Digital & Print Membership
Yearly + Receive 8 free printed back issues
$420 Annually
Monthly + Receive 3 free printed back issues
$40 Monthly
Mní On Trial
Listening to Indigenous Voices on Standing Rock
For one to understand the accurate truth of Indigenous Peoples’ oral history and their present-day struggles, we must listen first. This is part of the oral history of the Oceti Šakówiŋ, shared with me by community leader Phil Two Eagle, Sicangu Treaty Council Executive Director:
“The name Oceti Šakówiŋ, meaning The Seven Council Fires, is known today as the collective name of our Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota Oyate (people)—seven distinct yet related nations bound together through ancient kinship, shared language roots, and ceremonial responsibilities. According to our elders, the name Oceti Šakówiŋ carries meaning far beyond political or tribal organization. It is rooted in the stars, the cosmos, and the sacred cycles of life. One way we received this name is from the universe itself. Our ancestors understood that the universe spirals with seven great arms, ever-turning, much like the sacred fire that brings our people together. We also inherited the name from the heavens—from the Wičháȟpi Šákowin, the Seven Stars of the Big Dipper constellation. These seven stars are a sacred teaching for our people, reminding us to live in balance, to walk the path of the Woopȟe (natural law), and to recognize that our ancestors are watching from above.
The Oceti Šakówiŋ also reflects the Seven Directions: East, South, West, North, Above, Below, and Within—the sacred center, where our spirit resides and where we light the fire. Each direction holds teachings and responsibilities, and together they make the circle of life complete. There are the Seven Sacred Stages of Life: Conception, Birth, Childhood, Adolescence, Adulthood, Elderhood, and Death (and Rebirth)—each a fire that burns in our journey, each a step in our becoming. These seven stages align with the sacred hoop of life and are honored in our ceremonies, especially those given to us by the White Buffalo Calf Woman. To be Oceti Šakówiŋ is not only to belong to the Seven Council Fires on Earth—it is to remember that we are patterned after the universe itself. Our name is a living prayer, a reflection of the stars, the spirals of creation, the sacred stages of life, and the sacred fire at the heart of every Tiwahe (family unit), every Tiospaye (extended family), and every Oyate (people).”

Mní Wíčoni means “WATER IS LIFE” in the Lakota and Dakota languages. On February 24, 2025, Standing Rock’s most essential resource of survival was on trial. Alone and at risk. Again. Since 2014, the Tribe’s water and human rights have been threatened by American corporate giant Energy Transfer (ET), and their golden child, the DAPL pipeline (The Dakota Access Pipeline).
The pipeline’s goal: Profiting $1.37+ billion per year off the lives of The Oceti Šakówiŋ and thousands of Indigenous communities, farmers, and towns in four different states (modern-day North Dakota, South Dakota, Iowa, and Illinois), and going after one world-famous Environmental NGO: Greenpeace.
Before we can even dive into the ET vs. Greenpeace trial, we must keep up with the long-standing legal battle between The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe (Oceti Šakówiŋ) and the U.S Army Corps of Engineers (USACE). This 2016 lawsuit was over the illegalities of ET’s permitless pipeline’s location and construction, residing on Sovereign inherited ancestral Tribal land, Unceded Territory and Treaty land. After years of questionable court delays and dismissals, in 2024, Standing Rock decided to file a new lawsuit against the Army Corps—for allowing the continuation of the DAPL Pipeline’s illegal transport of crude.
“The Corps of Engineers has not earned the trust of our Tribe,” Standing Rock Chairwoman Janet Alkire said in a statement announcing the appeal for their new lawsuit against the Army Corps. “We cannot rely on the Corps to properly evaluate DAPL, so we are continuing our legal efforts to protect our water and our people from this dangerous pipeline.”
The “black snake” (aka today’s crude oil) is an ancient prophecy of the Oceti Šakówiŋ. The snake carries 574,000 barrels of liquid gold per day, under and across 200 waterways. DAPL had been “re-routed from a crossing above Bismarck, ND (84% white) across the Missouri River at the mouth of the Cannonball River on the Lake Oahe reservoir, less than one-half mile upstream from The Standing Rock reservation,” explained the Tribe. In today’s world, that would be considered a severe act of Environmental Racism.
Tim Mentz, former Tribal Historic Preservation Officer, produced the most thorough literature I have read regarding the environmental and cultural resource reviews of that specific territory. Read Mentz’s letter to Washington DC’s Deputy Assistant Secretary of Indian Affairs. It is a crucial document that has been purposely and strategically discredited by Energy Transfer, its executives and attorneys.
As Standing Rock explains, “The 1851 Treaty of Fort Laramie guaranteed Unceded Treaty lands to the Oceti Šakówiŋ Oyate (The Seven Council Fires, colonially known as The Great Sioux Nation) at the crossing of the Heart River in present-day central North Dakota.”
If we were to step outside the corrupt racist structure of our Judicial system, anyone with logic would ask how the US government could allow a corporation to bypass an industrial-scale easement, profit billions, and go after an NGO for more than half a billion dollars. To add to the chaos, many also don’t know that there was a third lawsuit playing in the background, dancing with the other two. In the 2019 lawsuit, North Dakota State won $28 million, which to many, proved that the state believed USACE was responsible for the financial losses and for the costs of law enforcement to quell the Standing Rock protests. ET’s theory was that Greenpeace was responsible for all the financial losses and delays impacting DAPL’s construction, when in actuality there were two other lawsuits challenging the pipeline’s claims. This fight for Indigenous human rights had involved three active lawsuits with many complex layers, designed this way to confuse us all.
Coincidentally, about a week after Greenpeace lost, Standing Rock’s case was put on the back burner again by Federal Judge Boasberg. He dismissed their lawsuit and announced they would have to wait for USACE’s complete environmental study, which after five years, is still ongoing. On June 7, Standing Rock filed a notice of appeal signaling their intent to ask the DC Circuit Court of Appeals to review Judge Boasberg’s decision to dismiss their lawsuit. An investigative journalist should investigate why USACE’s environmental study is taking so long. Something is fishy.
