“12. “Peace” for Indigenous Peoples: Land-Based Visions of Reconciliation” in “On Othering”
Chapter12 “Peace” for Indigenous Peoples Land-Based Visions of Reconciliation
Rebecca Tsosie
Within the United States, and globally, Indigenous peoples represent land-based communities that maintain an intergenerational presence on their ancestral territories. This relationship between people and land has a central role in defining each group’s cultural identity and serves as the foundation for a set of values enabling the community’s intergenerational sustainability. Colonization and globalization have disrupted these long-standing relationships; this essay describes some of those harms as they have affected the Navajo Nation and the Hopi Tribe in the Four Corners region of the American Southwest. These two Indigenous Nations have different histories and cultures but have coexisted within the same territory for centuries. In the twentieth century, the US federal government and private corporations incentivized large-scale energy development of tribal lands, disrupting central relationships between the two Indigenous Nations and between the Nations and their lands. The political debates over land use, energy resources development, and water have continued into the twenty-first century and are reaching a critical scale, given the global COVID-19 pandemic and associated stresses. What will it take to heal the relationships between the people and between the people and the lands? This essay invokes the theme of “reconciliation” as a way to identify the human rights issues that have emerged from conflicts over land, water, and natural resources. I will take the position that “peace” with the Other will require centring Indigenous values in the effort to restore the land, the water, and the way of life that has allowed each Nation to maintain an enduring presence as the First Nations of that territory.
The Relationship Between People and Place
The Colorado Plateau in the American Southwest is a unique landscape of stunning beauty that extends across four states and encompasses over 80 million acres. Best known for the Grand Canyon, a national and international heritage site visited by thousands of tourists each year, the area also encompasses an unseen but sacred landscape of shrines, pilgrimage sites, and natural springs that gives life to the area. This vibrant interaction of land and water enabled countless generations of Indigenous peoples to survive—and thrive—on these arid lands. The Ancient Ones left inscriptions in the rock, marking human journeys through these lands. Overhead, the powder-blue sky extends forever and cloud shadows dance across the sandstone cliffs of these high-desert lands. When the rains come, they might be ephemeral dots of moisture or torrential floods.
This complex and unpredictable landscape is home to many Indigenous peoples, including the Navajo, the Hopi, the Havasupai, and the Hualapai. Today, each tribal government maintains ownership over reservation lands that were carved out of their ancestral lands. More distant tribal communities, such as the Zuni Pueblo of New Mexico, make regular pilgrimages to their traditional sacred places throughout the Colorado Plateau and into the vast chasm of the Grand Canyon. All of these Indigenous peoples have a unique legal status under US law as federally recognized American Indian tribes with long-standing claims to sovereignty, land, water, and cultural rights. In most cases, the tribal Nations trace their ancestral ties to these lands from time immemorial.
While tourists enjoy experiencing the Indigenous cultural heritage of the Colorado Plateau, they often do not understand the harsh legacy of energy development that has contaminated the land, depleted the water, and jeopardized the ability of tribal governments to ensure that the land can adequately support the people’s continued survival. The development of coal, oil, gas and uranium reserves began over a century ago, rooted in America’s national quest to exploit natural resources for private economic gain. From 1955 to 1975, energy development accelerated on the Colorado Plateau in order to fuel the growth of large urban centres in the West, including Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Phoenix, which had long since exhausted their own local resources.1 As Charles Wilkinson notes, the linchpin for this development was Black Mesa, “sacred ground to the Hopi and Navajo” people, who were coerced into leasing their coal and water to the private corporations and public utility partners who sponsored the energy projects. Peabody Coal Company started mining coal at Black Mesa in 1968, fuelling the creation of several large power plants, including the Four Corners Generating Station and the Navajo Generating Station, both located on the Navajo Nation; the Mojave Generating Plant in Nevada; and the San Juan Generating Plant, adjacent to the Navajo Nation in Farmington, New Mexico. The environmental consequences of this proliferation of coal-fired power plants were treated as an acceptable risk, despite the fact that reservation lands are home to thousands of Navajo and Hopi citizens. The National Academy of Science termed the Four Corners area a National Sacrifice Area in recognition of the development’s severe and irremediable environmental impacts. There was no equivalent assessment of the health consequences of this concentration of power plants on area tribal members. Instead, the Navajo Nation and Hopi Tribe received monetary payments for leasing their land and coal reserves, and they also granted the right to use approximately 1.3 billion gallons of pristine groundwater per year to transport coal slurry from mines on the Navajo Reservation to the Mojave Generating Station in Nevada.
Today, climate change and environmental concerns over air pollution have caused the closure of several of these coal-fired power plants, and the others will likely close within the next decade. Energy resources development has shifted to other forms of environmental exploitation. Oil and gas development on tribal lands and federal public lands—including hydraulic fracturing (fracking)—has expanded, and uranium mining has also continued to some extent, despite the current lack of any long-term storage facility in the United States to house radioactive waste.
Mineral development on the Colorado Plateau involves federal public lands managed by agencies such as the Bureau of Land Management and the Forest Service, as well as state and tribal lands. The shared governance of the Colorado Plateau complicates the region’s social and political dynamics. All human communities must share land and water and cannot survive without these common resources. The problems arise from the differing goals and needs of the respective claimants.
