The controversy over coal-export railway terminals at Cherry Point near Lummi territory in Washington State has drawn the attention of the venerable Public Broadcasting System.
PBS Newshour broadcast a story on August 2 detailing the brewing battle, from tribal opposition to the reservations of health professionals concerned about the respiratory effects of both coal dust and diesel exhaust. The report starts and ends with input from Lummi fisher Jeremiah Julius, who articulates the nation’s concern about the destruction to habitat, air and tradition.
“The whole landscape is sacred to us,” Julius tells a reporter at the beginning of the segment. “There’s not much contaminant-free lands left in the United States. This is one of them.”
The segment aired the same day that the Lummi Nation sent a letter to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers formally registering the tribe’s opposition to the plan.
Washington State officials along with other partners are conducting an environmental review of the shipping terminal project, which would entail exporting 54 million metric tons annually of “bulk commodities,” including as much as 48 million metric tons of coal per year, the Washington Department of Ecology said in a statement on July 31.
The Bellingham Herald reported on August 1 that a firm stance against the project “could stop the federal permit process for the coal terminal dead in its tracks.” Officials from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers have said that if the tribe were to state in writing that there is no chance for an agreement with the company, SSA Marine, the federal agency would take that into account when evaluating federal permit applications.
“If the Lummis come to that position, it will make us reassess the direction we are going,” said Muffy Walker, the head of the Army Corps of Engineers’ regulatory branch in Seattle, at a press conference according to the newspaper. “We have denied permits in the past, based on tribal concerns.”
If Julius’s sentiments are typical, the Lummi Nation’s stance does not look likely to change.
“To me, these tankers are the trains that killed off the buffalo,” said Julius. “These tankers are going to kill my way of life. So to me, this is—it is a battle.”
The tables were turned on a former star of the reality show Mantracker, in which contestants become prey stalked by the series’ stars, when he was shot by Canadian police in Alberta on August 1 during a traffic stop.
Two Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) officers were being investigated by the Alberta Serious Incident Response Team after a run-in with Curtis Hallock, 38, an expert outdoorsman and horse whisperer of Grande Cache, the Edmonton Journalreported on August 3.
At about 10 p.m. on Thursday August 1, two RCMP officers pulled Hallock over “on suspicion that he was impaired,” the newspaper said. A confrontation of some sort ensued—police are not revealing details—and Hollock was shot, receiving two bullet wounds to a leg and one in the shoulder, his sister, Priscilla Bowen, told the Journal.
Though he fled on foot, he was apprehended and brought to the hospital, the newspaper said. Details were scant on what caused the confrontation, but Bowen was less concerned with that than with “how an unarmed man gets shot so many times by the police,” she told the Edmonton Journal.
This is a question being posed in Toronto as well, given the July 26 shooting of 18-year-old Sammy Yatim on an empty streetcar by metropolitan police. As with Yatim, Hallock has no history of violence. Indeed, as his biography on the Mantracker Season Two website notes, “grizzly bear encounters and raging river crossings on horseback” are more his speed.
“Curtis has lived off the land surrounding Grande Cache for his whole life,” the bio says. “He cares for a herd of horses that roam free in the area and he considers the rugged wilderness and dense bush his own backyard.”
Former colleagues described the Mantracker sidekick, one of several who played alongside star Terry Grant, as one of their favorites, with a gentle temperament.
“In the seven years that we produced Mantracker … he was the number one sidekick that everyone loved and adored from all the sidekicks we had,” Ihor Macijiwsky of Bonterra Productions told CTV News.
Hallock was scheduled to undergo surgery for his wounds over the weekend.
The first meeting of the White House Council on Native American Affairs took place July 29 without tribal leaders present.
The Council, established by President Barack Obama by executive order June 26, is intended to oversee and coordinate the progress of federal agencies on tribal programs and consultation with tribes across the federal government.
Tribal leaders have been asking Obama to establish such a workgroup since day one of his presidency. They generally support the idea of the current Council, which has roots in several other U.S. presidential administrations, but some have problems with its structure, saying it strikes them as odd that tribal representatives have not been invited to have a seat on the Council.
