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It's great that Environment and Natural Resources Minister Michael Miltenberger has made dealing with water quality issues part of his game plan, but he needs to employ a more aggressive strategy.

Oilsands development in Alberta may be a boon for that province, but Northerners are worried about the effects flowing downstream. <

NWT residents are growing increasingly concerned about water quality, as evidenced by the attendance of Northern leaders, including Miltenberger, at a recent water conference in Fort Chipewyan, Alta. A similar conference is planned for this week in Fort Good Hope.

Despite this growing concern, Miltenberger has apparently rejected ideas such as court action or a royal commission for addressing water issues, and perhaps he's right to do so. Such efforts would inevitably suck up a great deal of time and funds from public coffers before accomplishing anything.

But his current strategy isn't exactly a resounding success, either.

Miltenberger has said the Mackenzie River Basin Transboundary Water Master Agreement signed in 1997 by the federal government, the NWT, the Yukon, B.C., Alberta and Saskatchewan, is the best way for the territory to deal with water issues. That document calls for bilateral agreements between the signatories.

But the thing is, 11 years later, that agreement still hasn't accomplished what it intended to do. The only bilateral agreement the NWT has reached is with the Yukon. Agreements with B.C., Saskatchewan, and perhaps most importantly, Alberta, have yet to be reached. In fact, Miltenberger acknowledged that the NWT has not yet begun formal talks with Alberta, although he's hoping an agreement will be reached by 2010.

That's pretty optimistic. Why would a strategy that has been unsuccessful for 11 years suddenly work now? Why would Alberta want to reach an agreement now - in a year when oil prices are over $100 a barrel and the province is forecasting a record $19.7 billion investment in its oilsands development - that could potentially have an effect on its booming energy industry?

For Miltenberger to stick to the same old strategy is like trying to bunt when there's two outs and you need a homerun to win the game.

The minister is also calling for increased funding for the Mackenzie River Basin Board, a body established in 1997 with guiding principles that include maintaining ecological integrity, sustainable water use, effective consultation, as well as management of water resources without doing "unreasonable harm" to the aquatic ecosystem.

The board's budget is $250,000, funded by all six signatories to the 1997 transboundary agreement. The NWT has upped its contribution to $40,000 from $25,000. But for a government that introduced a $1.36 billion budget this spring, $40,000 is pocket change.

The increase is a nice gesture, but it's surely not enough to convince Alberta and the other provinces that Miltenberger means business.

So it's time to recruit some ringers. The GNWT is not the only entity concerned about water quality in the Mackenzie River basin. Aboriginal governments and environmental lobby groups share that concern. Some of that muscle could really bulk up Miltenberger's bench -- so could the federal government.

This may be one instance where the fact the NWT has not yet achieved devolution could be played to advantage. Surely there must be some studies and monitoring of water levels by the Department of Fisheries and Oceans or Indian and Northern Affairs that could be used as leverage.

We need every tool at our disposal in this downriver battle.

Inuit have been poorly represented by their own elected leaders in the battle to have an Inuk named as a commissioner to the Residential School Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

Premier Paul Okalik has publicly uttered nary a word to get the attention of the federal decision-makers on this topic.

When questioned by Rankin Inlet North MLA Tagak Curley in the legislative assembly in May, Okalik gave a weak-kneed excuse about the commission not being the territory's responsibility. We don't have control over it so we should do nothing, is implicit in Okalik's message. How's that for leadership?

Mary Simon, president of Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, was actually part of the selection committee. She was unsuccessful in arguing in favour of an Inuk commissioner so she encouraged the commission to consider Inuit concerns in other ways. She should have used her clout to give this issue a much higher profile and she shouldn't have taken no for an answer.

Nunavut Tunngavik Inc. president Paul Kaludjak has had said little about Inuit representation.

And where has MP Nancy Karetak-Lindell been on this issue?

The collective lack of will among these so-called leaders is not advancing this cause whatsoever. They are complicit in their silence, accomplices in an unacceptable oversight that should have been corrected months ago.

It's been a host of other influential Nunavummiut who have come to the forefront to make the case.