In the historic process, Indigenous peoples became the Other when the US asserted its so-called “manifest destiny” to colonize and civilize the land of what the colonizers designated as the “New World.” In the words of Chief Justice John Marshall, the “tribes of Indians inhabiting this country were fierce savages, whose occupation was war, and whose subsistence was drawn chiefly from the forest. To leave them in possession of their country, was to leave the country a wilderness.” Chief Justice Marshall imported the rule of “discovery” from international law, to assert that “discovery gave title” to the first European government to claim lands inhabited by Native people. The Native people had the right to occupy their traditional lands until the European sovereign extinguished this right by “purchase or by conquest.” The United States took title to the land from Great Britain by Treaty, as well as the right to extinguish the “Indian right of occupancy.” Marshall did not question the logic of the European colonizers, who believed that they made “ample compensation” to the inhabitants of the New World by “bestowing on them civilization and Christianity.”2
Today, the oppositional dynamics are not so simple. The US holds reservation lands in trust for federally recognized Indian tribes, who are the beneficial owners of their lands and associated natural resources. In that sense, tribal Nations have the full beneficial title to their lands, similar to a private owner, although the legal title to the lands remains with the US.
Although tribal Nations exercise sovereignty over their lands, the legacy of US colonialism has been to incentivize development of tribal lands for the “greater good” of the country, often under the guise of “helping” Native peoples. Throughout most of the twentieth century, the Bureau of Indian Affairs actively incentivized mineral development on tribal lands, asserting that this development would bring jobs and lease revenues to the impoverished tribal communities. Sometimes it did. It also created a need to commodify the land, mineral resources, and water, thus demarcating the respective “ownership” interests of the Navajo Nation and Hopi Tribe and enabling the US to preside over the quantification and sale of tribal resources. In the ensuing legal process, traditional relationships between the Indigenous people and land were reconfigured according to Western hierarchies. Each Indigenous Nation became an Other, as did the land.
Energy Development and Environmental Harm
Throughout the nineteenth century, the US government dismantled traditional tribal governance systems and broke the treaty reservations into smaller parcels that could be leased to non-Indians for farming, ranching, and mineral development. Within this colonial model of land management, federal bureaucrats made the land-use decisions for tribal Nations (considered “wards” of the federal government), commonly approving leases of tribal land at below-market rates. In 1934, Congressional policy shifted to recognize the agency of tribal Nations as governments. Congress passed the Indian Reorganization Act in 1934, which promoted the establishment of Western-style elected tribal councils that could easily validate lease agreements. Tribal governments were persuaded to consent to intensive development of reservation lands as a means to provide jobs to tribal members and lease revenues for the tribal government.3 Throughout the twentieth century, the federal government actively promoted development of coal, oil, and gas on tribal lands in the Four Corners region.
The US government also began to actively prospect for uranium, locating some of the richest deposits in the Colorado Plateau. In 1942, the US government began a classified survey of the area and covertly mined uranium on the Navajo Nation.4 After World War II, Congress passed the 1946 Atomic Energy Act, which established the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC). The AEC controlled all uranium mining, and the uranium had to be sold to the AEC. The AEC contracted with the Vanadium Corporation of America, issuing it a lease to mine on the Navajo Nation. Although the adverse health effects of uranium mining were already known, the AEC assumed no responsibility for protecting worker safety in the mines. Navajo men were neither given protective gear nor informed of the risks of uranium mining without protective gear. At night, they went home to their families with the radioactive dust on their clothes. In 1949, the US Public Health Service began a covert study of the effects of uranium mining on Navajo miners, and a 1952 study confirmed that many had developed lung cancer and experienced high rates of mortality. The study results were not released to the Navajo Nation for fear that it would deter them from approving further leases to mining companies.
In 1971, with the end of the Cold War, the US government passed a law authorizing commercial development of uranium for energy use. The mines on the Navajo Nation continued to operate under private ownership, but the levels of illness and death among mine workers continued to rise. State laws protecting mine workers do not extend to tribal lands, and there were not analogous federal laws. After holding hearings on the severe impacts of uranium mining on Navajo workers, Congress ultimately passed the 1990 Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA), which provided limited compensation to miners or their widows for harms to health and loss of life that arose from work undertaken between 1942 and 1971. The Navajo Nation was never compensated for the harm to its land and waters.
Today, the lands of the Navajo Nation house hundreds of abandoned uranium mines that have contaminated the air, water, and land. Only one of the estimated one thousand abandoned uranium mines on the Navajo Reservation is undergoing remediation and there is not an available location to move the vast pile of radioactive tailings near Church Rock, New Mexico. In 1979, a mud dam near the Church Rock site failed, spilling over 1,100 tons of uranium tailings and 100 million gallons of radioactive wastewater into the Rio Puerco River. The largest nuclear spill in US history, it caused catastrophic damage to the Navajo people, lands, water resources, and livestock that drank the contaminated water. Although the affected Navajo plaintiffs sought to sue the responsible party, United Nuclear Corporation, in tribal court, the lawsuit was held to be pre-empted by the federal law that limits the liability of nuclear companies for damages and requires lawsuits to be brought in federal court. The company eventually paid a minimal settlement out of court, and the mill was closed in 1982. The Church Rock site was placed on the Superfund National Priorities List in 1983, but it is currently only in the initial stages of clean-up.
