictions, diabetes, and mental health challenges. As one informant put it, an economic environment characterized primarily by social transfers impacts "self-esteem ... like they don't feel like they can support their family and it brings them down physically, mentally, emotionally. And that's why a lot of them take to alcohol and drugs because there's no way that they can handle it." In Canada, statistics indicate Aboriginal peoples have poorer health than the mainstream Canadian population with higher rates of diabetes, heart disease, and addiction (Health Canada 2009a). The prevalence of diabetes, a significant health problem among First Nations peoples living on reserves, is three to five times that of the non-Aboriginal Canadian population (Health Canada 2009b; AFN 2006; Young et al. 2000).

Although healthy diet and regular physical activity are key to reducing diabetes in this high-risk population (Ho et al. 2008), the cost of nutritious food is prohibitive in these northern communities, and so recommending dietary change is less than adequate (Willows 2005). Several key informants identified diabetes as a significant health concern afflicting their community. Some observed the connection between poor jobs, low incomes, limited access to nutritious foods, and diabetes: "Diabetes is ... on the rise. Young people are getting it. And that's again attributable to not being able to buy healthy food. You know, it's cheaper to buy pop and chips than to buy the fruits or whatever, you know. And it's more noticeable when you go up [the coast] farther because that's what they buy, pop and chips." Although some key informants believed the jobs created through the negotiated agreements would help diabetes as healthy food would become more affordable, others feared that if "men" in the community (who customarily perform the role of harvesting "traditional foods") were preoccupied with work at the mine, there might not be time for performing this important function, which could be problematic as a greater consumption of wild rather than processed food is known to reduce diabetes incidence (AFN 2006): "A big part of my diet is still traditional foods. And I know that's true of other people, so if you don't have your husband going to get what you need for the year, of course that can have a huge impact on the family, on their stock of wild game for the year."

Alcohol and drug abuse is another health concern that was raised in many of the key informant interviews. As one participant stated, "There's a lot of alcohol and drug abuse here, a lot, not only here but in other First Nations too." This is consistent with national research findings, which identify substance use issues within Aboriginal communities across Canada (Statistics Canada 1993; RCAP 1996a). More recently, statistics have shown lower rates overall for alcohol consumption among on-reserve First Nations adults, but a higher percentage of heavy drinking among First Nations people than non-Aboriginal Canadians (Health Canada 2009b). Key informants in this study described "residential school," "cultural disruption," and "family breakdown" as some of the key factors underpinning drug and alcohol abuse, which is compatible with other study findings (Wardman and Quantz 2005; see also Richmond et al. 2005). Similar to those who spoke regarding diabetes, several key informants believe the impact of the negotiated agreements on substance abuse is twofold. On the one hand, key informants believe that the economic stimulation will reduce substance abuse issues: "People have nothing to do. That's the problem." It is thought that economic conditions prior to the agreements led to despondency. Another key informant elaborated on this point:

When we don't have much hope, we grope for things. We look for things and then more often when we grope for things, we find sometimes the things that we look for to make us happy don't make us happy-drugs, alcohol, those kinds of things, bootlegging, drug dealing. I want to make money; I'll deal that type of thing, and it becomes a vicious cycle, a vicious cycle ... so what I think we need to do is to get people back to work and make a clean living ... and that in itself will bring self-worth back to people.

On the other hand, some fear that the new jobs and higher salaries will mean more money directed towards addictions. Like many issues raised by MCFN key informants participating in this study, this concern is not unique to the community but is part of a larger constellation of concerns shared by other First Nations contemplating negotiated agreements; for example, the Vuntut Gwitchin peoples opposed development in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge situated in Alaska, as they experienced first-hand the substance abuse issues associated with a previous oil boom (Slowey 2009). One key informant describes writing to De Beers proactively to negotiate an arrangement for interested workers who might have "addictions to alcohol or whatever.... As part of their [De Beers'] employee assistance program, we could provide assistance to employees that need it.... I followed up a few times and never ever got a response." Another key informant discussed what he perceived as the "mishandling" of money: "They say that money is the root of all evil. They've got the money now. They'd rather go have a beer and treat everyone else to last call than buy baby milk." Similarly, someone stated, "I know somebody personally who does not go home right away anymore. He comes out, has a big party, you know because now he has money.... Sometimes people if they have those kinds of addictions their family may not even be a priority." One key informant, however, expressed optimism: "Well, now that there's an increased income, people are spending it more. It's like a kid in a candy store. First time you get a good job like that your pockets are lined with money.... You're just spending, spending, spending. You're not really thinking, but it's starting to calm down. I think they're realizing what they're doing. Some have settled."