Instead, Department of the Interior Secretary Sally Jewell, appointed chair of the council by Obama, solicited tribal leaders’ input in a conference call held July 26, and this input helped guide the meeting, according to Interior officials.
The meeting was closed to the press and public. Pictures released by Interior showed many federal agency officials sitting around a square table looking at Jewell. Federal Indian employees, including Kevin Washburn, Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs; Yvette Roubideaux, director of the Indian Health Service; and Jodi Gillette, Senior Policy Advisor for Native American Affairs on the White House Domestic Policy Council, were there. Senior Advisor to the President Valerie Jarrett, White House Domestic Policy Director Cecilia Muñoz, Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack, Labor Secretary Thomas Perez, Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, Transportation Secretary Anthony Foxx, and Education Secretary Arne Duncan, were also present, according to Interior.
“For context, today’s meeting was a bit more organizational in nature—in order to get priorities in order,” said Jessica Kershaw, a spokeswoman for Interior, when asked if tribal leaders were in attendance.
“At the top of the meeting Secretary Jewell provided a summary of matters raised by tribal leaders in a conference call held on Friday and through written comments,” Kershaw said. “That call was meant to inform some of the priorities that the Council should be focused on as it gathered today to discuss how the federal family can best coordinate efforts to address these issues.”
Kershaw said the input from tribal leaders included: “job creation and economic development in tribal communities, honoring treaties and the federal trust relationship, strengthening tribal justice systems, the need for coordination and education on Affordable Care Act enrollment for Native Americans, expanded education opportunities for Native American youth, protection of sacred sites and natural resource development, addressing the challenges tribes are facing due to the sequester and shortfall in contract support costs, and that tribal leaders want to see the federal agencies working together to build on the previous accomplishments of the Obama administration.”
Tribal leaders also informed the administration that they want to meet in face-to-face, organized sessions with federal agency officials that are more intimate than the yearly White House Tribal Nations Conferences, where it has been difficult to hear a variety of tribal voices given the overwhelming size and structure of the events.
Being relegated to input via conference call did not sit well with some tribal leaders.
“That’s not a real government-to-government relationship,” said Tex Hall, chairman of the Three Affiliated Tribes, who believes that tribal leaders and citizens have been set up via this new federal bureaucracy to be “on the outside looking in.”
Hall has advocated for the creation of a Native American White House council based on the model established under President Lyndon B. Johnson that would make tribes actual members of the council and give the council strong budget powers over Indian affairs.
Derek Bailey, former chairman of the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians, said he does not trust federal policy makers to be able to accurately represent tribal views without tribal leaders in the room.
“I am not confident, from my experiences, that all federal bureaucrats will accurately represent concerns of the tribes to the White House Council,” Bailey said. “For tribal relations to truly rise to the next level with the U.S. government, having opportunities for engagement and meaningful dialogue is imperative, and I believe welcomed by most tribal leaders.”
It’s disheartening to Bailey that the Council is not providing tribal leaders with the opportunity to be heard in person, because he believes Obama’s intent in creating the group is to develop stronger working relationships between federal officials, agencies and tribal nations.
“[A]ny time tribal leaders can be included and rightfully given the opportunity to increase understanding and awareness of issues affecting Indian country, [it can] only help all involved,” Bailey said.
Interior officials are aware of the desires of tribal leaders, but they have not said how they will account for them.
Jewell, meanwhile, has not publicly addressed the controversy, saying in a statement that she believes the “meeting underscores President Obama’s commitment to build effective partnerships with American Indian and Alaska Native communities.”
As with other American Indian nations, people from the Tulalip tribes in western Washington–Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skykomish, and others—have served in the American military during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. One room in the Hibulb Cultural Center and Natural History Preserve honors the Tulalip veterans and tells many of their stories.