As of 2020, there is only one active uranium mill in the US—the White Mesa mill near Blanding, Utah. The White Mesa mill is owned by Energy Fuels, a Canadian Corporation, and it processes uranium from mines across the Colorado Plateau as well as radioactive waste from contaminated sites across North America. The White Mesa mill has become the de facto dump for radioactive waste in the US, and Indigenous communities are at highest risk for exposure. Residents of the Ute Mountain Ute Indian Tribe live within three miles of the White Mesa mill, and members of the Navajo Nation living on tribal land near Blanding, Utah are also nearby. Energy Fuels is currently seeking permission to expand its facility to accept imported radioactive waste from Europe and Japan, despite the fact that the facility has already contaminated the air and groundwater to a level that is unsafe for tribal members living adjacent to the facility.
The Navajo Nation banned uranium mining within the reservation in 2005, citing the historical experience as a practice of genocide against the Navajo people sanctioned by the US government. That ban does not preclude state governments, such as Utah, from allowing uranium mining or the operation of a mill on privately owned lands adjacent to the reservation. In addition, the state of New Mexico has authorized In Situ Leach Mining for uranium deposits on privately owned lands within the Checkerboard area of the Navajo Nation, where tribal land is interspersed with land held in private ownership. In that area, 99 percent of the population is Navajo and residents rely on the common pool of groundwater that lies beneath the mining sites.
Unfortunately, the lack of effective state environmental oversight with respect to mining on private land adjacent to the reservation means that the Navajo people continue to bear a disproportionate level of harm from uranium development within the Four Corners region, just as the Navajo and Hopi people shouldered the harms of coal mining and the power plants in this region. In each case, US policymakers took the view that it is permissible to “sacrifice” certain lands and resources for the “greater good” of the public. These policymakers envisioned the environment as a non-living entity comprising energy “resources” that must be exploited for economic gain. The resultant contamination of air, water, and land on the Navajo Nation and Hopi tribal lands is considered an acceptable price to pay for the benefits of energy resource development. The economic benefits to the tribal governments are envisioned as adequate compensation for the harms to tribal lands and resources. The harms to human health are rarely discussed, with the limited exception of RECA, which was created for the Navajo uranium miners who could prove that the harms to their health directly resulted from unsafe mining practices.
Human Rights and Earth Rights
US energy development policies have caused significant and lasting impacts on Indigenous territories and on the people themselves. “Environmental justice” for Indigenous peoples entails a recognition that harms to the environment cause harm to the people, and these harms are often inseparable. The cumulative weight of the harms cannot be understood within the existing structure of US law because that law differentiates harm to “persons” from harm to “environment” and uses instrumental standards to assess liability. The deficient legal framework causes a type of epistemic injustice for Indigenous peoples that prevents environmental justice and requires an expanded notion of legal rights.5 Harms to living persons are addressed through tort law, and plaintiffs must demonstrate the defendant breached a duty of care, causing tangible personal injury. The broader contamination of land and resources and long-term health exposure to tribal members generally does not fit that model. Moreover, it is very difficult for plaintiffs to sue the US government for harms that arise from insufficient oversight. The complicity of the US and the private energy corporations that developed coal and uranium on Navajo and Hopi tribal lands further complicated the issue of liability for harm, as demonstrated by the events following the Church Rock spill and the federal legislation allowing only limited recovery for specific and proven harms to Navajo uranium miners.
In fact, most of the harms to human health from energy development in the Four Corners region will never be quantified, understood, or compensated under US law. The broader lens of human rights law offers a more accurate appraisal of the harms and is a potential mechanism to overcome epistemic forms of injustice under US law. The United Nation’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, adopted in 2007 by majority consensus of the UN General Assembly, regards energy exploitation in Indigenous territories as a potential human rights abuse and further counsels against activities that harm the health of Indigenous peoples or result in their removal from their territories.
Environmental Justice as Earth Justice
Environmental harm depends upon violation of specific standards for air and water pollution established under federal law. Most of the years that the power plants and coal mines in the Four Corners region were operating at maximum capacity saw negligible federal regulation. Even after the closure of specific power plants or coal mines, the costs of “restoring” land to an adequate level are prohibitive. Progress could take several decades. Similarly, the groundwater has been badly depleted, and in the context of climate change, desertification of the land is already underway.
From the perspective of traditional Navajo and Hopi customary law, the Earth is alive and shares a fundamental relationship with the people, who must care for the land and water over each generation. In that sense, the Earth is envisioned as a living being with a consciousness and need to purify itself within the cycles of the natural world. Water is like lifeblood, and the confluence of rivers often has a sacred meaning and significance. Within this perspective, it is unwise to dam a river to secure hydroelectric power, and the destruction that dams cause is often considered a desecration.