Whilst Standing Rock’s lawsuit was playing in the background like a colonial ghost story, this past February-March 2025, I had the chance to witness the monstrous case: Energy Transfer (ET) vs. Greenpeace fund, Greenpeace International, and Greenpeace Inc. Most people still don’t know the legal breakdown of ET’s SLAPP suits against Greenpeace. You can catch up here.
I have yet to see this important statement issued by The Standing Rock Sioux Tribal Chairwoman, Janet Alkire, in any mainstream media outlet. They had a lot to share about the case, yet no one seems to have read it. To stay afloat, one must learn what the Indigenous communities, especially the elders, are saying. This is what helped steer me in the right direction in the midst of the information war that Energy Transfer and our legal system were creating and injecting into all three lawsuits pertaining to the pipeline.
With so much at stake, I wanted to witness everything firsthand, so I tagged alongside my close friend and renowned environmental justice attorney and corporate prisoner Steven Donziger who was meeting up with other legendary attorneys, Mandela’s Martin Garbus, The Farmers’ lawyer Sarah Vogel, Water Protector Legal’s Natali Segovia, and Environmental lawyer Scott Badenoch, to name a few. Judge Gion had declined all Press requests, which led the trial monitoring group to form a website to provide expert independent legal analysis to the public. There are many alarming findings that the Trial Monitors listed on their website, under “Trial Monitoring Statements.” The one that really bothers me is:
Prejudicial Mailers and Advertising: Energy Transfer or its affiliates appear to have distributed materials—including mailers and advertisements—in the jury catchment area and in other local 2 areas of the state portraying Greenpeace and the Dakota Access Pipeline protests in a negative light. These materials appear designed to sway public opinion and influence prospective jurors against Greenpeace. We are also concerned that Judge Gion has thus far denied a motion by Greenpeace to take discovery on who exactly paid for the mailers and ads, essentially denying the rights of the organization to motion the court for a remedy based on all relevant information.
Back in the courtroom, I observed the plaintiffs’ lead attorney, Gibson Dunn and Crutcher’s Trey Cox (Fossil Fuel’s favorite law firm), aggressively take over the linguistics of this case, arrogantly discrediting the Tribe’s Indigenous rights and existence.
On March 19, 2025, the oil town’s 9-member jury found Greenpeace guilty of nearly double the amount of the claims, $666 million to be exact. Interesting number. Despite my state of shock, my courtroom flashbacks reminded me of the jury’s PTSD stories. A local cafe owner had shared that the jurors had lived through 100k+ “strangers” coming and going through their towns, turning their daily lives upside down. The jurors’ verdict was an emotional symptom of colonial generational trauma bonding. The bias was oozing. I saw it in their eyes and facial expressions. I had never seen a jury collectively take such an extreme emotional vendetta on an NGO. When Greenpeace was charged with the maximum allowed punitive damages, it was clear to everyone that this legal fight had just morphed into a massive financial legal battle.
This shook the entire Environmental Justice community to its core and was another racist slap to The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and the entire Indigenous community of Turtle Island (aka The USA). As for Greenpeace, they have made it very clear to me and the public that, “If we have to take this all the way to the Supreme Court, we will!”
As Paul Paz y Miño, Associate Director at Amazon Watch, said so passionately whilst being interviewed by Steven Donziger next to the Missouri River, “It is the mighty corporations flexing their muscles to abuse the legal system… Greenpeace is not the only one on trial. Everyone is on trial. Standing Rock, all the organizations that stood with them. Greenpeace is just the sacrificial lamb because Energy Transfer wants its pound of flesh, and it thinks it can bankrupt Greenpeace and terrify the other organizations alongside it.”
Many unanswered questions were flying outside the courtroom and are still blank today.
How can 9 people define so much for Indigenous land and water rights?
Will the outcome of this case influence The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s chances to win their own legal battles?
Can peaceful protests be banned or severely challenged in this country?
Will transparent journalism be at risk of existing?
Will our freedom of speech vanish indefinitely?
Will one of the oldest and most notable American Environmental organizations in the world cease to exist?
Everything about this trial had been designed to fail. The cherry on top of it all, was when I found out how political it really was, as ET’s Kelcy Warren, was also one of Donald Trump’s top supporters, donating approximately $16 million+ to his presidential campaigns, fundraisers, and Trump groups, between 2016-2024. At one point, Trump even had direct financial ties to ET, by owning shares in the pipeline’s stocks.
This trial was a circus. A very expensive one. ET plucked Greenpeace out of the anti-DAPL movement’s hat, strategically ignoring that there were 100k+ Tribes, Nations, Indigenous groups, and allies from all over the world (veterans, activists, attorneys, scientists, religious groups, NGOs, famous musicians, celebrities, and even a president) coming together. This became one of the most united international solidarity movements in the world, led by a National Indigenous uprising.
In 2016, The UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues visited Standing Rock and issued a statement and report. This past April, the Trial Monitors sent a letter requesting for an independent United Nations human rights expert to “investigate ‘flagrant and repeated’ due process violations in the proceeding that resulted in an unprecedented $600 million verdict against the environmental organization.”
Steven Donziger weighed in: “We believe it is critical that people all over the world pay close attention to what is probably the most important legal case in the world related to the fossil fuel industry’s efforts to squelch free speech as a way to try to stifle the climate movement. The showdown between Greenpeace and Energy Transfer will go a long way toward determining whether our courts have the fortitude to push back against industry’s abuse of power and its targeting of Indigenous Peoples and the environment. As trial monitors, our purpose is to document the due process violations at trial and bring them into the public domain.”
This case led me to meet incredible souls and community leaders who were gracious enough to share their wisdom. “There is a complete disconnect between the colonial world and our Lakota way of Life. There is no accurate way to translate our way of life into ‘written documents or laws.’ The colonial way, it doesn’t belong to us. Our stories are passed down from our ancestors through oral history and teachings. We live by our Lakota way of life. Our connection is deep rooted in the land and mother earth. It is simple but hard to put into words. The colonial world likes to place us in boxes and for our people it is a worldview,” explained Jen Martel, a member of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, community organizer at Standing Rock, Sitting Bull College Visitor Center Coordinator, and Filmmaker of “Oyate.”