The impact and benefit agreement negotiated with De Beers was described by almost every key informant as having distinct negative social consequences for both Moosonee and MCFN. One of the principal concerns raised is that of family breakdown because of the two-week rotation schedule for remote employees. Interestingly, in Slowey's (2008) study involving economic development among the Mikisew Cree First Nation, Syncrude is reported as supporting a "fly-in/fly out" operation to promote community cohesion and the transfer of skills and dollars back to the community. In the MCFN study, however, key informants indicated, "There's marriage breakdowns because they're not used to being away from their families. As Native peoples we're close-knit peoples." One grandmother interviewed illustrated the impact of this schedule on her son and grandchildren: "It kind of affected him doing that, going in and out for two weeks because then he didn't have enough time with his kids." Many De Beers employees have also decided to move entirely "out of the community [south] to Timmins because they're flown in every two weeks and then flown out, because they have more privileges outside of the community than inside because they can travel more and they're not as isolated." This changes the social composition of the community: "For us, we lose. I'm looking at Moosonee. We lose more of the Aboriginal population while the non-Native population moves in. That's what I see. We lose the Aboriginal population as they move out." One effect of these migrations is the brain drain, the loss of technical skills, knowledge, and expertise: "I know with our organization we've lost a lot of potential staff because De Beers had probably something better to offer salary wise or just incentive wise.... A lot of the healthcare aides, clinic aides are translators ... we're kind of missing out on these key people in the community who can assist us on an everyday basis." This finding, though predicted with early impact and benefit agreements, is important but has not emerged in most of the relevant literature. Despite Thomas Berger's (1977) argument that individuals are fated to fail and communities are destined to fall apart under the weight of such disparate social, economic, and cultural forces, in the main, key informants expressed accounts that suggested greater resiliency. That is, familial and societal issues were raised but examples of community members and families "doing fine" with De Beers were also shared.

Of all the social issues raised in the course of this study, the problem of youth suicide is unquestionably the most unsettling. First Nations communities have suicide rates that are twice that of the general Canadian population and these have not changed appreciably since 1979 (Canada 2006; Laliberté and Tousignant 2009; Trovato 2000). Not all Aboriginal communities are overwhelmed by calamitous suicide rates, and discussions of Aboriginal suicide statistics from a national perspective can conceal the significant differences across communities. Unfortunately, however, the communities in this case study were experiencing a crisis: "We've had a number of suicides here, a few. I'm not even sure any more how many, seven maybe in 12 months ... more. We had one just two weeks ago. [Some tears.] Somebody's got to do something about it. Hello? We've got to try to stop this. It's got to get better than it is now. I believe that children are the best thing for the future." Many key informants look to economic development as one important factor in the reduction of youth suicides. One key informant explained, "I talk to the youth there and I tell them there's hope, there's a lot of opportunities [through De Beers]." Another key informant expressed how the decision to negotiate agreements with De Beers and Ontario Power Generation was largely motivated by concern for the youth: "This is our chance to stay in the community and get jobs.... It's just you know times are changing, we've got to look out for the youth. [We] figure for the youth, [we'll] go with it." Another informant also expressed concern for youth:

Well, what is the future? And we say, oh the future is in our youth, but it's got to be more than that, man. What are our young people going to be? What's the interest in well-being? We've got to go back to what the interest in well-being has always been, the resources that our people would get. Does that mean we go back to buckskin, beaver, and trap again? No, because if we did many of us would perish because it's different because we couldn't support ourselves.... They're nurturing you guys right now to prepare yourself to get into something, into business.... What our responsibility is as the adults is to create opportunities where you guys are going to have dividends.... What is that? It's in creating economies. And the only way we're going to create economies is to look to the natural resources we have and to get into partnerships with proponents who come into this area, and strike deals with them and say that we want a share in the resource development of this and we want to play a big role. That's the interest in young people we have, and that's what I see as being the new era that's going to come into play. And without that what do we have? We grind and we wallow in our past.

The strong resonance between this position and that articulated by the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (1996b), where economic development and negotiated participation in new economic opportunities are not only considered strongly desirable but also critical to securing a better future for Aboriginal peoples, is evident. Change is inevitable and economic change has occurred pre-European contact and throughout the contact period. The extent to which control over change is exercised largely influences how that change is experienced (Usher 1993; Berger 1977).