It is important to note that the basic perspective about the identity and importance of the Earth and water transcends Indigenous cultures.6 Navajo language and culture is distinctive from Hopi language and culture, and yet the land ethics that arise from each Indigenous tradition describe the Earth’s sacred qualities and people’s relationships with one another and the Earth. The Navajo Nation’s fundamental law describes a Universe bounded by Four Sacred Mountains, each associated with a direction, colours, medicinal plants, and elements. Human beings are allowed to use certain elements (such as coal or wood) to heat fires, and they rely on the land and water to survive. Yet, under the Navajo Nation’s customary law, it is considered inappropriate and dangerous to harvest certain elements (such as uranium) or to engage in wasteful uses of the land and resources. This is the basis of the Navajo Nation’s current struggle to block a Phoenix-based private corporation from building four dams on and above a tributary to the Little Colorado River, which would pump groundwater to fill the hydro-power project’s reservoirs.7 The goal of the Big Canyon Pumped Hydro Storage Project is to store “surplus electricity” and support electric-grid reliability, ultimately allowing storage of 3,600 megawatts of electricity. This is important for industrial users of electricity in the Southwest, given the recent closure of the Navajo Generating Station, which was the West’s largest power plant before its closure in 2019. The rivers in the area will be used instrumentally to service the energy needs of Western cities, just as the lands were used for coal mining.
The Little Colorado River merges with the Colorado River at the mouth of the Grand Canyon, and this confluence site is widely regarded as sacred by all of the tribal Nations that are culturally associated with the region, including the Navajo Nation, the Hopi Tribe, the Havasupai Tribe, the Hualapai Tribe, and the Zuni Pueblo. The act of pumping pristine groundwater to service the Hydro project’s reservoir is a further desecration and one that would destroy the precious springs that nurture the Hopi farmers in their centuries-long cultural practices. Not surprisingly, the Navajo Nation and Hopi tribal governments and their attorneys are actively resisting the dam project, even though the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission has accepted the corporation’s permit application.
Tribal governments’ unity on the dam issue aligns with the cultural traditions of both tribal Nations; it is also notable because the effect of federal policy has been to create opposition and antagonism between them. This is a further harm that must be considered and, ultimately, reconciled.
The Navajo–Hopi Land Dispute
The Navajo Nation entered a treaty with the US in 1868 that demarcated a certain area of traditional land as their reservation. The Navajo people have a tradition of owning livestock, including sheep, goats, and horses, and many families maintained winter camps and summer camps. As the Navajo Nation’s population expanded, the US annexed additional parcels of land into the reservation by executive order. Today, the Navajo Reservation extends across four states and comprises sixteen million acres. Under US federal law, the Navajo Nation is a sovereign government with the right to govern its lands and members. Under the Navajo Nation’s customary law, the Diné people are governed by the set of instructions given by the Holy People at their origin. This complex set of cultural instructions orients the people within their Universe, as do the clans that socially organize the Navajo people.
The Hopi Tribe comprises several autonomous villages, including Oraibi, which is widely considered to be the oldest continuously inhabited site in North America and likely dates back 1,100 years or more. The Hopi villages are ancient and situated in place. Families occupy their sandstone homes generation after generation. Hopi people also have a clan system of social organization and have always farmed fields adjacent to their villages using a traditional dry farming technique, which preserves moisture in the soil and allows corn, squash, and melons to grow despite the extremely arid conditions and without the use of irrigation.
The Hopi have never moved from their villages and do not have a treaty with the US because they remained at peace and chose to negotiate and co-operate with the federal government. The Hopi Tribe is also recognized as a separate sovereign government, and the Hopi Reservation was created by executive order in 1882 to encompass the boundaries of the Hopi Tribe’s traditional villages and fields. Owing to federal actions in the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, the Hopi Reservation became completely encompassed within the Navajo Reservation. The two Indigenous Nations had always coexisted within this territory; they had different cultural life ways and didn’t compete for land or resources. For generations, the two tribes traded with each other and intermarried, leading to a rich set of social relationships.
With the accelerating energy development in the mid-twentieth century, however, came a need to commodify the sub-surface mineral resources the tribes shared. This led to a bitterly contested land claim between the Navajo Nation and the Hopi Tribe that lasted from 1959 to 2005.8 Within the politics of energy development, each tribal Nation became an Other with respect to the land and each other. The first phase of litigation resulted in a judicial partition of the territory into “Navajo Partition Land” and “Hopi Partition Land.” Over 10,000 Navajo people were on the “wrong” side of the partition line and were relocated from their homes in the largest relocation of individual US citizens in American history. Many Navajo families were left landless due to the failure of the governmental bureaucracy that managed the resettlement process.9
The litigation over the western portion of the reservation, an area jointly used by the two tribes, persisted for many more years. In 2005, the final phase of the land claim was resolved by a judicial decision, leading to a Congressional decree that settled the claim. In 2009, after forty-three years, the federal government lifted the administrative freeze on development in the contested area of 1.5 million acres within the Navajo Reservation. The Bennett Freeze had gone into effect in 1966 to preserve the status quo between the two tribes, pending adjudication of their respective rights. In a vast landscape that is home to thousands of people, the administrative freeze prevented house construction and even routine home repairs, such as roof replacement. It also prevented infrastructure development, foreclosing the construction of gas lines and water lines and road construction. Ironically, in an area that supports the energy needs of major Western cities, most Navajo residents lack running water and electricity. The dirt roads are too rough for water trucks and are often impassable when the rain turns dust into mud. Most residents have to drive an hour or more each week to haul water back to their homes. The water is scarce and must be reused many times by intergenerational families who live in substandard homes that lack working kitchens or bathrooms.