Father Floberg from St. James Episcopal church and longtime community member at Standing Rock, happened to sit next to me in court for most of the time I was there. One of the first things he shared with me was the ongoing frustrations he had with the courtroom, as everyone kept ignoring: “That unceded territory is HISTORIC TRIBAL TERRITORY. It was unlawfully ‘taken’ when the United States Congress broke the 1868 Treaty as it took the Black Hills and this territory. That act by Congress was unlawful, without remedy being provided for the unceded territory and an unacceptable remedy for the Black Hills theft itself. The distinction is critical. Reservation Land is not the same as Historic Tribal Territory.”
Today, Indigenous Nations and their descendants express that their very existence, including their oral history and Tribal law, is in jeopardy. They are struggling to survive and to be properly taught by the US educational system, let alone to be recognized and adopted in the US Federal Judicial system, or any US court for that matter.
The elders have a lot to express, and they want to be heard. It is up to each and every one of us to open our ears and offer our hands in support. The fight continues.
{
"article":
{
"title" : "Mní On Trial: Listening to Indigenous Voices on Standing Rock",
"author" : "Giada Lubomirski",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/mni-on-trial-lakota-dakota-nakota-greenpeace-and-energy-transfer",
"date" : "2025-07-20 17:35:46 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mni-on-trial-thumb.jpg",
"excerpt" : "For one to understand the accurate truth of Indigenous Peoples’ oral history and their present-day struggles, we must listen first. This is part of the oral history of the Oceti Šakówiŋ, shared with me by community leader Phil Two Eagle, Sicangu Treaty Council Executive Director:",
"content" : "For one to understand the accurate truth of Indigenous Peoples’ oral history and their present-day struggles, we must listen first. This is part of the oral history of the Oceti Šakówiŋ, shared with me by community leader Phil Two Eagle, Sicangu Treaty Council Executive Director:“The name Oceti Šakówiŋ, meaning The Seven Council Fires, is known today as the collective name of our Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota Oyate (people)—seven distinct yet related nations bound together through ancient kinship, shared language roots, and ceremonial responsibilities. According to our elders, the name Oceti Šakówiŋ carries meaning far beyond political or tribal organization. It is rooted in the stars, the cosmos, and the sacred cycles of life. One way we received this name is from the universe itself. Our ancestors understood that the universe spirals with seven great arms, ever-turning, much like the sacred fire that brings our people together. We also inherited the name from the heavens—from the Wičháȟpi Šákowin, the Seven Stars of the Big Dipper constellation. These seven stars are a sacred teaching for our people, reminding us to live in balance, to walk the path of the Woopȟe (natural law), and to recognize that our ancestors are watching from above.The Oceti Šakówiŋ also reflects the Seven Directions: East, South, West, North, Above, Below, and Within—the sacred center, where our spirit resides and where we light the fire. Each direction holds teachings and responsibilities, and together they make the circle of life complete. There are the Seven Sacred Stages of Life: Conception, Birth, Childhood, Adolescence, Adulthood, Elderhood, and Death (and Rebirth)—each a fire that burns in our journey, each a step in our becoming. These seven stages align with the sacred hoop of life and are honored in our ceremonies, especially those given to us by the White Buffalo Calf Woman. To be Oceti Šakówiŋ is not only to belong to the Seven Council Fires on Earth—it is to remember that we are patterned after the universe itself. Our name is a living prayer, a reflection of the stars, the spirals of creation, the sacred stages of life, and the sacred fire at the heart of every Tiwahe (family unit), every Tiospaye (extended family), and every Oyate (people).”Mní Wíčoni means “WATER IS LIFE” in the Lakota and Dakota languages. On February 24, 2025, Standing Rock’s most essential resource of survival was on trial. Alone and at risk. Again. Since 2014, the Tribe’s water and human rights have been threatened by American corporate giant Energy Transfer (ET), and their golden child, the DAPL pipeline (The Dakota Access Pipeline).The pipeline’s goal: Profiting $1.37+ billion per year off the lives of The Oceti Šakówiŋ and thousands of Indigenous communities, farmers, and towns in four different states (modern-day North Dakota, South Dakota, Iowa, and Illinois), and going after one world-famous Environmental NGO: Greenpeace.Before we can even dive into the ET vs. Greenpeace trial, we must keep up with the long-standing legal battle between The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe (Oceti Šakówiŋ) and the U.S Army Corps of Engineers (USACE). This 2016 lawsuit was over the illegalities of ET’s permitless pipeline’s location and construction, residing on Sovereign inherited ancestral Tribal land, Unceded Territory and Treaty land. After years of questionable court delays and dismissals, in 2024, Standing Rock decided to file a new lawsuit against the Army Corps—for allowing the continuation of the DAPL Pipeline’s illegal transport of crude.“The Corps of Engineers has not earned the trust of our Tribe,” Standing Rock Chairwoman Janet Alkire said in a statement announcing the appeal for their new lawsuit against the Army Corps. “We cannot rely on the Corps to properly evaluate DAPL, so we are continuing our legal efforts to protect our water and our people from this dangerous pipeline.”The “black snake” (aka today’s crude oil) is an ancient prophecy of the Oceti Šakówiŋ. The snake carries 574,000 barrels of liquid gold per day, under and across 200 waterways. DAPL had been “re-routed from a crossing above Bismarck, ND (84% white) across the Missouri River at the mouth of the Cannonball River on the Lake Oahe reservoir, less than one-half mile upstream from The Standing Rock reservation,” explained the Tribe. In today’s world, that would be considered a severe act of Environmental Racism.Tim Mentz, former Tribal Historic Preservation Officer, produced the most thorough literature I have read regarding the environmental and cultural resource reviews of that specific territory. Read Mentz’s letter to Washington DC’s Deputy Assistant Secretary of Indian Affairs. It is a crucial document that has been purposely and strategically discredited by Energy Transfer, its executives and attorneys.As Standing Rock explains, “The 1851 Treaty of Fort Laramie guaranteed Unceded Treaty lands to the Oceti Šakówiŋ Oyate (The Seven Council Fires, colonially known as The Great Sioux Nation) at the crossing of the Heart River in present-day central North Dakota.”If we were to step outside the corrupt racist structure of our Judicial system, anyone with logic would ask how the US government could allow a