Negotiations and Meaningful Community Involvement

Negotiations

A tripartite relationship (labelled a partnership environment by Norm Hardisty Jr. [quoted in Ontario 2009]), involving Aboriginal community, corporate proponent, and the Crown, is typically sought for contemporary resource development. Impact and benefit agreements are usually negotiated between the corporate entity and the First Nation with government taking a backseat regulatory or observational role (Caine and Krogman 2010). Although these agreements provide an opportunity for Aboriginal communities to benefit from resource development, have input into the extent of environmental alteration, and in some measure counter effects of historical colonialism, their participation in dominant economic institutions none the less involves obvious inequalities (Bone 2009). One informant pointed out,

I think we're always at a disadvantage in that regard because of just how our own political system works and at the school level there. I mean you look at our First Nation and we always try to make an effort to have the best leadership that we can, but it doesn't always happen ... it's hard to find people that have those types of skills that allow them to be truly effective at that level. And that's not to belittle [anyone] but ... [we're] negotiating with OPG (Ontario Power Generation) [who have] a billion dollars of support and expertise behind them. And if that doesn't put us at a disadvantage, then what does?

The need to hire external professionals to assist with negotiations can be difficult as the space between dependence and autonomy narrows, and the spectre of paternalism and persistent colonialism can arise (Caine, Salomons, and Simmons 2007): "We had one lawyer from BC that has some experience but you're fighting uphill all the time," explained a key informant. "It's trying to put together the best with what you have. And it's really difficult to gather those resources to truly come away with a package that gives the best opportunities for your people and provides the best coordinated effort around building, resourcing, and those types of things." A closer examination of the power relations intrinsic to the impact and benefit agreement process raises important questions regarding interests served: for example, one key informant describing the Ontario Power Generation agreement complained, "They've indemnified Hydro of any wrongdoings, both past, current and the future ... so I went to the Chief and I said, why? In a partnership you share liability. Why are you absolving them of, first of all liability, why are you indemnifying them of all past grievances, future grievances and current grievances? What kind of partner are you?"

The impact and benefit agreement with De Beers evidences a similar power imbalance. Because the Victor diamond mine is located closest to Attawapiskat First Nation and within Attawapiskat traditional territory, De Beers largely excluded MCFN and the two other coastal communities from their comprehensive assessment (Canada 2004). The Attawapiskat First Nation chose to act independently and negotiate an impact and benefit agreement with De Beers despite the company's failure to consider the other First Nations comprising the Mushkegowuk Council. Each of the other three coastal First Nations then had to negotiate its own agreement with De Beers separately, and this only after a 2006 blockade of the winter road. Several key informants indicated that the impact and benefit agreement with Kashechewan First Nation came only after a road block that threatened to delay Victor mining operations seriously. The failure of members of the Mushkegowuk Council to present a united front is a key finding, a phenomenon that was distressing to a few key informants:

As Aboriginal politicians we always speak to our membership to say we're talking as one people, one people. We're always taking care of our lands, our harvesting, keeping our Treaty rights and stuff. One thing I noticed when it came time for money, everybody created their own impact agreements. I want to benefit. I want to benefit. Not once did these communities think, "How can we benefit the community?" Not individuals, membership, but communities. And I think that's what was lost at the beginning of these impact agreements. "How can we benefit our communities?"

The Mushkegowuk Council, in response to this political fragmentation, passed a number of resolutions pertaining to resource development, most notably one stating that the First Nations comprising the council will work together "for the purpose of creating a common front and to strengthen our positions in dealing with external land and resource developers including the provincial and federal government" (Mushkegowuk Council 2006, 2).

Meaningful Community Involvement

The participatory machinery for community economic development in Aboriginal communities, perhaps more than elsewhere, can be used as a diversionary practice to support government and corporate interests (Caine, Salomons, and Simmons 2007) and to accelerate the rate at which major developments proceed (Bielawski 2003). Successful community decision-making and planning requires formal opportunities for members to provide meaningful input so that defined aspirations can be realized and the project outcomes receive community endorsement (Webler, Tuler, and Krueger 2001). Numerous key informants expressed concern that what they thought of as the consultation process was limited. A distinction should be drawn here between the consultative process that flows from the duty to consult and the community ratification process. It is not the former to which the respondents were speaking; rather, they were referring to the process by which the First Nation's leadership sought community approval for the negotiated agreement. This conflation of terms reflects the underlying disjuncture between the world views of Aboriginal and Western societies, the former being more collectivist and the latter being more individualistic and hierarchical: "They [Chief-and-Council and DeBeers representatives] had a number of sessions with the communities. They had membership meetings with the youth, membership meetings with the women, the men, and mixed, that type of stuff," but according to several key informants few people attended. Those members who did attend often did not understand what was being presented and there was little opportunity for reciprocal dialogue: "They don't understand from the meetings the meaning of what De Beers is trying to do because it's either not being explained properly or it's misinterpreted somehow ... you can have a hundred meetings, but if no one understands what you're talking about or doesn't have a means of measuring it against something else, it's hard for anybody to put it into perspective." While only summaries of information documents were translated into Cree (Whitelaw, McCarthy, and Tsuji 2009), perhaps more importantly participants expected to have meaningful discourse and a chance to voice concerns. Instead key informants describe experiencing something more akin to a promotional event:

They [De Beers] were talking about the prospect of gaining employment, businesses being able to you know ... submitting contracts or getting the contracts for local people. I looked at the document and it's all black and white except the centre which is nice, bright yellow and it talks about millions and billions of dollars, and I said I wonder who drafted this thing because every time I throw it to the floor it opens where the money is. And everybody started laughing, right? Because it was true. You could take the document and throw it across the room and it opened where the money was, right. And I said, I think it's purposely designed that way ... people look at the money and they go, Oh!!!

Community members were also disturbed by the perceived lack of sincerity in the "consultation" process. The most poignant example of insincerity involved a contested airport. The elders in Attawapiskat did not want an airport because it would scare the caribou away. A key informant described how De Beers had originally agreed but through some unknown process the issue was ignored: "They had this map. And there was this strip right there. Now it's there [the airport] ... now I know last year they didn't get that much caribou. The game ... it has moved. The herd has moved. It took another route, and now they have to find that route." Stories of this kind led several key informants to use the term "corruption" to illustrate, broadly, sentiments about the political and economic climate since the two negotiated impact and benefit agreements. Without a transparent process, the tendency to speculate and feel co-opted is considerable (Stewart and Sinclair 2007).

We need to do a lot to become transparent with government and to demonstrate to people that yes, this is working. And I've seen it in other communities that people will say, How come De Beers is making all this money, getting rich, while our First Nation isn't? People can't see it, yet I know that people are getting money. And people know they're getting money, but people don't know where it's going, and what happens. It creates havoc. People are saying, "What the hell is going on here?"

True stakeholder engagement and value creation for all relevant parties is central to establishing a shared purpose and competently addressing the complex issues posed by resource development (Krick et al. 2005). Instead, respondents' views on the consultation process suggest it was lacking mutual respect, dialogue, and meaningful collaboration, which undermines community buy-in and risks neo-colonialism, the reinscribing of the colonial relationship in putative postcolonial times.

Corporate Social Responsibility, Capacity Building, and Social Capital

In the context of Aboriginal-corporate relationships, corporate social responsibility is now, to some extent, mandatory, because of the Crown's fiduciary responsibility, the obligation to complete environmental impact assessments, and the duty to consult (INAC 2009). History has shown, however, the Canadian government's fiduciary relationship to Aboriginal peoples to be disconcerting, engendering oppression and marginalization, despite professed goals (Shewell 2004; Miller 2000). Over half the key informants interviewed expressed a wish for greater corporate social responsibility in the form of corporate donations, strategic philanthropy, and engaged assistance with capacity building. Key informant comments regarding corporate social responsibility pertain to De Beers because, although the impact and benefit agreement with Ontario Power Generation was negotiated, the project was not underway at the time of this study.

Key informants in this study expressed a desire for the proponent to demonstrate a genuine interest in community wellness and a commitment to a collaborative process based on true mutuality (see, for example, Tsoi 2010; Mubangizi 2003): "All they want to do is ... conventionalism. Just good enough to do the job is my interpretation of that. That's Indian Affairs: conventionalism." Several key informants reported that protestors from Attawapiskat First Nation blocked the winter road to the Victor mine in February 2009 because they believed the community was not fully benefitting from operations in their territory. Given community members did not utilize a negotiated conflict resolution mechanism but instead set up a roadblock, the authors speculate that members lacked legal recourse, had no faith in the legal system, or perceived this action to be the most effective. Generally key informants who discussed corporate social responsibility wanted to see De Beers "giving back" to the community. All of their ideas can be framed as social capital concernsa wish for interrelated networking activities and increased non-profit support to enhance health and social exchange (Berry 2009; Osterling 2007). One respondent said she would like to see De Beers "helping out with the community ... housing is an issue, schools are an issue. I don't see that happening." Another person explained, "I'd really like to see them give more to non-profit organizations. That's what I'd like to see, but they won't. I've already asked. I'd like to see a shelter for our young guys that are on the streets. There's a real need for that." Although there is "a little section in the agreement that says that they would from time to time fund what they call emerging programs for strengthening culture," one key informant explained, "it's really difficult to access that funding."