The drum shown above belongs to Raymond Moses who served in the Army during the Korean War from 1950-53. The drum depicts images of his guardian spirits; grizzly bears from his father’s side and wolf from his mother’s side. He had visions of his guardian spirits right before he stepped on a grenade that fortunately did not detonate.
While in the past, Indian veterans were denied the use of their traditional religions in dealing with post traumatic stress disorder, today this is not the case.
An ongoing series sponsored by the Native American Netroots team focusing on the current issues faced by American Indian Tribes and current solutions to those issues.
EVERETT — An undercover operation in Snohomish County by state fish and wildlife agents has netted two men with suspected ties to an international fish-poaching ring.
The men are accused of illegally selling caviar, steelhead and salmon. One of the men admitted to illegally “snagging” at least 100 pounds of steelhead, prosecutors said. The men were charged on Tuesday with unlawful trafficking of fish, a felony.
“It’s bad enough when they’re stealing by harvesting illegally. They’ve added to the egregiousness by then making a profit,” said Mike Cenci, a marine patrol captain with the state Department of Fish and Wildlife.
Agents say the men are believed to be connected to a fish-poaching ring that was operating out of several other states. Earlier this year, eight men were indicted in Missouri on federal charges for poaching and trafficking in American paddlefish and their eggs. More than 100 other people were arrested or cited for their part in illegally selling Missouri paddlefish to national and international caviar markets.
American paddlefish, also known as spoonbills, are native to the Mississippi River watershed. The prehistoric fish can live for decades, weigh up 160 pounds and reach seven feet long. Criminals sell eggs from the boneless fish as higher-quality caviar.
“Paddlefish are often sold under the guise of sturgeon,” Cenci said.
With a decline in the highly-sought-after and expensive sturgeon roe, paddlefish eggs have gained popularity. The increase in demand has led to a decline in the paddlefish population, according to federal fish and wildlife agents. Chinese paddlefish, once plentiful in the Yangtze River, are believed to be almost extinct.
Authorities allege that Igor Stepchuk, 38, of Lynnwood, sold an undercover agent five jars of American paddlefish eggs for $500. He also is accused of illegally selling steelhead, and coho and chinook salmon.
The state Department of Fish and Wildlife began investigating Stepchuk after receiving a tip in 2011 that he was trafficking illegal caviar. The agent met with Stepchuk numerous times. His friend Oleg Morozov, of Kent, also is accused of trafficking fish.
Stepchuk, a convicted felon, eventually offered to sell the agent steelhead, court papers said. He reportedly told the agent he had poached about 100 pounds of steelhead. It isn’t clear where he caught them. He reportedly showed the agent a freezer full of fish.
Non-tribal fishermen are banned from selling steelhead. Commercial and recreational salmon fishing also is heavily regulated.
Cenci said it’s also illegal to catch fish by snagging, which often means dragging a hook through the water and impaling the fish, rather than waiting for a fish to bite.
“It’s offensive to sportsmen and sportswomen. It’s a matter of ethics,” Cenci said.
The defendants reportedly went on to sell the undercover agent more than a dozen jars of caviar and more steelhead. In total, the men charged the agent more than $4,500 for the fish and eggs.
Detectives sent samples of the caviar and fish to the department’s molecular genetics laboratory to confirm the species. The lab is used primarily to help manage wildlife and fish resources, but enforcement agents use the facility to assist with criminal investigations. DNA testing was done, and the samples were consistent with steelhead and chinook and coho salmon, court records said.
“That kind of activity has a great impact when you’re dealing with endangered salmon runs,” Cenci said.
Bob Heirman, conservationist and longtime secretary-treasurer for the Snohomish Sportsmen’s Club, has been planting salmon and trout in Snohomish County for decades.
Poachers are “robbing resources while some people are trying to recover them,” Heirman said.
Stepchuk and Morozov are expected to answer to the charges later this month in Snohomish County Superior Court.
Unfortunately, the state’s fish and wildlife species often find their way to illegal national and international markets, Cenci said. “We’ve seen everything poached from roe to bear gallbladders,” he said.