Current Snapshot: The Impact of COVID-19
This entire history and the significant level of underdevelopment on the Navajo Nation was largely unknown to most Americans until 2020, when the COVID-19 pandemic hit. Even the poorest communities in other parts of the country have access to running water and electricity, inspiring medical professionals to insist upon handwashing and basic sanitation practices such as social distancing and avoiding crowded places. In June 2020, the national news media reported that the Navajo Nation was suffering the highest incidence of coronavirus cases in the country, surpassing even New York and New Jersey, which were in the midst of catastrophic outbreaks of the pandemic. The virus spread rapidly through the Navajo communities, where multigenerational families share a single home and where most are without running water to wash their hands or electricity for warmth and sanitation. Residents in these rural communities lack ready access to fresh food, water, or Personal Protective Equipment; many had to travel two or even three hours to the nearest grocery store. Many residents did not have vehicles and relied on rides from neighbours—and strangers—to obtain groceries or medical supplies. There are very few law enforcement officers or emergency responders in the area, and many residents have underlying health conditions, such as heart and lung disease and diabetes, that made them vulnerable. Not surprisingly, the virus spread rapidly throughout the communities, causing devastating loss of life in these communities. The Navajo people cherish their Elders; children are taught to take care of their grandparents, who are their teachers and the custodians of ancient and unwritten cultural knowledge. The loss of many Elders and working members of each household has had devastating cultural and social consequences for families and for the close-knit communities on the Navajo Nation.
In the midst of crisis, however, there is also an opportunity to contemplate what is needed to restore these Indigenous communities to health and to the basic set of social goods that most Americans take for granted.
Peace and the Other: What Would “Reconciliation” Entail?
According to Justice Murray Sinclair, who presided over Canada’s truth and reconciliation process with Indigenous peoples in Canada, “Reconciliation is about forging and maintaining respectful relationships. There are no shortcuts.”10 The key to achieving peace with the Other is to build—or rebuild—the requisite relationship according to a set of principles that achieves and honours the desired ends, including restoring social harmony, physical and spiritual well-being, environmental sustainability, and resilience. Given the history described above, “peace” as “reconciliation” on the Colorado Plateau requires restoring the relationships between the Navajo and Hopi tribal governments and between the people and their environment. It also requires the federal government to create a more just and equitable government-to-government relationship that can secure the well-being of each tribal Nation and restore the health of tribal lands and waters. This seems like a significant undertaking, given that the federal government continues to exploit the energy resources of tribal Nations for the larger public good, but it is vital to prioritize the needs of the Indigenous Nations that have sacrificed so much to enable the country’s development. I will draw upon current developments within international human rights law, as well as Indigenous world views, to construct the parameters of “peace” with Indigenous peoples and their lands.
Reconciliation and International Human Rights Law
In July 2019, the Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples presented a report on the efforts of nation-states to implement the various provisions of the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.11 The report emphasized the centrality of three themes: recognition, reparation, and reconciliation. Recognition of the rights and status of Indigenous peoples is ongoing among nation-states. In the US, the federal government recognizes the sovereign status and land rights of federally recognized tribal governments. The key to respectful relationships is to accord mutuality and respect, for example, through consultation prior to taking actions, such as the construction of dams that would jeopardize tribal rights. The process of reparations is linked to efforts to accord compensatory justice for past wrongs. The US is generally quite reluctant to accord material compensation for what it views as moral wrongs. Instead, Congress must pass legislation to selectively redress instances of proven injustice, such as providing compensation for Navajo uranium miners (or their surviving spouses) who became sick or died from radioactive contamination.
The process of reconciliation is also directed toward reparative justice, but it focuses on restoring broken relationships that have arisen from centuries of injustice in the wake of colonialism. This is the most abstract part of the human rights process, but it is a theme that must be engaged if we hope to repair the wounds that divide us from ourselves, from one another, and from the land itself.
The Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples is premised on the need for intercultural justice. The document is the result of over twenty-five years of negotiation between state and Indigenous representatives and includes an Indigenous perspective for recognizing distinctive rights. For example, it recognizes the spiritual relationship between Indigenous peoples and their territories, which has existed for generations and sustains the people’s place-based identity. Spiritual rights are different from religious rights. This concept is unique to Indigenous peoples among the various human rights documents and is closely linked to many Indigenous traditions that describe the people as “stewards” or “custodians”—rather than “owners”—of the land.
