Prime Minister Stephen Harper has apologized for the behaviour of previous Canadian governments on three occasions now: the Chinese head tax, Maher Arar, and residential schools. Others are, or will, also be seeking apologies, but none is more compelling - both morally and politically - than a small group of Inuit who were arbitrarily relocated half a century ago.
Last summer, Mr. Harper asserted that, "Canada has a choice when it comes to defending our sovereignty in the Arctic: either we use it or we lose it."
The statement prompted one Inuk to ask me: "What the hell is he talking about? We've been using it for thousands of years, and we're not going anywhere."
The anger is particularly intense in Canada's northernmost two communities. The Inuit call Resolute Bay "Qausuittuq," the place where the sun never sets, and Grise Fjord "Ausuittuq," the place where the ice never melts. These Inuktitut names reflect the fact that, historically, the Inuit did not live this far north.
The decision to relocate 17 families to the Queen Elizabeth Islands in 1953 and 1955 was motivated by concerns about possible Danish or American claims. The Inuit, identified by government officials by numbers rather than their names, were essentially treated as flagpoles.
They were subsequently utilized as a resident source of cheap labour for RCMP detachments, and for the Royal Canadian Air Force Base at Resolute Bay.
There was, to be fair, some talk about the need to relieve the overpopulation of Inukjuak, the source Inuit community in Northern Quebec. But if the interests of the Inuit were paramount, why move them more than 1,500 kilometres northward to a High Arctic desert that bore little resemblance to their home?
There were reasons why the Inuit hadn't lived this far north before. Resolute Bay is an expanse of frozen gravel swept by persistent and powerful winds. Even in June, a stroll along the shoreline left me wishing that I'd brought my parka along.
For the Inuit, it was like landing on the moon. Their traditional knowledge and hunting techniques were out of place, there was not enough snow to build igloos, and the total darkness from November to February was both unfamiliar and disabling.
Tuberculosis added to the misery. Those who survived the first few winters did so by scavenging for food from the Air Force dump, or bartering their bodies.
The survivors call themselves the "High Arctic exiles," and they include some of the Inuit's most influential leaders. John Amagoalik, the "Father of Nunavut," was five years old when he was relocated. So too was Martha Flaherty, who later became the president of Pauktuutit, the Inuit Women's Association. Senator Willie Adams, then a teenager, had the foresight to jump ship at Churchill.
In 1996, the Canadian government agreed to a $10-million compensation package. But it ignored the recommendations of three different bodies - the House of Commons Standing Committee on Aboriginal Affairs, Canadian Human Rights Commission, and Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples - and refused to apologize.
The refusal was described by Mr. Amagoalik as a "real slap in the face for us."
Although the agreement recognized the "pain, suffering and hardship," it also stated that "government officials of the time were acting with honourable intentions in what was perceived to be the best interests of the Inuit."
The Inuit who signed the 1996 agreement felt they were doing so under duress.
Their overriding concern was for the financial wellbeing of the elders who, after 40 years of waiting, were running out of time.
Much has happened in the past 12 years. Relations between the Inuit and the Canadian government have soured over failures to implement the 1993 Nunavut Land Claims Agreement, to address crises in housing, health and education, and to invest in basic infrastructure - such as a deep water port at Iqaluit and small craft harbours elsewhere.
At the same time, climate change and runaway oil prices have vaulted Arctic sovereignty to the top of Ottawa's economic, defence and diplomatic concerns. Mr. Harper has promised new ice-strengthened patrol vessels for the Navy and a polar icebreaker for the Coast Guard, and blocked the sale of Radarsat-2 - a satellite designed for mapping sea-ice and tracking oceangoing vessels.
Yet the Prime Minister has largely ignored the Inuit, which is a serious mistake indeed.
As the Canadian government recognized in the early 1950s, Inuit use and occupancy of the Arctic is central to Canada's sovereignty claims. With the exception of Hans Island - an insignificant speck of rock between Ellesmere Island and Greenland - no country contests Canada's title to the islands of the archipelago today.
It's the status of the Northwest Passage that is now at issue. As the ice melts, foreign shipping is increasing and Canada's claim to control the waterway has come under renewed scrutiny.
Canada's position rests on two pillars: so-called "straight baselines" that were drawn between the outer headlands of the archipelago in 1985, and millenniums of Inuit hunting, travelling and habitation on the sea-ice.
The second pillar was given constitutional status when the 1993 Nunavut Land Claims Agreement affirmed that "Canada's sovereignty over the waters of the Arctic archipelago is supported by Inuit use and occupancy." It also carries weight abroad, with the International Court of Justice having recognized (in a 1975 case concerning the Western Sahara) that nomadic peoples can acquire and transfer sovereignty rights.
But any argument based on a transfer of rights is weakened if the recipient fails to uphold the bargain, or to address other basic grievances held by the transferees.
The Inuit know the clock can't be turned back. They want to work with other Canadians to forge a better future. They seek to preserve the Arctic environment, protect our common sovereignty, and provide their children with a quality of life similar to our own.
But the Inuit also want respect. For a Prime Minister who cares about sovereignty, apologizing to the High Arctic exiles would be an excellent next step.
Michael Byers, Canada Research Chair in global politics and international law at the University of British Columbia, is serving as a consultant to the Senate Committee on Fisheries and Oceans as it conducts hearings across Nunavut.