He encourages seafood eaters to make sure they are buying from licensed and legitimate sellers. “If there aren’t people willing to buy (illegal products) the incentive to poach for profit goes away,” Cenci said.
Humanity’s difficulties dealing with climate change trace back to a simple fact: We are animals. Our cognitive and limbic systems were shaped by evolution to heed threats and rewards close by, involving faces and teeth. That’s how we survived. Those systems were not shaped to heed, much less emotionally respond to, faceless threats distant in time and space — like, say, climate change. No evil genius could design a problem less likely to grab our attention.
This is a familiar point, but some new research on sea level throws it into sharp relief. Let’s quickly review the research, and while we do, keep this question in the back of our minds: “Does this make me feel anything? Even if I understand, do I care?”
Sea-level rise is a vexed issue in climate discussions because everyone wants to know where sea level’s going to be in 2050, or 2100 — years that we can, at least dimly, imagine. I’ll still be alive in 2050, presumably, and my kids or grandkids in 2100, with any luck.
The problem is that it’s much easier to project long-term sea levels than short term. It’s difficult to nail down the near-term timing of “nonlinear” (abrupt) events involving, say, ice sheets, but over a few thousand years, it all evens out. A century just isn’t that long in climatic terms.
A team of researchers led by Anders Levermann at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research has done something novel. They said, screw the short term. We know that CO2, once it’s in the atmosphere, is effectively permanent. We know that for a given level of CO2 concentrations, eventually you get a given temperature, and for a given temperature, sooner or later sea level will rise to adjust. When you raise the temperature, you “lock in” a certain amount of sea-level rise, even if you don’t know exactly how quickly it will happen.
So Levermann and co. set out to determine how much sea-level rise gets locked in for every degree that global average temperature rises. They modeled all the main drivers — thermal expansion (warm water expands), glaciers melting, the Greenland ice sheet, and the Antarctic ice sheet — and then compared the results to the paleo data to make sure they matched up with the patterns in the historical record (they did).
This is, scientifically speaking, easier to do that predicting short-term sea levels. “On a 2,000-year time scale,” they say, “the sea-level contribution will be largely independent of the exact warming path during the first century.” A lot of stuff that might be abrupt or unpredictable over the next century or two washes out over the long-term.
So what’s the verdict? Long story short, for every degree Celsius that global average temperature rises, we can expect 2.3 meters of sea-level rise sometime over the ensuing 2,000 years. (U.S. translation: for every degree Fahrenheit, 4.2 feet of rising seas get locked in.) We are currently on track to hit 4 degrees Celsius by 2100, if not sooner. That means locking in 9.2 meters, or 30 feet, of sea level rise. Suffice to say, that would wipe out most of the major coastal cities and towns in the world.
There you have it: If we stay on our current trajectory, by the end of the century we will ensure the eventual destruction of our coastal developments. But! That destruction will happen at some point over the next 2,000 years. Maybe not for 100, maybe not even for several hundred, long after you and your children and your grandchildren are dead.
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Do you care? Should you? Should you mobilize and put lots of money and effort toward an emissions-reduction regime that will prevent it? If you knew you were committing the place you live to destruction in 100 years, would it move you to action? What about 200 years? 500? 500 years ago was 1513, the year Juan Ponce de León “discovered” Florida and claimed it for Spain. I wonder if he worried what would happen in 2013.
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Sea-level “lock in” is happening 10 times faster than sea-level rise itself, but thanks to the long time lag, it’s even more invisible. To bring it a little closer to home, Ben Strauss at Climate Central follows up on Levermann’s analysis by examining what sea-level rise might mean for America. (It’s a preview of a new paper that will be published Monday in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.) [Editor’s note: Strauss is on Grist’s board of directors.]
There’s grim news right up front:
To begin with, it appears that the amount of carbon pollution to date has already locked in more than 4 feet of sea level rise past today’s levels. That is enough, at high tide, to submerge more than half of today’s population in 316 coastal cities and towns (home to 3.6 million) in the lower 48 states.