The job of a steward is to tend to the land: its forests, watersheds, mountains, and all component parts that sustain the health of the natural system, including the fish and wildlife. Stewardship is often associated with sustainability and with subsistence life ways, such as those of Indigenous peoples in Alaska who look after forests and Caribou herds but do not consider themselves to be owners of the Caribou herds or forests. In comparison, Western property law protects the right of an owner to exploit natural “resources” for their maximum economic value, which is the calculus of a market economy. The disparate values create dichotomies between and among Indigenous communities and with respect to their lands. In the Arctic, this dynamic has pitted Alaska Native corporations seeking to drill oil against Indigenous villages seeking to protect Caribou herds and salmon runs from environmental catastrophe.12 In the American Southwest, this dynamic has fuelled the development of coal, oil, gas, and uranium extraction on tribal lands, resulting in the massive contamination and underdevelopment that now threatens the well-being of the associated tribal communities. Today, the oppositional dynamic is affecting the precious and scarce water resources in the region, as the litigation between the Navajo Nation and the Hopi Tribe commences to quantify their respective water rights to the Little Colorado River.13
The process of reconciliation and achieving “peace” with the Other must not be romanticized. The Navajo Nation and the Hopi Tribe are separate sovereigns with important legal rights to their respective lands and natural resources, including minerals and water. In that sense, they are owners of the land, mineral resources, and water, and, like all owners, may choose to exploit their “share” of the resource and sell or lease it to third parties. However, the oppositional dynamics of ownership create a precarious reality in a time of rapid climate change, where water is the most precious and valuable resource for the future. Traditional Navajo and Hopi community members know how to live with and sustain this fragile resource better than anyone else, and that is an invaluable source of guidance on the road ahead.
Reconciliation and Indigenous Law
For Indigenous peoples, traditional law is based on the distinctive values and cultural norms of the people. Cherokee Elder Tom Belt, who taught Cherokee philosophy for many years at Western Carolina University, gave a lecture that described the Cherokee term for “law” as related to “health and healing” rather than “justice.” According to Belt, “to live according to the Laws of the Creator is to live a life of health and balance.” In the Cherokee way, no one was an orphan. Every Elder and every child had a family and home, food to eat, and people to care for them.
The comparison of Cherokee law with the treatment of Native peoples under US law is dramatic. Native peoples within the US (and other countries) have been subjected to some of the most cruel and inhumane policies in human history, given the colonization of their lands and the physical and cultural genocide that they experienced. Today, the harms of colonization and historic trauma manifest at the material and spiritual levels. This is the reason for what Chief Justice Robert Yazzie of the Navajo Nation describes as the “loss of hope” in some Indigenous communities, manifested by high suicide rates, substance abuse, and the overwhelming poverty that results in various levels of physical, social, and psychological deprivation.14
Of course, the harms of colonization cannot be healed by the colonizer. What is needed is a process of healing that emerges from the actions and consciousness of Indigenous communities and has the capacity to heal the physical and spiritual harms that they experience today. This is the agency of healing that is commonly associated with Indigenous justice systems that were designed to heal conflict within the community through principles of restorative justice rather than Western adversarial systems of retributive justice. The art of peacemaking associated with Navajo Peacemaker courts, for example, is similar to other Indigenous peacemaking traditions, such as the practice of Ho’opono’pono among Native Hawaiians. Indigenous peacemaking generally allows each party to express his or her emotions: victims can describe the consequences of injury and the offending party can take responsibility for the action. In that way, the peacemaking process enables each party to release the harsh mental states of resentment and retribution that can compromise healing and create continued violence and suffering. Healing is imagined as a multi-stepped process. As spiritual wounds are addressed, physical consequences are ameliorated and redressed, leading to restored harmony and balance.
This restorative approach is also associated with various human transgressions in the material world—often unintended—that can compromise individual health and integrity. This is one of the reasons for various ceremonial practices of Indigenous peoples designed to facilitate the respectful “taking” of First Foods, such as deer or salmon, for human consumption. These animals are relatives that give their lives so that human beings can survive; they are revered for this sacrifice and allowing wanton destruction of deer or salmon purely for human greed would be considered a desecration. These ceremonial practices are associated with the physical and cultural survival of Indigenous peoples and serve as a baseline for the notion of respect and relationship that undergirds Indigenous land ethics.15
As Belt demonstrated, many Indigenous justice systems are founded upon the original laws given to the people at Creation, which are designed to promote life, harmony, and what today we might refer to as “sustainability.” The Western European nations promoted a false belief that Indigenous peoples lacked laws and therefore could not own property or claim the equivalent rights of a Christian, European nation. The European-derived Doctrine of Discovery became part of US law, justifying the appropriation of Indigenous lands and forcible destruction of Indigenous cultures. This history must be reconciled. The US has the duty of “moral repair,” in the words of philosopher Margaret Walker.16 Walker has written that many nations refuse to examine the negative aspects of their past, and they may fail to acknowledge government-sanctioned policies that perpetuated genocide or slavery or to assume accountability for current inequities those practices perpetuated. According to Walker, these groups have the “right to truth about the past,” and the government and its institutions have a duty to “remember” the past and to take corrective action to minimize the harms associated with historic policies and current inequities. Governments may insist that all citizens are now “equal” or that modern societies are “post-racial,” but this is not the experience of Indigenous peoples or other marginalized or minoritized groups.
Decolonization as “Indigenization”: Reconciliation with “People” and Place
The agency for healing must be rooted in Indigenous justice traditions. Today, decolonization requires “Indigenization,” centring the land and Indigenous people in policy discussions and grounding institutions in Indigenous values, even if this requires transforming the state’s institutions and practices. For example, if a state government commits to adaptation planning for climate change, or forest restoration or groundwater management, it must recognize that Indigenous land and water stewardship protocols should become part of state policy-making through co-operative state/tribal efforts. Karuk Tribal Chairman Russell Attebury recently made a statement to this effect after California Governor Gavin Newsom apologized for that state’s past genocidal policies and issued an executive order calling for healing and restoring relationships with the Indigenous Nations of California.17 Chairman Attebury described the need for the tribal and state governments to work together on environmental issues, combining “Indigenous traditional ecological knowledge with modern science,” including “thousands of years of managing the forests.”18 In a year when thousands of acres of forest land burned in California’s raging wildfires, the wisdom of Indigenous stewardship became all too clear. The knowledge of stewardship, however, resides with the First Nations of this land, not with the Western colonial nations or their descendants.