Elder statesmen, many of them former politicians, like Jack Anawak, Peter Irniq, Marius Tungilik, Paul Quassa, Joe Krimmerdjuar, Tom Sammurtok and Kiviaq have stood tall in this campaign.

As some of them have argued, even the name Indian Residential Schools Truth and Reconciliation Commission sounds exclusionary. The federal government must change the name.

These elder statesmen understand that Inuit, who represent a large part of Canada's land mass, have a distinct culture, a unique language and experiences that make them much different from First Nations.

Justice Harry Laforme, head of the commission, and Chuck Strahl, minister of Indian and Northern Affairs, have both countered that a three-person commission will of course lead to some people feeling left out. That begs the question: what is preventing Strahl from adding a fourth or even a fifth commissioner?

There doesn't have to be a scandal whereby one of the established three appointees - all eminently qualified in their own right -- is removed and an Inuk inserted. The government is already planning to set up a 10-member committee of regional aboriginal representatives and to hire community liaisons, so there's some room for adjustments.

The commission is supposed to spend five years chronicling residential school stories from the very people who suffered a loss of identity and culture by being torn away from their families and in some cases being subjected to insidious forms of abuse.

This all happened because Inuit and First Nations people were not involved in the decision making. Inuit were issued numbers instead of names to be recorded in government records, a visible measure of racism by today's standards. That process has been acknowledged as unfair. It is history and can no longer be changed.

The composition of the commission, on the other hand, can be altered to be made just. Prime Minister Stephen Harper must make it happen.

I was sitting at my desk in Fort Simpson on Tuesday afternoon looking out my office window onto the main street racking my brain about how to best express this editorial when inspiration struck.

I was trying to decide how to write about the importance of volunteers, particularly members of volunteer fire departments, when the blast of a siren ripped through the air. The sound of the siren quickly faded away but a few seconds later the ambulance, with lights flashing, raced past my window clearly on the way to a call.

The chance timing clarified my jumbled thoughts and illustrated a salient point.

Members of volunteer fire departments and emergency services are easy to forget until you need them.

In day-to-day living most people don't think about their fellow residents who've made a commitment to help keep their community safe. It's often only when people are faced with a medical emergency or are looking at quickly growing flames that they start to wonder who's going to come and help them.

People who live in communities in the Deh Cho with vibrant volunteer fire departments are fortunate. When they reach for the phone to call for help they know that someone will be on their way quickly no matter what time of the day it is.

Fort Simpson is one of those fortunate communities. On Aug. 24 the volunteer fire department threw a surprise retirement party for one of its members, Ernie Loutit.

Loutit retired this summer after devoting 16 years to the department. Loutit said he felt comfortable leaving the department because he knew he younger members were ready to take his spot and have already been doing an excellent job.

Fort Simpson has been lucky to have a relatively steady stream of volunteers stepping up to fill the vacant positions on the department. Some communities in the Deh Cho don't have strong fire departments.

In communities like Fort Simpson it's easy to forget that volunteer firefighters aren't guaranteed. Members of the department give up their own time, which everyone knows there's never enough of, to be part of the team.

The firefighters also commit to carrying radios, waking up at all hours of the night and climbing out of their warm beds to answer calls. Their role certainly isn't the most glamorous or the easiest one.

If the ambulance returned while I was typing this I didn't notice because I was too focused on my computer monitor.

Maybe they carried someone who was seriously ill or injured to the health centre. Perhaps it was just a false alarm.

Either way, when someone picked up the phone and dialed for help, the ambulance started on its way. There's a level of comfort that comes with knowing this.

In the Deh Cho volunteers provide that safety net and their dedication shouldn't be overlooked.

We all feel alone and confused from time to time. It's a natural part of life to face hardships and not know where to go next.

Thankfully, we live in a community where we look after one another. This past weekend's workshop at Ingamo Hall was a perfect example of this.

When I first heard about the workshop, it sounded like a great idea - support group of women who have been through similar life experiences, sharing with each other.

Once the Sunday session had finished, I was able to speak with a few participants of the workshop.