That’s a done deal. Those places are effectively doomed. But the choices we make today will have huge repercussions on sea levels to come:
By the end of this century, if global climate emissions continue to increase, that may lock in 23 feet of sea level rise, and threaten 1,429 municipalities that would be mostly submerged at high tide. Those cities have a total population of 18 million. But under a very low emissions scenario, our sea level rise commitment might be limited to about 7.5 feet, which would threaten 555 coastal municipalities: some 900 fewer communities than in the higher-emissions scenario.
If we take heroic measures, we could lose “only” 555 American towns and cities to the ocean. Whee!
If we do nothing and stay on our current trajectory, over 1,400 are threatened, including:
Nationally, the largest threatened cities at this level [50 percent submerged at high tide] are Miami, Virginia Beach, Va., Sacramento, Calif., and Jacksonville, Fla.
If we choose 25 percent [submerged] instead of 50 percent as the threat threshold, the lists all increase, and would include major cities like Boston, Long Beach, Calif., and New York City.
So, yeah, lots of American places are screwed over the long term. But how long? I mean, if it’s in 2,000 years … who knows if humanity will even exist? By then, surely the robots will have taken over.
Strauss addresses this question:
The big question hanging over this analysis is how quickly sea levels will rise to the committed levels. Neither Levermann and colleagues’ analysis, nor my new paper, address this question.
In a loose analogy, it is much easier to know that a pile of ice in a warm room will melt, than to know exactly how fast it will melt.
Levermann and company do put an upper limit of 2,000 years on how long it will take the sea level commitments described here to play out. Recent research indicates that warming from carbon emitted today is essentially irreversible on the relevant timescales (in the absence of its massive-scale engineered removal from the atmosphere), and will endure for hundreds or thousands of years, driving this long run unstoppable sea level rise.
On the other hand, our sea level rise commitment may be realized well before two millennia from now. The average rate of global sea level rise during the 20th century was about half a foot per century. The current rate is 1 foot, or twice that. And middle-of-the-road projections point to rates in the vicinity of 5 feet per century by 2100.
Such rates, if sustained, would realize the highest levels of sea level rise contemplated here in hundreds, not thousands of years — fast enough to apply continual pressure, as well as threaten the heritage, and very existence, of coastal communities everywhere. [my emphasis]
OK, so we’re probably talking hundreds instead of thousands of years. Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that business as usual will put Miami under water in 100 years.
What is Miami worth to us? What will it be worth to the humans of 2113?
It depends, I would say, on what you think of those 2113 humans. Most people assume that humanity is going to experience a continual rise in wealth, technological sophistication, and living standards. That’s certainly the assumption baked into most economic models. If it’s true, the people of 2113 are going to be immeasurably more wealthy than us. Perhaps they’ll live in floating cities, or space stations. Perhaps they will drive amphibious vehicles. Perhaps they will leave their corporal bodies behind entirely and live on as clusters of electrons in Google data centers. What need will they have of Miami? They have transcended Miami. At any rate, we’re not inclined to worry about them. They’ll be better prepared to deal with the loss of Miami than we are to prevent that loss. Or so the thinking goes.
But there’s another way of seeing it. What if, as many people fear, we are churning through irreplaceable natural capital and our descendents are going to have less to work with than we do? What if our descendents face a world of resource shortages, insane weather, and denuded biodiversity? What if they need all the help they can get? If that’s true, it seems unthinkably irresponsible to allow a huge swath of our invested energy and capital to wash away in the sea.
What do you think? Do you care — really feel it, in your gut — that we’re in the process of consigning hundreds of American towns and cities to destruction? What does being a good ancestor mean to you?
A group of Navajo activists advocating for healthy living is not deterred by the tribal council’s decision to reject their proposed Junk Food Tax Act of 2013.
The Diné Community Advocacy Alliance instead plans to partner with private businesses and introduce their bill as a referendum next election, reported the Navajo Times.
The bill aims to increase the tax on “junk food” by 2 percent and eliminate the 5 percent sales tax on fresh fruits and vegetables. The Alliance also wants to ban sales tax on water. Money reaped from the junk food tax would be distributed to chapters with the intent of funding wellness programs.