corporation to bypass an industrial-scale easement, profit billions, and go after an NGO for more than half a billion dollars. To add to the chaos, many also don’t know that there was a third lawsuit playing in the background, dancing with the other two. In the 2019 lawsuit, North Dakota State won $28 million, which to many, proved that the state believed USACE was responsible for the financial losses and for the costs of law enforcement to quell the Standing Rock protests. ET’s theory was that Greenpeace was responsible for all the financial losses and delays impacting DAPL’s construction, when in actuality there were two other lawsuits challenging the pipeline’s claims. This fight for Indigenous human rights had involved three active lawsuits with many complex layers, designed this way to confuse us all.Coincidentally, about a week after Greenpeace lost, Standing Rock’s case was put on the back burner again by Federal Judge Boasberg. He dismissed their lawsuit and announced they would have to wait for USACE’s complete environmental study, which after five years, is still ongoing. On June 7, Standing Rock filed a notice of appeal signaling their intent to ask the DC Circuit Court of Appeals to review Judge Boasberg’s decision to dismiss their lawsuit. An investigative journalist should investigate why USACE’s environmental study is taking so long. Something is fishy.Whilst Standing Rock’s lawsuit was playing in the background like a colonial ghost story, this past February-March 2025, I had the chance to witness the monstrous case: Energy Transfer (ET) vs. Greenpeace fund, Greenpeace International, and Greenpeace Inc. Most people still don’t know the legal breakdown of ET’s SLAPP suits against Greenpeace. You can catch up here.I have yet to see this important statement issued by The Standing Rock Sioux Tribal Chairwoman, Janet Alkire, in any mainstream media outlet. They had a lot to share about the case, yet no one seems to have read it. To stay afloat, one must learn what the Indigenous communities, especially the elders, are saying. This is what helped steer me in the right direction in the midst of the information war that Energy Transfer and our legal system were creating and injecting into all three lawsuits pertaining to the pipeline.With so much at stake, I wanted to witness everything firsthand, so I tagged alongside my close friend and renowned environmental justice attorney and corporate prisoner Steven Donziger who was meeting up with other legendary attorneys, Mandela’s Martin Garbus, The Farmers’ lawyer Sarah Vogel, Water Protector Legal’s Natali Segovia, and Environmental lawyer Scott Badenoch, to name a few. Judge Gion had declined all Press requests, which led the trial monitoring group to form a website to provide expert independent legal analysis to the public. There are many alarming findings that the Trial Monitors listed on their website, under “Trial Monitoring Statements.” The one that really bothers me is:Prejudicial Mailers and Advertising: Energy Transfer or its affiliates appear to have distributed materials—including mailers and advertisements—in the jury catchment area and in other local 2 areas of the state portraying Greenpeace and the Dakota Access Pipeline protests in a negative light. These materials appear designed to sway public opinion and influence prospective jurors against Greenpeace. We are also concerned that Judge Gion has thus far denied a motion by Greenpeace to take discovery on who exactly paid for the mailers and ads, essentially denying the rights of the organization to motion the court for a remedy based on all relevant information.Back in the courtroom, I observed the plaintiffs’ lead attorney, Gibson Dunn and Crutcher’s Trey Cox (Fossil Fuel’s favorite law firm), aggressively take over the linguistics of this case, arrogantly discrediting the Tribe’s Indigenous rights and existence.On March 19, 2025, the oil town’s 9-member jury found Greenpeace guilty of nearly double the amount of the claims, $666 million to be exact. Interesting number. Despite my state of shock, my courtroom flashbacks reminded me of the jury’s PTSD stories. A local cafe owner had shared that the jurors had lived through 100k+ “strangers” coming and going through their towns, turning their daily lives upside down. The jurors’ verdict was an emotional symptom of colonial generational trauma bonding. The bias was oozing. I saw it in their eyes and facial expressions. I had never seen a jury collectively take such an extreme emotional vendetta on an NGO. When Greenpeace was charged with the maximum allowed punitive damages, it was clear to everyone that this legal fight had just morphed into a massive financial legal battle.This shook the entire Environmental Justice community to its core and was another racist slap to The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and the entire Indigenous community of Turtle Island (aka The USA). As for Greenpeace, they have made it very clear to me and the public that, “If we have to take this all the way to the Supreme Court, we will!”As Paul Paz y Miño, Associate Director at Amazon Watch, said so passionately whilst being interviewed by Steven Donziger next to the Missouri River, “It is the mighty corporations flexing their muscles to abuse the legal system… Greenpeace is not the only one on trial. Everyone is on trial. Standing Rock, all the organizations that stood with them. Greenpeace is just the sacrificial lamb because Energy Transfer wants its pound of flesh, and it thinks it can bankrupt Greenpeace and terrify the other organizations alongside it.”Many unanswered questions were flying outside the courtroom and are still blank today.How can 9 people define so much for Indigenous land and water rights?Will the outcome of this case influence The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s chances to win their own legal battles?Can peaceful protests be banned or severely challenged in this country?Will transparent journalism be at risk of existing?Will our freedom of speech vanish indefinitely?Will one of the oldest and most notable American Environmental organizations in the world cease to exist?Everything about this trial had been designed to fail. The cherry on top of it all, was when I found out how political it really was, as ET’s Kelcy Warren, was also one of Donald Trump’s top supporters, donating approximately $16 million+ to his presidential campaigns, fundraisers, and Trump groups, between 2016-2024. At one point, Trump even had direct financial ties to ET, by owning shares in the pipeline’s stocks.This trial was a circus. A very expensive one. ET plucked Greenpeace out of the anti-DAPL movement’s hat, strategically ignoring that there were 100k+ Tribes, Nations, Indigenous groups, and allies from all over the world (veterans, activists, attorneys, scientists, religious groups, NGOs, famous musicians, celebrities, and even a president) coming together. This became one of the most united international solidarity movements in the world, led by a National Indigenous uprising.In 2016, The UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues visited Standing Rock and issued a statement and report. This past April, the Trial Monitors sent a letter requesting for an independent United Nations human rights expert to “investigate ‘flagrant and repeated’ due process violations in the proceeding that resulted in an unprecedented $600 million verdict against the environmental organization.”Steven Donziger weighed in: “We believe it is critical that people all over the world pay close attention to what is probably the most important legal case in the world related to the fossil fuel industry’s efforts to squelch free speech as a way to try to stifle the climate movement. The showdown between Greenpeace and Energy Transfer will go a long way toward determining whether our courts have the fortitude to push back against industry’s abuse of power and its targeting of Indigenous Peoples and the environment. As trial monitors, our purpose is to document the due process violations at trial and bring them into the public domain.”This case led me to meet incredible souls and community leaders who were gracious enough to share their wisdom. “There is a complete disconnect between the colonial world and our Lakota way of Life. There is no accurate way to translate our way of life into ‘written documents or laws.’ The colonial way, it doesn’t belong to us. Our stories are passed down from our ancestors through oral history and teachings. We live by our Lakota way of life. Our connection is deep rooted in the land and mother earth. It is simple but hard to put into words. The colonial world likes to place us in boxes and for our people it is a worldview,” explained Jen Martel, a member of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, community organizer at Standing Rock, Sitting Bull College Visitor Center Coordinator, and Filmmaker of “Oyate.”Father Floberg from St. James Episcopal church and longtime community member at Standing Rock, happened to sit next to me in court for most of the time I was there. One of the first things he shared with me was the ongoing frustrations he had with the courtroom, as everyone kept ignoring: “That unceded territory is HISTORIC TRIBAL TERRITORY. It was unlawfully ‘taken’ when the United States Congress broke the 1868 Treaty as it took the Black Hills and this territory. That act by Congress was unlawful, without remedy being provided for the unceded territory and an unacceptable remedy for the Black Hills theft itself. The distinction is critical. Reservation Land is not the same as Historic Tribal Territory.” Today, Indigenous Nations and their descendants express that their very existence, including their oral history and Tribal law, is in jeopardy. They are struggling to survive and to be properly taught by the US educational system, let alone to be recognized and adopted in the US Federal Judicial system, or any US court for that matter.The elders have a lot to express, and they want to be heard. It is up to each and every one of us to open our ears and offer our hands in support. The fight continues."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "From Sabra & Shatila to Gaza: The UN’s Century of Failure and the Rise of Alternatives",
"author" : "Collis Browne",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/from-sabra-and-shatila-to-gaza",
"date" : "2025-09-16 10:47:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/2025_9_16_UN_Genocide_1.jpg",
"excerpt" : "On the 43rd anniversary of the massacres committed under Israeli authority at Sabra and Shatila camps in Beirut in 1982, a United Nations Commission Of Inquiry has concluded, as would any rational observer, that Israel has been committing genocide in Gaza since October 2023.",
"content" : "On the 43rd anniversary of the massacres committed under Israeli authority at Sabra and Shatila camps in Beirut in 1982, a United Nations Commission Of Inquiry has concluded, as would any rational observer, that Israel has been committing genocide in Gaza since October 2023.This is not news. It could, however, be a turning point, . The UN’s declaration cracks open the conservative West’s long-standing wall of denial about the genocidal intentions and actions of the U.S.–Israel military machine. What happens next matters.A Century of Genocidal IntentFor those who have been watching Palestine with clarity long before 2023, this genocide is not an aberration — it is the project itself. From its inception, every major Zionist leader and Israeli politician has openly articulated the goal of erasing the Indigenous people of Palestine, whether through forced expulsion or mass murder.More than a hundred years of speeches, policies, and massacres testify to this intent. The so-called “War on Gaza” is simply the most visible and livestreamed stage of an ongoing colonial project.The UN’s Empty WordsIs this UN report different? The UN has made declarative statements for decades with no action or enforcement. In 1975, the UN declared Zionism is racism, citing the “unholy alliance” between apartheid South Africa and Israel. Yet Zionists continued to enjoy privileged status across Western institutions. Since 1967, the UN has passed resolution after resolution denouncing illegal Israeli settlements on stolen Palestinian land. Still, the theft continues unchecked. In December 2022, the UN General Assembly demanded Israel end its “unlawful presence” in the Occupied Territories within one year. That deadline expires this week, September 18, 2025. Israel has ignored it completely, as expected — with no consequences. Declarations without enforcement are not justice. They are fig leaves for impunity.What Good Is the UN?The Geneva Convention obliges all states to intervene to stop and punish genocide. Yet no country has deployed forces to resist Israel’s military slaughter in Gaza. No sanctions. No accountability.If the UN cannot stop one of its own member states from carrying out genocide in full public view — in “4K” as the world watches live — then what is the UN for?The Rise of AlternativesThe cracks are widening. The government of China has announced a new Global Governance initiative, already backed by dozens of countries. Without illusions about its motivations, the concept paper at least addresses three of the UN’s structural failures: Underrepresentation of the Global South — redressing centuries of colonial imbalance. Erosion of authoritativeness — restoring the credibility of international law. Urgent need for effectiveness — accelerating stalled progress on global commitments like the UN’s 2030 Agenda. The question is not whether the UN will reform. It is whether it can survive its own irrelevance.Toward a New Global OrderFrom Sabra and Shatila to Gaza, the UN has failed to prevent — or even meaningfully resist — genocide. Its reports and resolutions pile up, while the graves in Palestine multiply.If the international body tasked with “peace and security” cannot act against the most televised genocide in history, then the world has to ask: do we need a new United Nations? Or do we need to build something entirely different — a system of global governance that serves the people, not the powerful?"