Bringing all those people into one place and letting them express themselves was a great idea, because so many people left Ingamo Hall with a smile on their face.

The wisdom of those survivors of abuse and violence were able to get through to others in a comfortable environment.

I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, so I showed up as the meeting was winding down, but there were interesting points being made right until closing time, shortly after 7 p.m.

I also noticed the workshop was being filmed for a future documentary about the issues women in the region are facing.

It will be good to have those stories and accounts of life on file for future generations to see.

The video will also prove to be a great asset when looking for funding in the social sectors.

Nobody likes being a victim, yet there are many people around us who insist on making others feel bad with various types of abuse.

Even in my own life, I find myself using lower-calibre language, often vulgar and mostly offensive.

It's the way I was raised by a ship's cook. He was a sailor and taught me to cuss like one, too. Well, maybe I just picked it up from years of overheard conversations between old-timers.

Nevertheless, my upbringing does not excuse the kinds of behaviour that I display in public.

If I flip someone off, or speak to someone rudely, it's all on me and I most likely hurt someone's feelings.

If you take a look at yourself and see that you might be victimizing the people around you, it might be time to seek some help.

Abuse is a vicious cycle that doesn't know boundaries.

Fuelled by rage and ignorance, abuse comes in many forms and is never acceptable.

Victims of abuse are rarely victims for long. Some people look to vent on others, like parents who hit their kids.

Now, with that hate and anger passed on to another generation, that child passes it along to their friends and classmates.

Pretty soon, we're waist-deep in a pool of agony from compounded frustration, all because that family member wouldn't get help.

You hear a lot on TV about victims speaking out against their aggressors.

The main argument I hear about abusers is that they are small people who need to get help.

While that is often true, there are people who don't even realize they are hurting those around them with their actions.

Once people in the region stand up, like those participants in this past Sunday's workshop, we can move past abuse and its hold on families in the North.

In small communities everywhere, sports are seen as a method to empower and build character and a path to greater things. Justly so.

Nunavut youth have wonderful opportunities to train in a number of athletic fields, and are succeeding impressively. Case in point: Team Nunavut's first place showing on the badminton court at the recent North American Indigenous Games.

But while it's an important avenue, it shouldn't be the only one, because one size doesn't always fit all. I happen to think there is a definite dearth of opportunities in Nunavut for young people to explore other things, like theatre, art and music.

There's often a perception that our over-burdened education system has enough on its plate with language instruction and staffing issues, without having to worry about music and art curriculum, too. I tend to agree, some days.

I have also gotten a sense that some people resent the implication that more attention to be turned to the arts. After all, this isn't Hollywood or Paris.

But we really don't have to look far to see where concrete opportunities can be had, with movies like The Snow Walker filmed in our backyard, and the industry burgeoning around Iglulik-based Isuma Productions.

Inuit artists are already renowned the world over for their printmaking, carving and beadwork, and throat singing has made a definite impression on the music industry.

There are more subtle reasons as well.

Arviat, for example, has enjoyed a successful music and theatre program for the past eight years. Teachers there report huge positive changes in their students in the course of putting together a production.

Once-shy teens demonstrate new confidence and boosted self-esteem. Families are brought into the school to watch their performances, tightening the community.

One recent graduate from John Arnalukjuak has just been accepted into a respected theatre production program at Toronto's Humber College. I don't think I'd be exaggerating if I said Jordan Konek is probably the first person from the region to be accepted into such a course, but he likely won't be the last.

What made the difference in Arviat, which now boasts a first-class theatre and lighting system? The difference is the will of staff and community members who happened to take an interest in the arts.

It's not just there either. For example, there's a guitar program starting up with the help of a teacher at Rankin Inlet's Maani Ulujuk Ilinniarvik, and wonderful fine arts in Baker Lake's schools.

The more choices young people have, the more likely they are to find something they are truly passionate about. It might not result in a career, but it could definitely empower, build character and lead to greater things.

I'm not saying we need less funding for sports, but I am saying we need increased funding for the arts.

- Darrell Greer, the regular editor of the Kivalliq News, returns in September