To bring the discussion back to the Southwest, the Navajo and Hopi people also maintain significant knowledge about the land, water, and environment that is pivotal to human survival. They are also on the front line of the climate crisis and the challenges associated with poverty, health vulnerability, and environmental contamination. Dr. Karletta Chief, a Navajo soil scientist and professor at the University of Arizona, oversees an environmental and health project designed to identify ways to decontaminate tribal lands and waters after decades of coal and uranium mining and restore sustainable community energy and agricultural practices on the Navajo Nation.19 In this historic partnership between a state educational institution and a tribal government, Navajo youth are trained to test and treat the water to remove heavy metals. They also assist in developing sustainable community farming practices to support the nutritional health of community members, as these remote communities are located in a “food desert.”
The Navajo Nation and Hopi tribal government will both be forced to make decisions about their mutual water resources as they go through the expensive and adversarial process of active water rights litigation. Under US law, water from common streams must be “adjudicated” into separable “water rights” that can be used by the respective “owners.” There are literally thousands of users of every stream and river in the state. Extractive industries are notoriously consumptive of water. The Black Mesa coal mine on the Navajo Nation is estimated to have extracted 1.3 billion gallons of water annually from the Navajo Aquifer before the mine closed, which amounts to a total of 45 billion gallons during Black Mesa’s life cycle.20 Peabody Coal Company also used the aquifer’s water at its Kayenta Mine, which closed in August 2019. The Navajo Aquifer is the sole source of drinking water in the region, and the water table has dropped precipitously, making it virtually impossible to access water through conventional wells, which normally access water at a depth of 400 to 500 feet. On the Navajo Nation, the groundwater is now 2,000 to 3,000 feet below the soil, and many springs and wells that once served the communities are completely dry.
The consequences of groundwater depletion are best understood by the tribal members who have lived and farmed these lands for generations. The Hopi people have farmed corn for multiple generations using dry farming techniques that do not require irrigation. For the Hopi people, corn is “central to their culture, religion, and way of life.”21 There are multiple practices associated with corn, such as selecting the best heirloom seeds and sustaining the complex ceremonies associated with rain and planting. There is also a need to bring everyone together with faith in the cycles that bring rain to nurture the corn. Dependence upon foreign practices, such as irrigation, could contravene traditions, and many traditional farmers resist this type of shift. That shift, however, is what non-Native economists believe is inevitable for Hopi farmers. A recent study prepared by economics faculty at Arizona State University and the University of North Carolina posited that climate change on the Colorado Plateau will necessarily trigger severe drought and the need for supplemental irrigation for Hopi farmers.22 This is an argument in favour of quantifying tribal water rights as soon as possible. As with all tribal water rights cases, “paper rights” must be implemented through a water project. Much of water’s economic value is tied to the level of engineering required to develop the water resource and ensure delivery to the tribal communities.
Of course, the impacts of climate change come on the heels of the vast exploitation of groundwater caused by the historic mining activities in the area. Former Hopi Tribal Chairman Vernon Masayesva now directs the Black Mesa Trust, a non-profit organized to protect tribal water, and he alleges that the mining activities caused a depletion of the Navajo Aquifer, which fed natural springs throughout the area.23 Masayesva says that, within the Hopi worldview, “all waters—rivers, groundwaters, glaciers . . . are interconnected, because Earth is like a human body and we survive with all the hundreds of bloodlines circulating through all of our body.”24 Masayesva says that the federal government and the coal company have an obligation to restore the lands and waters of the area that have been destroyed by mining. While the Hopi culture and religion are inseparably linked to water, Masayesva says that the “Western mind” sees “water as a commodity.”25 The two perspectives appear to be in tension, and yet the Hopi Tribe must adopt the latter to gain legal rights to use its water under US law.
Conclusion
What will it take to heal the land and bring the Navajo and Hopi people together for their common survival? Reconciliation requires acknowledging that the landscape and people have been altered and affected by the long-standing history of coal and uranium mining. In the 1970s, a National Sacrifice Area at the Four Corners region seemed like a logical necessity to federal policymakers and the scientists who advised them. Today, we must look at the effects of their decision as we understand the harm to the land, the change in water flow, the impact of climate change, and the increased levels of salinity and toxicity that impair human health.
An ethics of reconciliation must be crafted to restore what was wrongfully taken from Indigenous peoples. Indigenous justice traditions counsel that healing takes place at the level of mind and spirit first, and then at the level of the material world. We must imagine a better future in order to realize that future. Peace with the Other requires committing to restorative and regenerative practices rather than the exploitive practices that have driven energy resources development for so many decades.
Most of all, reconciliation requires building respectful and deliberative relationships between governments and the communities they serve. Sovereignty entails responsibility for the well-being of current and future generations. As esteemed Haudenosaunee Faithkeeper Oren Lyons asserts, this is the premise of planning for the Seventh Generation, which was a fundamental concept for the Six Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy.26 For those Indigenous Nations, peace, power and righteousness must converge in the exercise of legitimate governmental authority.