While several key informants discussed limited training opportunities for MCFN members willing to travel south of the reserve to complete a "six-week training program" which made them "eligible to drive the trucks" and "operate heavy machinery," others spoke of their disappointment resulting from out-of-reach employment prospects. The four impact and benefit agreements negotiated with De Beers grant First Nation members "first kick at the can" with respect to employment; however, key informants reported that criminal records and lack of education (job postings we saw required a minimum grade 12) and qualifications were proving prohibitive: "There are opportunities ... if you qualify for the jobs, but then when you look at the jobs a lot of them are unionized so you have to have the skills and qualifications." Sadly, the disparity between labour market needs and existing skills of Aboriginal peoples was identified 15 years ago as a barrier to participating more fully in the Canadian economy (RCAP 1996b), but a strategy to ensure education and training for the greatest possible number of MCFN community members was not sufficiently addressed in negotiations. One key informant spoke of the performance "pressure" the community feels from the "company saying, we've got this agreement; we're offering you jobs; but you haven't produced the people we wanted with the qualifications. And off the project goes, while everybody's sitting on their hands." Some described a perceived discrimination: "It's not uncommon that despite the readiness of First Nation peoples, whether they actually get the jobs or not, there's always some seeming loophole that denies them opportunity, despite partnership agreements, and despite all these well-intended agreements around making them full and equal partners in economic development."

Corporate community involvement through impact and benefit agreements in Aboriginal communities, which are often economically and socially vulnerable, calls for engaged capacity-building hinging on the First Nation's identified gaps and goals (Tsey et al. 2009; Morrissey 2006; Corbin and Miller 2009; Chino and DeBruyn 2006). It appears that this level of community-led corporate social responsibility was not achieved in the present context.

Environmental Concerns and Cultural Relevance

It is not surprising that environment and culture would emerge from Aboriginal respondents as two intertwined and inseparable dimensions (King 2003; Turner 2006). As James Youngblood Henderson explains, "Ecological forces have always been the source of the most important lessons of Aboriginal thought and life" (2000, 256). This theme is unquestionably the most complex in this study as key informants expressed multi-layered and exceptionally nuanced thoughts about the relationship among development, environment, and culture, sometimes stretching concepts between two seemingly disparate ideological poles that underscore the uneasy tension between employment and the environment, sometimes simultaneously holding contradictory positions. For example, one key informant spoke enthusiastically about De Beers, saying, "I think it's a very good thing ... a really good idea. In fact I encourage young people to apply for a job at De Beers"; but when considering the environment, this same respondent said, "I'm disappointed with De Beers to tell you the truth. I'm disappointed that so much is happening there to destroy the land. I wish they would have just left the land alone." This response neatly summarizes the job-versus-the-environment debate that Richard White (1995) so deftly debunked. As White suggests, choices are never this simple and work conceptualized as destructive, such as mining, may be simultaneously restorative or salubrious with respect to other determinants.

The interest in negotiating impact and benefit agreements in both Moosonee and MCFN, however tentative, stems from the perceived potential to alter existing social and economic conditions dramatically. Land in these communities is both the location and source of culture, and simultaneously the foundation upon which the economy can be remade in this era of global enterprise (Anderson, Dana, and Dana 2006). Limited environmental policy and program direction on the part of the Canadian government disadvantages Aboriginal peoples in the tripartite development arrangement (Lane 2005; Baker and McLelland 2003; Fidler and Hitch 2007). Each assessment must be conducted on a case-specific basis to accommodate the unique ecology of place. In this process, it is not uncommon for proponents to interpret environmental impact assessment guidelines in a manner that excludes local ecological knowledge that Aboriginal peoples possess and limits the scope of the assessment conducted (Mulvihill and Baker 2001). In the case of the Victor diamond mine, "the assessment was restrictive rather than broad" (Whitelaw, McCarthy, and Tsuji 2009, 210). As well, Aboriginal peoples are often not consulted by the proponent until the environmental impact assessment is well underway, long after mineral prospecting has occurred. Failure to engage Aboriginal peoples early in all aspects of mine development flouts the more socially responsible practice of transparent negotiation and satisfying intercultural collaboration (Fidler 2010). One informant described this failure: "I was out on a creek with one of my friends and we saw this chopper flying around ... and it flew back and forth for about three, four hours. A lot of those things happen within our area. People come in. They check it out. And if it's worth going in then they go in there. They stake claim and do what they're going to do."

