I did not realize how much of my thinking was shaped by the premise of survival and assimilation. When we landed in Canada, my parents gave me an anglicized name so that I would fit in. I started out in English as a Second Language programs, but slowly lost my ability to speak my native tongue – only now am I trying to relearn it. Still, I am one of the lucky ones. My privilege as a settler meant that I had the choice to integrate into this society and try to quietly advance within Canadian socio-economic institutions. I chose an undergraduate degree that was less demanding so that I could juggle three part-time jobs. Incidentally, my choice to study philosophy was deeply formative on my worldview, but now I wonder if it was just one more step in trying to assimilate into Western society.

As a student of the Anglo-American tradition and was taught to think of questions relating to law and morality through the lens of analytic philosophy. While the historical roots of this tradition are rooted in a Judeo-Christian worldview, more “modern” developments have secularized theories of law and divorce themselves from “natural law.” Such “legal positivists,” most notably HLA Hart, have conceptually separated law from morality. Others working within this Anglo-American tradition draw on a politically neutral form of morality to structure their theory of law, which found influence in the works of Ronald Dworkin; others still, like John Finnis, push for more controversial forms of morality being at the centre of thinking about the questions of “what is law.” All of these thinkers subscribe to the analytic method of deriving at truth through deduction, conceptual analysis, and the like. Let us call these “Western” approaches (granted, areas like critical theory and continental philosophy do not follow these methods yet are commonly placed under Western philosophy).

What is striking about Indigenous approaches to law is that law and morality appear to be a continuum. Western approaches understand law as having a distinct function from morality, so there is a conceptual starting point for thinking about law and another starting point for thinking about morality. The Western writers mentioned above dedicate their lives to looking at areas where they overlap and try to make sense of what the relationship between law and morality. The Indigenous approach is a more cohesive enterprise that collapses these sharp divides between law, morality, and metaphysics. It is this all-encompassing picture that I have trouble getting a handle on.

My education in Western philosophy taught me to breakdown the meaning of concepts and then apply them to syllogistic arguments of a single conclusion following from premises. This is not always appropriate to employ for Indigenous approaches to law. Leroy Little Bear notes the holistic and cyclical view of the world through Aboriginal philosophy. Trying to reconcile these views with Eurocentric values of objectivity, linear social organization, and reliance on static collective agreements leads to a fragmentation or “jagged” Aboriginal worldview. Indeed, as seen through the lens of Canadian history and current legality, Indigenous culture is only partially developed and preserved.

I am grateful for this critical eye towards Western approaches, especially to its subtle language and presuppositions. It has pushed me to try to learn about non-Western approaches that are more focused on the community and relational values. Western approaches promote the individual’s power for choice and self-determination, as well as their intrinsic dignity and rationality which must be piously guarded. This approach neglects the interdependence of people for their well-being – social attachments, like family or a community, are crucial to thrive and flourish. Ironically, this point was emphasized by Aristotle, a philosopher who is arguably the most influential Western thinker.

As we dive deeper into the nuances of international law and claims of genocide, I keep reflecting on the underlying tensions between worldviews. There is no doubt that the Western approach is the dominant power and the approach that is employed in the language of the laws, reasoning, and moral justifications. I think about what this approach neglects. The lacuna in Western approaches is interestingly at the forefront in Third World Approaches to International Law.

I want to conclude this reflection with a recent story. Despite my engrossment in being educated in Western approaches, I discovered that I carried one value that was not very Western: filial piety. This showed up in my discussions with my mentors, peers, and intimates around my career decisions. I was challenged by those around me to choose a path in law that I was passionate about, that made me happy, and that promoted my own self-actualization. It was difficult to explain why pragmatic considerations of finance were so important to me – my parents do not have their own retirement plan, that is, I am their retirement plan. I cannot afford to pick a career that I am passionate about at the cost of a small starting salary. Some have diagnosed this as a lack of a backbone, having “tiger” parents, or being to driven by money. Granted, I loathe business law. But after all that my parents have done for me, I can learn to like business law. My prioritization of finances as a symbol of gratitude to my parents is not pathological. Rather, I believe it is honorable and moral – although, self-doubt is still a daily occurrence.