EDITORIAL: The Dangerous Revisionism of OneBC’s Documentary

There are moments in public life when a politician or commentator wades so far into the deep end of conspiratorial thinking that it becomes a democratic obligation to pull the discussion back to reality.

Dallas Brodie's new "documentary," released under the banner of OneBC, is precisely one of those moments.

What presents itself as investigative correction is, in fact, an opinion-heavy polemic stitched together with shaky sources, leaps in logic, and a rhetorical strategy built on provoking fear rather than seeking truth.

The film repeatedly confuses speculation with fact, cherry-picks from flawed or context-starved studies, and leans heavily on the suggestion that entire Indigenous communities, courts, researchers, and even survivors themselves have conspired in silence or deceit.

A Narrative Built Backwards

The central device of Brodie's documentary is an insinuation—not a conclusion—that the 2021 ground-penetrating radar findings at the former Kamloops Indian Residential School were part of a vast and deliberate misrepresentation. The "documentary" shows this from the first minutes, framing the discovery of potential graves as “stories that could not be questioned” and “narratives manufactured to siphon wealth and power.”

But this setup relies on conflating two very different things: the legitimate caution scientists apply to early findings and the allegation of widespread fraud. GPR specialists themselves noted the limitations of the technology, explaining that anomalies must be confirmed through excavation—hardly the stuff of cover-ups. Yet the documentary leaps from this methodological truth to a sweeping, unsubstantiated conclusion that the “chance of bodies at Kamloops is somewhere around zero.”

That is not a deduction supported by evidence. It is an ideological assertion.

Meanwhile, Brodie downplays survivors' testimony—while paradoxically using clips of survivors to lend emotional gravitas to her argument. Survivors' accounts of children digging graves, of abuse, of missing classmates, are presented briefly but then dismissed outright when they conflict with the film's preferred narrative. It is a level of selectivity that would, in any other context, be recognized as disrespectful and manipulative.

Misrepresenting Indigenous Grief, Rewriting History

The most troubling feature of the documentary is its treatment of Indigenous communities. Rather than approaching Indigenous testimony with the seriousness it deserves, Brodie portrays First Nations leaders as either mistaken or opportunistic.

The Kamloops Chief, for instance, is accused of refusing excavation not for cultural or spiritual reasons—as Indigenous communities have articulated clearly—but because doing so would allegedly “discredit the entire movement” if the results didn't align with expectations .

This is an extraordinary claim. And like all extraordinary claims, it demands extraordinary evidence. Yet none is supplied. Instead, Brodie substitutes insinuation for proof, implying nefarious motives where there may simply be trauma-informed caution, cultural protocols, or distrust rooted in generations of state-imposed violence. It is hard to imagine a more dismissive posture toward communities who have suffered deeply.

Where the documentary becomes most disingenuous is in its attempt to downplay the well-documented, systemic harms of residential schools. While acknowledging some abuse occurred, the documentary works tirelessly to portray the broader residential school system as benign—at times even positive—through a curated selection of interviews with former staff or students who report favourable experiences.

These are genuine voices, yes, but they cannot bear the explanatory burden the documentary forces upon them. Evidence gathered over decades tells a far more complex story. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission collected more than 6,000 statements, and while the documentary repeatedly derides the TRC for not cross-examining witnesses, it ignores the historical context: survivors were, for generations, disbelieved or dismissed, and the TRC's mandate prioritized centring survivor voices. The documentary interprets this approach not as restorative justice but as methodological weakness—despite being unable to present a more reliable alternative.

The selective framing extends to health outcomes, where the film references studies suggesting residential school students were sometimes healthier than children on reserve. But it strips away the larger context: Indigenous poverty, forced displacement, chronic underfunding, and the federal government's refusal—well into the 20th century—to provide adequate health services. To use these data points as evidence that residential schools were protective rather than harmful is not just misleading; it is insulting to those who suffered.

A Political Project Masquerading as Inquiry

At its core, Brodie's documentary is less about truth and more about political positioning. Nearly every thread—Kamloops, UNDRIP, land acknowledgements, allegations of corruption in band governance—ultimately serves the same purpose: reinforcing OneBC's ideological argument that self-determination for Indigenous peoples is incompatible with a healthy, unified provincial identity.

The documentary implies repeatedly that reconciliation efforts form a “multi-billion dollar industry” filled with “profiteers” exploiting Canadian goodwill . This framing is echoed in the film's conclusion, where Brodie declares that Canada must “defund the reconciliation industry,” withdraw from UNDRIP, and repeal BC's implementation of Indigenous rights.

Above all, what makes this documentary so corrosive is its treatment of Indigenous trauma. To challenge specific details or processes of investigation is legitimate; disagreement is the lifeblood of a functioning democracy. But Brodie goes further and repeatedly implies that Indigenous grief is either manufactured, exaggerated, or financially motivated.

Even when survivors speak directly of abuse or loss, the film swiftly pivots back to its thesis: that the dominant narrative is false, that Canada has been unjustly indicted, that reconciliation has gone too far. Survivors' pain is not engaged with; it is instrumentalized. The effect is a documentary that does not merely question facts but erodes public respect for Indigenous testimony itself.

The Cost of This Fear-Mongering

In the current climate—when anti-Indigenous racism still surfaces regularly, when tensions around land rights and sovereignty remain potent—this documentary adds oxygen to fires that responsible leaders should be working to extinguish. By framing Indigenous rights as a threat rather than a constitutional reality, by portraying community leaders as corrupt actors seeking to overturn Canadian democracy, by dismissing survivor testimony with off-hand certainty, the documentary spreads distrust and division where nuance and humility are urgently required. In short, it does what reckless political narratives often do: it treats complexity as conspiracy and fear as fact.

Truth Requires More Than Certainty

Public service demands fidelity to evidence over ideology. This documentary reverses that obligation. It begins with its conclusion—residential school abuses overstated, Indigenous rights expansions dangerous—and hunts for fragments to support it. But truth does not fear scrutiny. What it should fear is distortion.

Indigenous communities deserve better than to have their histories flattened and their pain dismissed. Canadians deserve better than to be given political propaganda framed as investigative illumination. And reconciliation—still fragile, still incomplete—deserves better than this attempt to undermine its foundations through innuendo and selective storytelling.

In the end, Brodie has not uncovered a hidden truth. She has constructed a narrative designed to comfort those who find the reality of colonial harm too heavy to bear. But truth does not become less true when it is uncomfortable. And reconciliation does not become less necessary when someone tells you it is too costly.

This piece was written and published by the Left Lane Media Group Editorial Board and reflects the editorial position of The Provincial Times and Left Lane Media Group. Read our Content Policy here.