Key informants naturally viewed the flawed negotiation processes as an improvement on the past when there was no negotiation at all (Tsuji et al. 2006). None the less, concerns about the process and consequences of development remain. A few key informants discussed witnessing increased cancer rates: "And I don't know if it has to do with the water or the animals being eaten that's contaminated from the land," one commented. Another key informant mentioned PCB exposure and increased cancer incidence. The often-unforeseen complexities and messiness of environmental change resulting from resource development necessitate that one key informant's description of the Victor diamond mine as "relatively clean" be set against the contrary perspective that "there are no clean diamonds.... This region is part of one of the largest, intact wilderness areas left on earth and currently has no industrial development.... This wilderness supports abundant wildlife, including threatened woodland caribou, healthy fisheries, clean and plentiful water, and sustains the traditional activities of First Nations" (Mining Watch Canada 2006).

Respondents all expressed the importance of resource development to secure a future for the youth, but also emphasized was the need to be vigilant to safeguard, as much as possible, the land that is so central to Aboriginal identity: "There's a cost that's involved in development. There is an environmental cost. You have to be careful. You have to be watchful. You have to try to minimize the impact, but you know you've just got to bite the bullet and move on." Part of being careful includes not only closely monitoring toxic chemical containment but also giving other species due consideration, which was incorporated, to some degree, into the impact and benefit agreement with De Beers: "They were laying their line going to the swamp and one of the guys ... noticed ... a mallard duck nest with six eggs in it. They completely stopped the entire operation. They stopped it dead in its tracks. They said they wouldn't move it for six weeks. And they let that nest, let that bird hatch the eggs off and then we'll go. I was very impressed." Another cultural "benefit" is that "harvesters funding" was negotiated in the agreement with De Beers "and our First Nation has designated all those funds to be used for harvesters.... This is the first time that we're seeing an actual benefit, direct benefit to the members. They get subsidized to go out hunting."

These positive cultural aspects aside, most key informants remained largely uncomfortable with the impact and benefit agreements on cultural grounds, which they saw as having "zero" cultural relevance. Many had concerns about being able to pass traditional knowledge and cultural practices on to their children because of the increasing degradation to their traditional lands. One key informant lamented that the environmental impacts "will last for as long as I'm probably alive and long after my kids are here. They'll probably feel more of the impact when they get older." Concern about destruction of the land and diminished opportunities for traditional pursuits and knowledge transmission is related to "destruction of the telos," a concept eloquently articulated by Jonathan Lear (2006), that has significant ramifications for the construction of an idea of the good life, the context in which one performs quotidian activities and creates and experiences meaning-making. Another key informant emphasized the importance of the land to individual and collective identity, describing the marked difference between the way people engage in the community versus "the way we react to each other out on the land ... [it's] night and day.... It's the environment and the environment and the community that really dictates who you are to a large degree, dictates how you interact with one another." The concept of ethnostress, a term used by Diane Hill (1992) to describe the bio-psycho-social-spiritual fallout of colonial practices, was introduced by one key informant to capture the multi-level impact of historical and persistent colonial forces. The hope is that the benefits issuing from the agreements will outweigh any negative impacts, but with a potential road south opening a formerly remote community up to greater access and lands being altered with results yet unknown, key informants found it difficult to decide whether they thought the developments were ultimately positive or not:

I've heard two different sides to that. There's some younger that don't want it because they want to remain traditional. And then there's the others that say, no, times are changing, we're not going to get jobs unless we go south. This is our chance to stay in the community and get jobs. And I've heard some older people say the same thing. It's time to move on. The fight's not done. It's just you know times are changing, we've got to look out for the youth ... so they figure for the youth, they'll go with it, but some do want to hang on to it. I don't blame them.

Some key informants believed when the extractive lifespan of the mine expires, the full reality of the boom and bust (a phenomenon discussed by Slowey [2009], Usher [1993], and Berger [1977]) would be felt, as jobs would disappear, acquired skills would be valueless, and all that would remain is "a big hole in the ground." Others were more optimistic, seeing learned skills as transferable to other work settings in general and to other mine sites in particular (for example, the so-called ring of fire). As complex, unsettling, and difficult a decision it was for MCFN to choose to negotiate impact and benefit agreements with De Beers and Ontario Power Generation, and to participate in agreements sanctioning corporate-style resource development on traditional lands, one key informant best stated what seemed to be the overriding, if qualified, ethos of the sample interviewed: "Well, doing nothing is no alternative.... Saying no to resource development is not an option.... Life is like a parade. You're either part of the parade or you're watching it go by."