While delegates largely supported the tax elimination on fresh fruits and vegetables, many criticized the tax on “junk food,” saying it might incite Navajos to purchase groceries in reservation border towns with tax-free food, such as Gallup or Farmington, New Mexico.
Among other concerns, delegates expressed worries the tax may place more stress on disadvantaged families. But those who use Electronic Benefits Transfer (EBT) cards or food stamps will not be affected, because sales tax is excluded from eligible items. The Alliance plans to address the federal issue with EBT cards in the future; the cards promote sales of processed foods like chips and soda by reducing their cost.
Last week’s deliberation over the bill left the council divided over the tax increase on junk food but has opened conversation lines about the potential benefits of making purchases of fresh produce more affordable, and taxing and labeling unhealthy foods as “junk,” thus making it less appealing to consumers for monetary and psychological reasons.
This week, the exiled head of the Syrian opposition movement said he would meet representatives of President Bashar al-Assad in Geneva, a promising turn for a conflict that has left 100,000 dead, including many civilians, since spring 2011. It has been a long, bitter battle, but for many Syrians one root of the violence stretches back to several years before al-Assad’s troops began picking off anti-government protesters. Beginning in 2006, a prolonged, severe drought decimated farmland, spiked food prices, and forced millions of Syrians into poverty — helping to spark the unrest that eventually exploded into civil war.
The Syrian conflict is just one recent example of the connection between climate and conflict, a field that is increasingly piquing the interest of criminologists, economists, historians, and political scientists. Studies have begun to crop up in leading journals examining this connection in everything from the collapse of the Mayan civilization to modern police training in the Netherlands. A survey published today in Science takes a first-ever 30,000-foot view of this research, looking for trends that tie these examples together through fresh analysis of raw data from 60 quantitative studies. It offers evidence that unusually high temperatures could lead to tens of thousands more cases of “interpersonal” violence — murder, rape, assault, etc. — and more than a 50 percent increase in “intergroup” violence, i.e. war, in some places.
“This is what keeps me awake at night,” lead author Solomon Hsiang, an environmental policy post-doc at Princeton, said. “The linkage between human conflict and climate changes was really pervasive.”
Any cop could tell you that hot days can make people snap — last summer veteran police boss William Bratton argued that a warm winter contributed to a rash of murders in Chicago. But Hsiang and his colleagues wanted to see how this pattern held up across the globe, at different times and with different kinds of conflict, to gauge just how much the climate can lead to violence.
So they rounded up recent studies that could reliably show a causal connection between climate and violence in a variety of contemporary, historical, and experimental settings. They re-crunched the raw data from these studies to smooth out details specific to each case (temperature data was converted to deviation from average, rather than absolute temperatures, for example) in order to make apples-to-apples comparisons across time and across the world. What emerged was an unsettling new picture of the exact effect climate changes have on our tendency toward violence: For every one standard deviation toward warmer temperatures, the median frequency of “interpersonal” violence rose 4 percent. In the U.S., that would translate to an additional 56,000 violent crimes every year on top of the average 1.4 million (according to FBI data) we’ve experienced annually in the last decade. And that could just be the beginning: Hsiang’s study points out that inhabited places on Earth are likely to see warming of two to four standard deviations by 2050.
Meanwhile, the study found the median frequency of “intergroup” violence jumped 14 percent for every standard deviation; again, in the context of projected future warming, this means that by 2050 the threat of war could climb more than 50 percent in some places.
The study also found general agreement amongst case studies that exceptionally high and low rainfall — particularly when it impacts agricultural production — can lead both to interpersonal and intergroup violence. But even looking only at scientists’ projections for future temperature increases, the statistical rise in violent tendencies is significant enough, the study claims, that “amplified rates of human conflict could represent a large and critical impact of anthropogenic climate change.” In other words, it’s something we might need to prepare for — just like rising seas or nastier wildfires.
