Towards an Architecture of Métis Resistance

In 1986, an award-winning interpretive centre opened at the Batoche National Historic Site in Saskatchewan. A central intent of the design, by renowned Winnipeg firm IKOY, was to “interpret the history of the Métis settlement,” yet their decision to shape the main gallery of the industrial-looking building after the hexagonal section of a rifle barrel pointed directly, and intentionally, at the church, is as jarring as their description of the project. (1) The site, they wrote, “has come to symbolize the Métis’ last stand as united people, the end of their independence, and the eventual closing of the Canadian frontier.” (2) Not only did the project explicitly ignore contemporary Métis political and cultural vibrancy in the area, which welcomes over 5000 people a day for the annual Back to Batoche Festival. The juxtaposition of the building confirms a complete disregard for its historical and material context.

But what is Métis architecture beyond log cabin nostalgia, anyways? What is unique about Métis buildings and what value do they have beyond their history? While various other indigenous vernacular typologies, such as the igloo, teepee, longhouse, and wigwam, are recognized in Canada, there is limited understanding of Métis customs related to buildings and infrastructure. Recreation halls, schools, housing projects, and various other structures built in Métis communities would seem to have minimal cultural impact, if at all.

There are several reasons to discuss Métis architecture. First, it allows architecture to be appreciated alongside other Métis cultural forms. Second, it encourages Métis community members and leaders, as well as architects and builders, to better interrogate future proposals for their invested responses to a specifically Métis cultural context. As Henry Glassie writes, the study of vernacular architecture “seeks ways to use buildings as evidence in order to tell better versions of the human story.” Following the recent Daniels case, which reaffirmed the Métis as “Indians” as per the Constitution Act, and amid ongoing debates about the very nature of Métis identity and registration across Canada, Métis architecture can contribute a chapter to the unfolding Métis story.

Métis Vernacular

The St. Laurent region is often solely linked to the 1885 conflict with the Canadian government at Batoche, but it also offers insights into distinctly Métis ways of building and living. Here, the Métis most clearly exhibited a distinct “conceptual order” of habitation as described in archeological research led by Simon Fraser University professor David Burley in the 1980s. Though originally interested in the Métis shift to a pastoral lifestyle that occurred in the region during the1870s, Burley’s work confirmed earlier studies suggesting that a Métis vernacular existed in the region, with significant implications for understanding “the concepts by which Métis ethnicity can be defined and identified.” (4) As Burley writes,

The unconscious rules of Métis behaviour conform to a conceptual order that, in its basic structure, is reproduced in day-to-day activities and in the built environment. This structure is “holistic,” integrating continuity in the culture/nature relationship, an unbounded and asymmetric perception of space and overriding concerns with egalitarian principles of social organization and consensus. (5)

Burley recognizes that “traits and styles” inevitably shift with time, but a spatial conceptual order that is “regulated by unconscious rules and principles” allows for wider interpretation and diachronic relevance. (6) While this holds immense promise for further architectural consideration, other essential observations by Burley, that the Métis “had adopted a predominantly European material culture by the mid-1800s,” and that construction of the folk homes had ceased by the 1930s, has arguably truncated subsequent studies into Métis material and tectonic distinctions. (7) Kenneth Frampton’s now seminal essay establishing “critical regionalism” as a polemical response to universalization in architecture cautioned against such assimilating “threats” to local cultures, laying out six points to address this “conflict” in order to “withstand the relentless onslaught of global modernization.” (8) His provocation to forge a “resistance” to cultural oppression in architecture resonates strongly with the history of the Métis who similarly view the 1885 Batoche uprising as a political “resistance” rather than a rebellion (as it is commonly labeled), identify as "the people who own themselves," and embrace the infinity symbol on their flag to assert "the existence of a people forever." (9) Thus, as is the case with all indigenous groups currently grappling with the impact of globalization, Burley’s research and current field studies offer a timely opportunity to interrogate the potential role of architecture in strengthening Métis cultural identity moving forward.

Egalitarianism

One of the primary spatial conditions that historically distinguished the Métis from other groups in the prairies emerged from their overriding emphasis on egalitarian principles of social organization and consensus. This was reflected in many facets of life. Socially, this is best illustrated by the historic buffalo hunts that took place on the Great Plains. Hunting formed the foundation of Métis society and structured their leadership, identity, and unity as a nation. The hunt was organized according to a fair and equal share of responsibilities and duties. Architecturally, this overarching emphasis on egalitarianism and social consensus influenced the layout of the earliest Métis settlements, the hivernant (wintering) camps. Formed through kinship ties and necessary for winter survival, the organization of the camps allowed each family group unrestricted access to the landscape contained therein. No concerns of hierarchy or social status affected the spatial location or orientation of structures, which were laid out according to the landscape features of each specific site.  For example, at the sprawling Four Mile Coulee and Chimney Coulee, cabins were spread out along a trail network, while constrained sights such as Pettite Ville and Kis-sis-away Tanner's Camp led to tighter nucleation.

Such a spatially equitable system persisted in the planning of the homesteads in the St. Laurent district as the Métis transitioned to a primarily agricultural lifestyle. The river lot system used by their ancestors at Red River (which had been adopted from the St. Lawrence in Quebec) was valuable because it allowed all community members equal access to both road and river. Burley observes that “the narrowness of the lots allowed for kinship and social relations to be maintained…[while the] River lots were alike and this reinforced Métis concepts of egalitarianism.” (10) Individual houses carried this into their interiors with open floor plans lacking partition walls and European concepts of privacy: “The interior of the house is commensurate with a lack of boundedness ... an environment in which Métis sense of communalism, consensualism and equity were pre-eminent.” (11)