Discussion

Negotiated agreements in the form of impact and benefit agreements are the process most often used by Aboriginal communities engaging with corporations in an effort to gain economic independence, greater self-determination, alleviation of social ills, and the prospect of a brighter future. Viewed through a colonial lens, the long history of discursive framing of Aboriginal peoples exposes a complex layering of power practices, cultural assumptions, and inequities that inevitably characterize the First Nation-corporation negotiation process. Since the early nineteenth century when Aboriginal peoples were being increasingly marginalized by cultural, economic, political, and geo-regional change (Miller 2000) until the contemporary "mineral rush" in various treaty areas, they have been largely overlooked or treated insensitively by developers and economists (Kuhn and Sweetman 2002). Diminished lands and a reduced ability to practise the more traditional pursuits of their mixed resource-based economy contributed to a systemic reliance on social transfers for many Aboriginal groups (Richmond et al. 2005). Lower education levels and a constellation of other community and social issues resulting from colonial policies and practices have marginalized Aboriginal peoples in the labour market, leading to a greater number of non-standard or precarious employment opportunities and higher unemployment rates (Luffman and Sussman 2007; Alcantara 2007). In the past few decades, since the ongoing development of a theory of Aboriginal title and rights by the Supreme Court of Canada combined with negotiated agreements following mineral discoveries, this pattern has begun to change. The Supreme Court's decisions in Calder, Sparrow, and Delgamuukw have forced the inclusion of Aboriginal voices in the discourse on economic development in traditional territories. Now, local Aboriginal governments are exercising this recently recognized power and are seizing the opportunity to be key players in northern resource development.

Through key informant interviews this study sought to gain an understanding of the impacts of negotiated Aboriginal-corporate agreements with De Beers and Ontario Power Generation on First Nations peoples living in MCFN and Moosonee, two communities on the banks of the Moose River. Because of the different stages of project development, much of the information shared by key informants is relevant to the impact of De Beers's Victor diamond mine, which is projected to have an operational life of approximately 12 years, and environmental and social impacts that may endure for generations. From the analysis, several common themes emerged where respondents' concerns, values, and aspirations overlapped, producing a plurivocal narrative of near unanimity. Despite a variety of apprehensions, such as potential cultural and environmental losses, most key informants viewed the economic developments as a necessity, their position representing a kind of microcosm of the community electorate that voted strongly in favour of the impact and benefit agreements. The concern raised by several key informants regarding the lack of transparency referred both to processes of De Beers and community governance. Rather than being informed by De Beers of the costs and benefits of the enterprise, key informants described a series of community information meetings designed more to cajole than enlighten. Several key informants experienced this as an act of bad faith, as falling short of a truly dialogic process and signalling a questionable commitment not only to the integrity of the consultative process but also to the welfare of MCFN members generally. Among those interviewed, there was no forgetting the paroxysmal delight imperial, colonial, mercantile, and capitalist profiteers have gained from the Mushkegowuk territory. The matter of deficient transparency within the community with respect to allocation of funds is perhaps best understood as an issue of how power circulates through these negotiated agreements and benefits accrue to certain groups or members, creating or exacerbating differences between members. This in many respects results from the extent to which governance structures reproduce the neo-liberal order and class structure of the wider Canadian society rather than Indigenous approaches to governance.

While De Beers offers a two-week rotation work shift, which allows employees to be with their families for half the month, and negotiated harvesting days with MCFN so that employees could engage in traditional pursuits such as hunting and fishing, for key informants this represents a minimum. The failure on the part of De Beers to adopt and implement a proactive approach to ensure company employee demographics mirror those of the territory met with censure. While corporate social responsibility holds the promise of promoting social innovation, it contains the shortcoming inherent in market capitalism where companies behave in socially responsible ways only if it is in their interest to do so. By creating job opportunities in the region but not promoting or participating in capacity building, De Beers subscribed to that notion of liberalism that hypothetically purports equal opportunity to be a sufficient starting point for anyone despite historical injustices suffered by Aboriginal peoples that have led to their marginalization in the marketplace and extreme inequalities of outcome between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Canadians. Given De Beers' history of unconscionable labour and security practices, its role in apartheid in South Africa (see Roberts 2003; Parker and Mokhesi-Parker 1998), its unabashed racialized capitalism (see Louw 2004), and the way racism underscores business operations and practices (see Wolpe 1990), this finding is not surprising.