}
,
{
"title" : "France in Revolt: Debt, Uranium, and the Costs of Macron-ism",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/france-in-revolt",
"date" : "2025-09-14 22:39:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Bloquons-Tout.jpg",
"excerpt" : "France is burning again—not only on the streets of Paris but in the brittle foundations of its political economy. What began as a mass revolt against austerity and public-service cuts has become a national convulsion: roads blocked, train stations occupied, workplaces shut down under the call to “Bloquons Tout” (Let’s Block Everything). The collapse of François Bayrou’s government is only the latest symptom. At the root of the crisis is a political project: Macronism—the steady, decade-long tilt toward pro-business reforms, tax cuts for the wealthy, and austerity by default—that has hollowed out public revenue and narrowed citizens’ options.",
"content" : "France is burning again—not only on the streets of Paris but in the brittle foundations of its political economy. What began as a mass revolt against austerity and public-service cuts has become a national convulsion: roads blocked, train stations occupied, workplaces shut down under the call to “Bloquons Tout” (Let’s Block Everything). The collapse of François Bayrou’s government is only the latest symptom. At the root of the crisis is a political project: Macronism—the steady, decade-long tilt toward pro-business reforms, tax cuts for the wealthy, and austerity by default—that has hollowed out public revenue and narrowed citizens’ options.Tax Cuts, Corporate Giveaways, and Rising DebtSince Emmanuel Macron took office in 2017, his administration rolled out a suite of pro-market reforms: the abolition of the broad wealth tax (ISF), replaced by a narrower property wealth tax (IFI); a sustained reduction of the corporate tax rate to about 25%; and a raft of tax measures framed as competitiveness fixes for companies and investors. Economists now estimate that Macron’s tax cuts account for a significant share of France’s rising public debt; his reforms helped widen deficits even before pandemic and energy-shock spending pushed them higher. Today France’s public debt sits near 113–114% of GDP, and ratings agencies and markets are watching closely. (Le Monde.fr)These policies did not produce the promised boom in broadly shared prosperity. Investment did not surge enough to offset lost revenue, and growth remained sluggish. The political consequence was predictable: when the state has less to spend, the burden of balancing budgets falls on cuts to pensions, healthcare, and social programs—measures that overwhelmingly hurt working-class and vulnerable communities. (Financial Times)Pension Reform, Social Fracture, and the Limits of ConsentMacron’s government pushed a controversial pension reform—raising the retirement age from 62 to 64—which sparked nationwide strikes and mass protests in 2023. The reform illustrated a defining feature of Macronism: when public consent falters, the state still presses forward with market-oriented restructuring, deepening social fracture and anger. The pension fight didn’t create the crisis so much as expose it. (Al Jazeera)Colonial Hangover: Uranium, Energy, and GeopoliticsFrance’s energy model has long rested on nuclear power—once a source of national pride for its emission-free nature, and geopolitical independence. Behind that story, however, is another: the colonial era’s extraction of uranium in places like Niger, where French companies (notably Orano/former Areva) secured resource access under unequal terms. As Niger reasserted sovereignty over its resources after the 2023 coup and pushed back on French access, the illusion of seamless “energy independence” began to crack. Losing preferential access to Nigerien uranium has widened France’s energy insecurity and amplified the fiscal squeeze: higher energy costs, the need to secure new supply chains, and political pressure to maintain subsidies for households. The politics of extraction are now returning home. (Le Monde.fr)Climate, Austerity, and the Moral EconomyAdd the climate emergency to the mix—record heatwaves, floods, and wildfires—and the picture becomes even more bleak. Infrastructure strain and rising costs of climate adaptation demand public investment, yet the government’s posture has been to trim and reprioritize spending to satisfy markets. In practice, that means the people least responsible for climate harm—low-income communities, migrants, and precarious workers—are asked to pay the price. The result is a moral and political rupture: climate vulnerability plus fiscal austerity equals radicalized grievance. (Financial Times)A Convergence of FailuresThis is why the current uprising cannot be reduced to a single grievance. It is the convergence of multiple failures: Economic: tax policy that favored the wealthy while starving the public purse; rising debt and cuts that fall on the poor. (Financial Times) Colonial: the unraveling of extractive arrangements that once propped up French energy and power. (Le Monde.fr) Ecological: climate shocks that amplify social need even as public services are stripped back. (Financial Times) The revolt has therefore drawn a broad constituency—students, unions, public-sector workers, and neighborhoods long marginalized by austerity. It is not merely a labor dispute; it is a crisis of legitimacy for a model of governance that privatized gains and socialized pain.What Macronism Tells Us About the Global MomentFrance is a cautionary tale for democracies worldwide. When political leaders prioritize tax breaks for capital and cut public goods to placate markets, they borrow political stability against the future. The bill eventually comes due—in rising debt, in weakened social cohesion, and in violent backlash. Where resource dependencies meet neoliberal retrenchment, the risk of social rupture grows.Three Questions for What Comes Next Will the French state return to a redistributive project—taxing wealth, reclaiming revenues, and investing in climate resilience—or double down on austerity? Can movements translate street power into institutional change that addresses colonial legacies (resource sovereignty) as well as domestic inequality? Will climate policy be woven into social policy—so that adaptation and justice go hand in hand—or will they remain separate priorities, deepening vulnerability? France stands at a crossroads: continue a model that funnels benefit to capital while exposing citizens to climate and economic shocks—or imagine a social contract rooted in redistribution, de-colonial resource politics, and ecological justice. The choice will not be made in the Élysée alone. It is being argued in the streets, in workplaces, and across borders where the costs of extraction were first paid.Everything is Political—and in France today, that truth has never been clearer."