It’s not just isolated hot days that spur increased violence; the study found increased conflict in warmer-than-usual periods over time spans ranging from an hour (in a controlled experiment where police trainees were stuck in rooms of different temperatures and asked to respond to a hypothetical aggressor; cops in the hot room were much more likely to fire their weapons) to thousands of years (in an anthropological study [PDF] of how summer temperatures drove the collapse of ancient human settlements in northern Norway).
With this connection nailed down, Hsiang said, the next step is to better understand what exactly about higher temperatures leads to conflict; he compared the pursuit to that of early 20-century medical researchers who knew smoking caused cancer but didn’t understand why at a molecular level. In the case of Syria, it’s easy enough to draw a line from heat and drought to civil unrest, but that doesn’t help explain why a protest is more likely to boil into a riot on a hot day, or why more murders are likely to happen in a hot decade.
“We have a mountain of evidence,” he said. “But we can’t completely explain all the intervening steps.”
An 1832 act of Congress prohibited all alcohol in Indian Country.
Today, Pine Ridge is the only South Dakota reservation that remains dry. Despite that status, alcoholism and alcohol-related crime run rampant.
Recently, the Oglala Sioux Tribal Council decided that the people should vote on whether to allow sales on the reservation.
For some, the issue is about tradition. For others, it’s about maintaining sovereignty. And for others yet, it’s about ending the steady flow of money over the border to a tiny town called White Clay, Nebraska.
White Clay – population approximately 14 – is an unincorporated town located a couple miles from Pine Ridge – the largest community on the reservation of the same name.
Alcohol is White Clay’s big industry – really, its only industry – and many Oglala are angry.
“It’s committing slow genocide on our people,” said tribal member Olowan Martinez.
More than four million cans of beer are sold in White Clay’s four liquor stores each year – mostly to tribal members. Meaning the money is leaving not only the reservation, but the state.
Now, in a special election August 13, the people will decide whether to allow alcohol sales on Pine Ridge.
Tribal Vice President Tom Poor Bear doesn’t think that’s enough time.
“I don’t feel we’re ready for it. I feel there’s a lot of questions to be asked. We need to regulate it right to begin with. We need to change a lot of laws within our tribal code that surround alcohol.”
Part of Poor Bear’s concern involves allowing outside government in.
“You know, my biggest concern on this is I really feel we really need to do our homework in depth, and we really need to do some research. Because what I’m afraid of is state jurisdiction. We are a sovereign nation. And we’re going to be buying this alcohol – if it is legalized – from the state. We probably have to get an alcohol tax, which violates the treaty, because we’re a tax exempt people. Is State Patrol going to be allowed to patrol our reservation highways?” asked Poor Bear.
Many make the argument that the only way to stop hemorrhaging money into White Clay, and stop other problems that come with alcohol is to take the power back and eradicate what many consider a parasite.
“They’re just sucking us. Capitalizing on the disease that we have. White Clay is just…we’re in the belly of another little monster,” said Poor Bear.
For some, that means the tribe selling its own alcohol and using revenues toward treatment and prevention programs. For others, like a group of tribal members camped at the border since April 30, the solution is a return to traditional ways – saying no to alcohol under all circumstances.
“There are many issues facing White Clay, but personally for us here, the main goal we’re trying to achieve is changing the mentality of our nation. If we teach a ten-year-old today that alcohol is the enemy, and any time their parents bring it into their home, they know there’s an enemy in their home,” said Martinez, who is part of the months-long protest.
When asked about the example set by other tribes that have legalized alcohol, perspectives differed.
“We don’t want to join the rest of the sell-out tribes, by allowing alcohol or the state in. That’s out of the question for many of us. We’re the only nation that defeated the U.S. government, and we will never forget that,” said Martinez.
“I’ve been to other reservations that aren’t dry reservations. Like our neighbors to the east, the Sicangus – the Rosebuds – they do sell alcohol there. I do go to Rosebud a lot, and I don’t see the White Clays on Rosebud. Where you see empty cans, empty bottles. Their reservation’s really clean,” said Poor Bear.