The growing use of impact and benefit agreements to formalize community-corporate relationships indicates a departure from historic northern development practices where resource extraction occurred without consultation. With the Supreme Court's acknowledgement of Aboriginal rights and title, and its imposition of a substantive duty to consult Aboriginal groups upon the federal and provincial governments, this approach is no longer tenable. Though impact and benefit agreements are case-specific, often the three key purposes are to ensure Aboriginal communities experience opportunities and benefits, to address social and environmental risk factors associated with resource development (Fidler and Hitch 2007), and to fulfill the duty to consult Aboriginal peoples. Key informants in this study identified several barriers to putative opportunities, such as social challenges, lack of preparedness, insufficient levels of educational attainment, discrimination, ethnostress, and the need for capacity building. Many also believed that adverse social and environmental risk factors could have been better addressed through more stringent negotiations (e.g., not indemnifying Ontario Power Generation, increased corporate social responsibility, more opportunity for meaningful community participation in the process, and earlier involvement of Aboriginal representatives in the entire process, from prospecting through environmental assessment to the agreement). Although one of the promises impact and benefit agreements hold is the promotion of sustainable resource development practices, it is only through a more democratic process based on respectful engagement, inclusive decision-making, and a commitment to thorough, responsible assessments that this will be achieved (Fidler and Hitch 2009). It is true that Aboriginal peoples have to some extent successfully negotiated agreements with big industry in this era of neo-liberalism and global capitalism, but because corporate influence still dominates the dialectic of outside-inside interests, the question of social justice remains, notwithstanding new opportunities for autonomy and self-governance (Caine and Krogman 2010).

In so far as it can be ascertained from the study findings, the degree of commitment to the new economic mining and hydro developments is matched only by the simultaneous trepidation felt by key informants. The key informant accounts addressing environmental concerns reveal a perceptible absence of adroit criticism and politicized issues, and present instead a pensive, solicitous tone. Without romanticizing their formerly self-reliant economies and traditional technologies, key informants pondered whether non-economic, cultural values were being ignored in the quest for development and renewed economic resiliency, and if so, at what cost to their continued collective identity. Issues of culture, environment, and community wellness were of considerable concern to the key informants interviewed. After carefully reflecting on and weighing all factors, however, most key informants (14 of 17) were none the less in favour of the negotiated agreements.

The forebears of the James Bay region peoples made informed decisions to adopt new technologies selectively or engage deliberately in mercantilism, developing hybrid economies, to meet material and social goals. The choice to enter the global economy is not an entirely new proposition for the peoples of the Hudson Bay muskeg: they traded at the Hudson's Bay Company outpost in Moose Factory for hundreds of years after the fort was established in 1673. Negotiating resource-sharing agreements with multi-billion dollar international mining companies, however, occurs at a different order of magnitude than negotiating prices on bundles of fur pelts. It would be a serious error to overlook the significant power differential between the two parties. If MCFN members are truly desirous of improving their opportunities, then they must question how the power differential impacted the community's decision-making process. Gordon Christie (2006) provides a compelling description of the options facing First Nations communities: it is like being powerless to stop invaders from pillaging your house who eventually offer you the opportunity to share in the spoils in order to stave off starvation. Industrial development of this nature may not conform to traditional Aboriginal land-use practices, but given the intergenerational socio-economic challenges northern Aboriginal communities face, can these communities afford not to participate? It is a question only they can answer. While First Nations economic development does not necessarily require being subject to impact and benefit agreements, given the persistent colonialist regime, remote communities have few alternatives. In order for First Nations to become truly masters of their own house, the Aboriginal-Canadian relationship needs to be radically reconfigured and decolonized (Alfred 1999; Turner 2006). Were this to occur, First Nations would be in a position to ensure that resource development would lead to benefits accruing entirely to themselves and their community.

We must place these resourceor revenue-sharing agreements in the context of self-determination aims. In the face of misgivings about these agreements, these imperfect tools of reconciliation, the community chose to embark upon a new and uncertain path towards self-determination in the hope of a brighter future. A large part of this hope connects to hopes for youth, the young people under 30 years old. Because this was central to all stated arguments for new resource development, further study involving youth voices is warranted.

While the exploratory nature of this study prohibits definitive conclusions and raises more questions than it answers, the difficult relationship between the Crown, corporate interests, and Aboriginal groups is clear. If Canada as a nation genuinely desires to rectify past injustices, then it needs to be careful to avoid sanctioning continued inequitable practices disguised as "partnerships" promoting economic development and community enhancement. The authors agree with the many people in this study who view land rights, evolving legislation, and surface and subsurface resources as an important means to transform current socio-economic conditions and end government dependency in MCFN and other Aboriginal communities. We also believe, given the significant deficiencies of the tripartite Crown-proponent-stakeholder relationship, that the growing interest in resource extraction in the North demands considerable legal, political, governmental, activist, and participatory research attention if social and environmental justice aims are to be achieved.