}
,
{
"title" : "Nepal’s New Reckoning",
"author" : "Tulsi Rauniyar",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/nepal-reckoning",
"date" : "2025-09-11 18:11:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/nepal1-IMG_5694.jpg",
"excerpt" : "From September 8-11, 2025, a massive popular uprising has taken place in Nepal, forcing the resignation of the Prime Minister and much of the government. We present some description and first reflections on the protests and riots, which were sparked by a social media ban and anger over government corruption and nepotism.",
"content" : "From September 8-11, 2025, a massive popular uprising has taken place in Nepal, forcing the resignation of the Prime Minister and much of the government. We present some description and first reflections on the protests and riots, which were sparked by a social media ban and anger over government corruption and nepotism.September 8In the white glare of a late summer morning, the broad avenues of Kathmandu, Nepal’s modern capital, are usually thrumming with traffic and smog. But on this sweltering day, the streets were crowded with chanting protesters, all of them demonstrating against the government of KP Sharma Oli. The largest crowd by far was made up of Gen-Z youth, most in their twenties, many still in school and college uniforms.For Nepal, such eruptions aren’t new: generations have risen before—against Rana autocrats in the 1950s, against royal rule in 1990, against King Gyanendra’s coup in 2005—only to watch hard-won freedoms erode. But for many of the protestors I spoke to, this was likely their first gathering. Their mission, organised on Instagram, Facebook, and Discord, was grand. They had gathered to protest the dismal state of the country, where the powerful and their children lived in luxury while countless Nepalis laboured abroad in countries like Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Malaysia, sending remittances home to sustain their families. They marched in loose coordination, some singing protest songs, others dancing to drumbeats, and many chanting slogans. Handmade signs bore slogans carefully daubed in black paint.The last straw had come days earlier when the government imposed a blanket ban on social media platforms, cutting off main channels through which young Nepalis expressed frustration and organised politically. Tensions were already high, fueled in part by viral chatter about “nepo-babies,” the young faces that have long been symbols of privilege fast-tracked into positions of power because of their family connections. For Nepal’s youth, social media became a stage to mock them, question their merit, and call out a system where politics often feels like a family business.As the protesters pushed past the barricades outside Parliament, the police unexpectedly fell back rather than delivering the usual baton charge. A few tear gas canisters hissed through the air, and a lone water cannon swept the crowd, but the confrontation seemed restrained. People snapped selfies amid the haze, their chants echoing off the old brick walls, and for a brief moment, it felt almost ordinary, as if the protest might remain just another turbulent day in Kathmandu.According to reports, a cluster of older men mumbled about storming Parliament, while a few young riders, adrenaline surging, tore recklessly through the crowd on motorbikes, shouting insults. Near the complex itself, the energy shifted, protesters began hammering at the outer walls, some scrambling up the gates as flames flickered near the main entrance. The Armed Police Force advanced, their body armour and riot shields glinting under the dimming light, first launching tear gas canisters, then rubber bullets. In moments, the demonstration’s creative, almost celebratory tone disintegrated. Rocks and debris flew back toward the police lines. Gunfire—allegedly live rounds—cracked above the din. Chaos engulfed Kathmandu’s political heart.Videos soon flooded social media of unarmed students in school uniforms bleeding from head wounds, men collapsing unconscious, and disturbing claims that security forces had even fired tear gas into hospital grounds and beat the injured. What began as students chanting against corruption was quickly slipping into something far more volatile.By nightfall, nineteen people were dead in Kathmandu—a toll that already exceeded the casualties from Nepal’s 2006 People’s Movement, which had taken nineteen days to claim thirteen lives. Hospitals across the capital struggled with hundreds of injured protesters, many still in school uniforms. Blood banks reported critical shortages as medical staff worked through the night, treating gunshot wounds and head injuries from what had begun, just hours earlier, as a peaceful demonstration. Across the rest of Nepal, deaths and injuries were also reported, though full numbers remain unrecorded as events continue to unfold.The scale of the violence was unprecedented in Nepal’s modern democratic history. Even during the monarchy’s final, desperate attempts to maintain power nearly two decades earlier, the state had not deployed lethal force with such devastating efficiency against its own citizens. For a generation that had known only the republic, however flawed, the sight of young people bleeding in the streets represented a profound rupture in their understanding of what their government was capable of.To understand why thousands of teenagers and twenty-somethings would brave tear gas and rubber bullets, one must consider a long history of frustrated hopes for reform. Nearly two decades after the civil war ended, Prachanda, the former Maoist insurgent, once seemed a beacon of change. Millions voted for him, hoping for a fairer voice for the marginalised, a more just Nepal. But hope gave way to compromise, personal gain, and the slow churn of the same familiar leaders. The constitution, progressive on paper, was watered down. A new constitution, progressive in Nepal’s historical context, was stalled and diluted, and subsequent elections delivered a familiar cycle. The same discredited leaders rotating through power, swapped like pieces on a chessboard, their promises of reform fading with each turn.Public services remain poor. Tax burdens are high. Corruption scandals implicating politicians, bureaucrats, and businessmen piled up like grim milestones in the failure of the state. For decades, Nepal’s elites had looted land, siphoned public funds, and promised reforms that never came, leaving ordinary citizens disillusioned.It is this long pattern of systemic rot that now fuels the anger spilling onto Kathmandu’s streets—the young protesters demanding, in word and in action, that Nepal finally deliver on the change that generations have been promised but never seen.September 9The smell hit you first—acrid smoke from burning tires laced with petrol, hanging in Kathmandu’s September air like a toxic fog. Dawn on September 9th brought no respite. If anything, the deaths of nineteen protesters had transformed grief into something more volatile. Thousands defied hastily imposed curfews, emerging into streets still lingering with smoke from the previous day’s violence. What had begun as a youth-led movement against corruption now metastasised into something broader and more destructive—an utter rejection of Nepal’s political establishment.The targets were systematic. Party offices, politicians’ residences, and government buildings all came under attack. By afternoon, thick columns of smoke rose across the Kathmandu Valley, and the tint in the sky shifted from clear blue to a smoky haze that hung over the entire capital. Tribhuvan International Airport suspended operations, diverting flights as the capital descended into chaos. In the newer ministerial quarters south of the city, helicopters shuttled back and forth, evacuating officials in what appeared to be a tacit admission that the government could no longer hold pressure.The political collapse was swift and total. Ministers resigned in cascading waves, following the home minister, who had tendered his resignation the previous evening. Opposition parliamentarians abandoned their posts en masse, demanding fresh elections. By three o’clock in the afternoon, even K.P. Sharma Oli, in his third stint as prime minister and renowned for his political durability, announced his resignation and fled to Dubai.But resignation could not restore order. As the day moved, things spiralled completely out of control.This was no longer the Gen Z protestors of the previous day. In their place, an unruly mob surged through the streets. Outside Singha Durbar, Kathmandu’s sprawling government hub, protesters smashed windows, looted buildings, and seized weapons from the police as they pushed deeper into the complex. In the chaos, prisoners were freed, fires consumed the President’s residence, the Supreme Court alongside Parliament, and police stations burned alongside shops. The line between symbol and target had vanished. In just forty-eight hours, Nepal had witnessed its bloodiest civil unrest in modern memory, and the civilian government had unravelled before the nation’s eyes.