And while opinions differ on the alcohol question, tribal members KSFY News spoke with acknowledge that the Oglala people must be the ones to answer.
“I don’t think we should dictate to our people how they should live their lives,” said Poor Bear.
“We know it’s not going to pass. Because when we set our camp up, we went to ceremony, and the spirits aren’t gonna have us put our camp here and give up our lives to break our hearts in the end,” said tribal member Misty Sioux Little.
Off-sale liquor licenses were first issued in White Clay during the 1970’s.
Today, more than 90-percent of crime in and around the tiny town is alcohol-related.
By Eric de Place and Clark Williams-Derry, Cross-posted from Sightline Daily, Source: Grist.org
Editor’s note: The coal industry is desperate to ship its product to Asia because demand here in the U.S. has dropped. Three coal export terminals are currently proposed for Washington and Oregon (down from six a year ago). Before they can be built, their environmental impacts must be evaluated. Climate activists have been calling for broad evaluations of the myriad impacts, while industry wants just narrow studies done. Today comes word that the environmental impact study for one of the proposed terminals will be wide-ranging and rigorous — a win for anti-coal activists.
Hot off the presses: The three “co-lead” agencies in charge of reviewing the proposed Gateway Pacific coal export terminal at Cherry Point, Wash., have published the scope of their review. The major takeaway is that it’s bad news for the coal industry.
The industry did win an empty victory with the Army Corps of Engineers, the sole federal agency at the table, which opted for a narrow scope of review. But in the end it doesn’t much matter. One of the other lead agencies, the Washington Department of Ecology, is going to require in-depth analysis of four elements that the coal industry had desperately hoped to avoid:
A detailed assessment of rail transportation’s impacts on representative communities in Washington and a general analysis of out-of-state rail impacts.
An assessment of how the project would affect human health in Washington.
A general assessment of cargo-ship impacts beyond Washington waters.
An evaluation and disclosure of greenhouse gas emissions of end-use coal combustion.
Of those, two stand to be particularly damaging for would-be coal exporters: rail impacts and greenhouse gas emissions. There’s not a lot of wiggle room with either of those elements.
First, burning the 48 million tons of coal proposed for export at the terminal annually would release roughly 100 million tons of carbon dioxide, a staggering figure that amounts to as much carbon pollution as every activity in the state of Washington combined. In other words, it’s a clear environmental disaster that would overshadow every other effort the state has made to reduce climate-changing emissions.
Second, moving that much coal to a terminal will create congestion throughout the region. There’s simply no way around the math. In Seattle, for example, both Sightline and the traffic analysis firm Parametrix have confirmed that new coal export shipments would completely close major center city streets by an additional one to three hours every day, 365 days per year.
What’s worse for the coal industry is that the expansive scope of review will likely create further delay and uncertainty, potentially scaring off investors. Just yesterday, in fact, executives from Cloud Peak Energy, which plans to mine up to 10 millions tons of coal a year in Montana and ship it out through West Coast ports, griped about the slow progress on coal export terminals during a sad-sack discussion of its weak second-quarter earnings.
Now that public agencies will be tallying the manifest pollution, health, climate, and congestion impacts of the Gateway Pacific coal terminal, there’s likely to be even more opposition to planned export terminals. Plus, given more analysis and a wider exploration of the proposal’s problems, opponents will likely find abundant opportunities to litigate, which would of course create even more delay and uncertainty.
So the bottom line of today’s announcement for the proposed Gateway Pacific coal terminal: long delays, high costs, more opportunities for public opposition, and a near-certainty of litigation. Coupled with the ongoing collapse in Pacific Rim coal prices, it’s not a fun time to be in the Northwest coal export business.
Eric de Place is a senior researcher at Sightline Institute, a Seattle-based sustainability think tank.
Clark Williams-Derry is research director for the Seattle-based Sightline Institute, a nonprofit sustainability think tank working to promote smart solutions for the Pacific Northwest. He was formerly the webmaster for Grist.
