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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" : "Mercy Over Speed: Revolutionizing Our Political Imagination",
"author" : "Sue Ariza",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/mercy-over-speed",
"date" : "2025-12-11 13:40:00 -0500",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Mercy_Speed.jpg",
"excerpt" : "2025 was a masterclass in haste.",
"content" : "2025 was a masterclass in haste.Policies rushed to enact a merciless agenda that benefit only the few—President Donald Trump scrapped Biden’s AI executive order within hours of taking office, wiping out safety and transparency requirements as we enter a new digital age. Immigration officials were ordered to quadruple immigration arrests overnight. Food assistance was frozen while billions in relief funds sat unused; hunger used as a pawn in the longest government shutdown in American history. Entire communities pushed not just to autopilot, but to survival—by algorithms that cannot see them, by bureaucracies that cannot pause long enough to understand them, by political actors who confuse immediacy with leadership.Of course, the real crisis isn’t speed on its own. It’s what speed erases: attention, nuance, reflection, and the fundamental truth that human beings are not statistics or administrative burdens. Perhaps nowhere was this clearer than in the State Department’s human rights reports earlier this year. In the name of “streamlining,” references to prison abuse, LGBTQIA+ persecution, and attacks on human rights defenders were quietly removed. The language was technocratic—reduce redundancy, tidy up the narrative—but the effect was ideological: whole communities and categories of suffering erased from national memory.Because the truth is, what speed strategically, ruthlessly, obliterates is the one crucial political practice we need most: mercy.Our world has taught us to think of mercy in opposition to speed, too soft for our lived realities, though it’s anything but that: Mercy is the commitment to respond to harm, conflict, or complexity with clarity rather than panic—with discernment instead of reflex. Mercy is the refusal to collapse a person, an idea, or a crisis into something smaller than it is. Mercy is political imagination: the capacity to see beyond what urgency allows and stay with one another long enough to resist the reflexes that turn disagreement into instant judgment—so we can listen before we attack or defend.But what does mercy actually demand of us? For us to reclaim it politically, we first must understand what it means and how it offers a counter-rhythm to our frantic culture of speed and instant gratification.The word itself tells a story. Mercy comes from the Latin merces—wages, payment, the price of goods. Ancient Romans understood it as a transaction. But early Christians shifted the word toward the sacred: the spiritual reward for showing kindness where cruelty was expected. They moved a word about the marketplace into a vocabulary of grace.Judaism’s rachamim, Islam’s rahma, Buddhism’s karuṇā, and Hinduism’s dayā all insist on the same truth: mercy is a way of recognizing the sacredness in others.That transformation mirrors what mercy asks of us now: to move beyond the logic of exchange, beyond what is earned or owed. It asks us to look at someone who has caused pain, and instead of asking What do they deserve? ask, What does healing require here? It is seeing beyond someone’s worst moment and choosing curiosity over condemnation.But mercy is more than individual forgiveness. It is a way of moving through the world that assumes people are larger than their failures; that redemption remains possible; that, importantly, time is not a scarce resource, but something we can afford to give. Mercy requires attention—what French philosopher Simone Weil called “the rarest and purest form of generosity.” It is why American novelist James Baldwin described love as an active emotion: the daily labor of truly seeing another person, especially when the systems around us tell us to look away.The problem, however, is that attention is precisely what our culture has made almost impossible to give. We are overstimulated, overextended, algorithmically hijacked, not only bearing witness to incredible amounts of suffering, but scrolling past it. We don’t refuse mercy because we’re cruel. We refuse it because we’ve built a world that makes stopping feel unimaginable—impractical.This is why mercy is not opposed to speed; it is opposed to false urgency. There are moments when mercy requires swift, decisive intervention. The problem is not action—it’s reaction: the unexamined acceleration that mistakes immediacy for moral clarity and treats nuance as an inconvenience.Consider how the culture of speed is destabilizing basic public systems. Take the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) that feeds more than 42 million Americans. This year, households faced unprecedented threats to their benefits—not because their needs had changed, not because the money didn’t exist, but because the administration chose to let billions in contingency funds sit untouched. The crisis wasn’t a failure of capacity. It was a political choice dressed up as inevitability.Or look at the rush to implement AI—a race happening not because anyone has thought deeply about what