“This is not us,” the Gen-Z groups leading the movement, Hami Nepal, posted on their social media. “Our struggle is for justice, dignity, and a better Nepal, not for chaos and theft.”Only well into the night, the Army chief appeared, urging restraint and calm. The military would be deployed to restore order.September 10All this upheaval would have been unimaginable even a month ago.A heavy, almost unnatural silence hung over the city. Curfew had been imposed, the streets were empty, and the Army patrolled in rigid lines. The roar of burning tires, the chants that shook walls, and the smoke that had choked the air yesterday had faded, leaving only a lingering haze and the metallic tang of uncertainty. Sunlight struggled through the smog, casting the streets in a dim, uneasy glow. The city felt suspended, caught between yesterday’s chaos and whatever tomorrow might bring, and we awoke with nothing but questions and the weight of uncertainty pressing down on every corner.The Nepal Army still mans checkpoints across Kathmandu, its soldiers stationed at every major intersection. Any gathering of more than a handful of people is broken up, an officer steps forward, offers an unmistakable “move on,” and the cluster dissolves.Questions hung in the air with the smoke. Who would answer for the bloodshed? Who now held authority? And in the absence of clear leadership, how would life move forward? The deaths of more than thirty protesters could not go unanswered. Yet even among those who had demanded change, the scale of destruction stirred unease. Nobody could say who truly held power, or what would come next.The revolution’s fever has broken; now comes the harder, less visible work. The only institutions left standing, the Presidency and the Army, have invited Gen-Z representatives to the table to sketch a path forward. But even in these early overtures, the Army’s hand is visible, its preferences for who might lead flickering through measured, strategic negotiation.Gen-Z in Nepal remains unmoored, bound more by digital fluency than by shared leadership or vision. Amid the chaos of Discord debates and clashing ideas, the movement is experimenting with ways to assert influence in a leaderless uprising. On a bustling Discord server, young protesters held their own vote for an interim leader, selecting Sushila Karki, Nepal’s first female Chief Justice. The proposal followed an extensive discussion on the platform, lasting nearly five hours, where over 10,000 participants shared their opinions. The server buzzed with debate, dissent, and deliberation, a digital agora where ideas clashed and alliances formed, revealing both the potential and uncertainties of a leaderless uprising. Other names, such as Balen Shah, Kathmandu’s independent mayor who rose from rapper to reform-minded politician, and Harka Sampang, Dharan’s grassroots-focused mayor, also surfaced in discussions, signalling the generation’s appetite for leaders who break from the recycled elite and embody accountability, visibility, and boldness. Though no formal appointment has been made, these debates offer a glimpse of a generation seeking new pathways, negotiating authority and vision in real time.This is the third great convulsion to shake South Asia since 2022—after Sri Lanka and Bangladesh—prompting some observers to whisper of a ‘South-Asian Spring,’ a phrase that carries the echo of the Arab Spring’s long shadow. The Nepali youth-led uprising has even borrowed the aesthetics of dissent from Indonesia as protesters waved the Straw Hat Pirates flag from One Piece, an emblem that has become a shared shorthand for rebellion in both countries. In Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina’s government fell to similar youth-led protests just months earlier; in Sri Lanka, the 2022 uprising forced out the Rajapaksa dynasty. The same fault line ran across the region, crooked governments, restless citizens, and revolt spread across borders.Yet across and within these territories, the road ahead remains murky, the outcomes anything but certain. Bangladesh’s interim government struggles to reform entrenched systems. Sri Lanka’s new leadership has already retreated from promises that once stirred hope. These movements have excelled at toppling regimes but have struggled to build lasting alternatives.Nepal now faces the same daunting test its neighbours have confronted, struggling to turn a swell of popular fury into durable political reform rather than merely swapping one weary cadre of power brokers for another. Whether this generational uprising can finally crack the cycle of disappointment that has long defined South Asian politics, or whether it will join the list of movements that changed everything and nothing at all.September 11By Thursday morning, steady rain slicked Kathmandu’s streets, but the scars of upheaval were impossible to miss. Charred cars leaned against curbs, and the husks of looted buildings smouldered faintly under the drizzle. The capital was calm, almost eerily so, yet the quiet felt provisional, like a held breath. With the prime minister and his cabinet gone, Parliament effectively leaderless, and ministries shuttered, Nepal now stands without a functioning civilian government. The President and the Army, the only intact institutions, continue to act as de facto authorities, signalling interest in forming an interim arrangement. The old guard has vanished, leaving a power vacuum that multiple actors with competing interests are eager to fill. Political parties that seemed fractured just days ago are quietly regrouping, issuing statements of solidarity with Gen Z to distance themselves from their past complicity. Opportunists linger in the shadows, hoping to redirect the uprising’s momentum for personal gain. At the same time, misinformation spreads online, clouding clarity and amplifying confusion. Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki is seen as a frontrunner. Still, no consensus has been reached among protest groups, leaving the country in a state of suspended expectation.The old guard has vanished, leaving a power vacuum that multiple actors with competing interests are eager to fill. Political parties that seemed fractured just days ago are quietly regrouping, issuing statements of solidarity with Gen Z to distance themselves from their past complicity. Opportunists linger in the shadows, hoping to redirect the uprising’s momentum for personal gain. At the same time, misinformation spreads online, clouding clarity and amplifying confusion. After days of silence, Nepal’s President Ram Chandra Paudel issued a statement on Thursday assuring citizens that every effort is being made to navigate the crisis and find a way forward within the constitutional framework. Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki is seen as a frontrunner, but no consensus has been reached among protest groups, leaving the country in a state of suspended expectation."
}
]
}