The Metis "National Committee" barred the newly-appointed Lieutenant Governor from entering the territory and, after seizing Fort Garry, issued a "Declaration of the People of Rupert's Land and the Northwest," establishing a "provisional government" in Red River with Riel at its head. When a group of white settlers, prominent among them the surveyor Thomas Scott, tried to mount a counter-rebellion, Riel had them imprisoned; after a brief court martial, Scott was shot.

In 1884, after some years in a Quebec mental asylum and several more as an exile in the United States, Riel returned to take up the cause of the Metis in Saskatchewan, and, more broadly, his own personal mission as "the prophet of the New World." In March of 1885, Riel and his followers seized the church at Batoche. Once again they declared a provisional government, engaging Canadian forces through two months of fighting, before Riel finally surrendered.

That's two armed insurrections and two declarations of independence, with the consequent loss of hundreds of lives, not counting the quasi-judicial murder of Thomas Scott. Sounds like a pretty good definition of treason to me, which is the crime for which Riel was tried, convicted and hanged in 1885 – or more precisely, for "levying war upon Her Majesty." You can say that his cause was just, you can point out that the jury was all white, but the facts, alas, remain. He did what the Crown said he did, and what he did was a crime.

That's if you think that facts matter, or indeed, that there are such things as facts. If you are in politics, of course, you might have a professional aversion to the facts. And if you are a scholar, at least of the contemporary sort, you would snort in derision at the very mention of the word. Which makes all the stranger the alliance of politicians and scholars that has emerged in support of rehabilitating Riel, to the point of entrenching a new set of "facts" in law – a declaration of independence, if you like, from the truth. If the facts are only fiction, why believe one set any more than another?

Nevertheless, a private member's bill, originally the work of two Liberal backbenchers, has now attracted the sponsorship of members of all five federal parties. The proposed Louis Riel Act would not only set aside Riel's conviction, but honour him as a Father of Confederation, and the founder of Manitoba. A statue in his likeness would be erected outside Parliament (to go with those that stand outside the Manitoba and Saskatchewan legislatures). There would even be a Louis Riel Day, to be celebrated every July 15. Sir John A. Macdonald does not yet have a day named in his honour, but Riel will have his.

Perhaps we should celebrate, in these fevered times, the kind of tolerance that holds that a man's political views should not disqualify him from employment as a Father of Confederation. Maybe two attempts to overthrow the government by force are not enough. Maybe you should have to try a third time. At which point we would probably make you posthumous Prime Minister.

In any case, it won't be long before the bill becomes law. For what chance have mere facts before the twin powers of our age: cynicism and sentimentality? In truth – there's that word again – the bill has nothing to do with Louis Riel, his guilt or innocence. It is intended, rather, to establish three things. One: history is what you can get away with; all knowledge is political. What better way to confirm, once and for all, the supremacy of politics over truth than to pass a law proclaiming that night is day, black is white, and Louis Riel is a Father of Confederation.

Two: no one is to blame; everyone is at fault. The Hepatitis C controvery has given us the principle of no-fault compensation, even where there was no wrongdoing. The Riel bill would take us further down that road, to no-fault history. The facts might suggest that Riel was reponsible for the loss of many lives. But the sentimental world-view excludes such notions. Riel was not guilty. He was misunderstood.

Three: if anyone is at fault, it is probably Canada. We forget large swatches of our history, especially where these might contradict some convenient myths. We treasure only those which might be used in support of a particularist grievance, by which the part might indict the whole. Louis Riel is exonerated, a free man at the bar of history. It is only Canada that is convicted.