Notes
1 Charles Wilkinson refers to this as the “Big Buildup” in Fire on the Plateau: Conflict and Endurance in the American Southwest (Washington, DC: Island Press, 1999), xii–xiii.
2 Johnson v. McIntosh at 585, 587.
3 Rebecca Tsosie, “Climate Change, Sustainability, and Globalization: Charting the Future of Indigenous Environmental Self-Determination,” Environmental and Energy Law and Policy Journal 4, no. 2 (2009): 188–255, at 208.
4 On the history and consequences of uranium mining on Navajo Nation, see Rebecca Tsosie, “Indigenous Human Rights and the Ethics of Remediation: Redressing the Legacy of Radioactive Contamination for Native Peoples and Native Lands,” Santa Clara Journal of International Law 13, no. 2 (2015): 203–72.
5 See Rebecca Tsosie, “Indigenous Peoples and Epistemic Injustice: Science, Ethics, and Human Rights,” Washington Law Review 87, no. 4 (2012): 1133–201.
6 See Rebecca Tsosie, “Tribal Environmental Policy in an Era of Self-Determination: The Role of Ethics, Economics, and Traditional Ecological Knowledge,” Vermont Law Review 21 (1996): 225–333.
7 See Roger Clark, “Dam Developers Would Pump Ancient Waters for Profit,” Grand Canyon Trust blog post, June 3, 2020, https://www.grandcanyontrust.org/blog/dam-developers-pump-ancient-Little-Colorado-River-waters-profit.
8 Healing v. Jones, 174 F. Supp. 211 (D. Ariz. 1959) marks the commencement of litigation; Healing v. Jones, 210 F. Supp. 125 (1962) describes the “jointly owned” character of lands and resources subject to litigation.
9 See Josh Moore, “Justice Too Long Delayed on the Navajo Reservation: The Bennett Freeze as a Case Study in the Government’s Treatment of Native Americans,” Harvard Human Rights Journal 6 (1993): 222–29.
10 Sinclair’s oft-quoted comment appeared on the now-archived home page of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada: https://web.archive.org/web/20200513112354/https://trc.ca/index-main.html.
11 United Nations Human Rights Council, Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Efforts to Implement the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: Recognition, Reparation and Reconciliation, A/HRC/EMRIP/2019/3/Rev.1, presented during the twelfth session of the Human Rights Council, Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, July 15–19, 2019. The report was formally released on September 2, 2019.
12 The Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act of 1971 was designed to extinguish Aboriginal rights and tribal reservations within Alaska in exchange for creating corporate entities that would exploit oil and other mineral resources for economic gain. The traditional village governments survived, but they are hampered in their exercise of sovereignty by the lack of “Indian country.”
13 See Ian James, “We All Know That Water Is Life: Hopi Tribe Fighting for Access to Clean and Healthy Drinking Water,” Arizona Republic, December 20, 2020.
14 Robert Yazzie, “Life Comes from It: Navajo Justice Concepts,” New Mexico Law Review 24 (Spring 1994): 175–90.
15 See discussion in Tsosie, “Tribal Environmental Policy in an Era of Self-Determination.”
16 Margaret Walker’s 2006 Homecoming Lecture at Arizona State University is published as “Telling Truths and Restoring Moral Relations,” Metaphilosophy 41, no. 4 (2010): 525–45. For a more extensive discussion of her position, see Margaret Walker, Moral Repair (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006).
17 See Debra Utacia Krol, “California Governor Apologizes to Tribal Nations for Past Atrocities,” Indian Country Today, June 21, 2020.
18 Krol, “California Governor Apologizes.”
19 This collaborative project (“Indige-Fuse”) is funded by the National Science Foundation and evaluates energy, water, and food sustainability at the community level.
20 “Virus-Ravaged Navajo Say Coal Mines Sapped Their Drinking Water,” Bloomberg Law, June 17, 2020.
21 Ian James, “Everything Depends on the Corn: Hopi Farmers Point to Global Warming as Their Crops Wither,” Arizona Republic, December 6, 2020, 1A.
22 See James, “Everything Depends on the Corn,” citing a study by Michael Hanemann, director of Arizona State University’s Center for Environmental Economics and Sustainability Policy, and Dale Whittington, professor of environmental sciences and engineering at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.
23 Ian James, “Everything Is Drying Up: As Natural Springs on Hopi Land Decline, a Sacred Connection to Water Is Threatened,” Arizona Republic, Sunday December 13, 2020, A1.
24 James, “Everything Is Drying Up,” 7A.
25 James, “Everything Is Drying Up,” 6A.
26 Rebecca Tsosie, “Indigenous Sustainability and Resilience to Climate Extremes: Traditional Knowledge and the Systems of Survival,” Connecticut Law Review 51, no. 4 (2019): 1009–42, at 1013. See also Wallace Coffey and Rebecca Tsosie, “Rethinking the Tribal Sovereignty Doctrine: Cultural Sovereignty and the Collective Future of Indian Nations,” Stanford Law and Policy Review 12, no. 2 (Spring 2001): 191–221, at 200.
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