these systems are for, but because companies fear being the last to adopt them. Across industries, AI is being plugged into hiring platforms, healthcare systems, education tools, corporate workflows, and crisis-response mechanisms, often with little understanding of the consequences. “Innovation” has become a justification to move faster than ethics, oversight, or even common sense can keep up. In that scramble to avoid falling behind, speed becomes a substitute for understanding what people actually need and for the mercy that governance requires.A merciful politics would insist that deliberation is not inefficiency but protection, and that slowing down is an ethical requirement. Because the stakes of leadership and governance without it are real: if AI systems are going to help determine who gets hired, who gets healthcare, who receives support, which students get flagged for discipline, then refusing to slow down is not neutrality—it is a political choice with human costs.Our addiction to speed also shapes how we respond to political disagreement. Our culture no longer rewards thinking or meaningful conversation. Instead, it rewards reacting. Watch how career Democrats responded to New York Assembly member Zohran Mamdani’s mayoral campaign in November. Rather than engaging with his proposals on housing, healthcare, or municipal governance, establishment voices moved immediately to demonization. Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer withheld his endorsement entirely. His ideas required discussion, which takes time and attention. His vision challenged party orthodoxy, which requires deliberation to refute or incorporate. Instead of dialogue, we see instant censure, moral panic, and swift punishment.The speed of the response is the point. It signals that dissent is tolerable only when it can be quickly absorbed or quickly dismissed. Ideas that require conversation are treated as threats simply because they resist rapid processing. The issue isn’t whether Mamdani’s proposals are correct (and of course, it remains to be seen how they will actually be implemented); it’s that the reflex to demonize rather than debate reveals a political culture that has forgotten how to think collectively.We see this punitive speed logic everywhere. Students disciplined for language before conversations can happen. Social movements judged by headlines rather than the work. Communities criminalized in real time by social media cycles that flatten context into consumable outrage. We’ve built a society quicker to punish than to understand, quicker to condemn than to contextualize.But mercy could help us move differently. Mercy would refuse to relegate a person or an idea to a caricature simply because the truth requires time. Mercy asks us to hold uncertainty long enough to respond with discernment rather than reflex. It asks us to think—together.Legal scholar Matthias Mahlmann writes that dignity is “subversive,” an insistence that every human life carries irreducible worth. But dignity has a temporal requirement: you cannot witness another person’s humanity at speed. You cannot attend to the complexity of a life if you’re only interested in the fastest possible outcome.This is why systems built around optimization always feel so violent. Algorithmic welfare reviews, automated policing, real-time public shaming—all of them demand that human beings be compressed into categories that can be processed quickly. The violence isn’t just in the outcome; it’s in the refusal of attention itself.Mercy and dignity are inseparable. Dignity names the inherent worth that every person carries; mercy is the discipline that protects that worth in practice. Dignity says there is something unbreakable in each of us. Mercy is how we honor that unbreakable thing, especially when harm or conflict tempts us to forget it. What would shift if our reflex wasn’t How fast can we react?, but How deeply can we understand? What becomes possible when we refuse to hurry past another person’s humanity?Mercy is not sentiment. It is resistance. It is the refusal of dignity fatigue. It is the discipline of witnessing: in political policy, in the conversations we have, in how we treat each other’s failures and hopes. 2025 taught us what haste can destroy. The question now is whether we’re willing to build something slower—and more human—in its place."
}
,
{
"title" : "What We Can Learn from the Inuit Mapping of the Arctic",
"author" : "William Rankin",
"category" : "excerpts",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/inuit-mapping-arctic",
"date" : "2025-12-02 12:49:00 -0500",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Template-Inuit_Map.jpg",
"excerpt" : "This excerpt is from RADICAL CARTOGRAPHY by William Rankin, published by Viking, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2025 by William Rankin.",
"content" : "This excerpt is from RADICAL CARTOGRAPHY by William Rankin, published by Viking, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2025 by William Rankin.In 1994, the Berkeley geographer Bernard Nietschmann made a famous claim about the power of mapping in the global struggle for Indigenous rights. It was a claim about how the tools of historical oppression could be reclaimed by the oppressed: “More Indigenous territory has been claimed by maps than by guns. This assertion has its corollary: more Indigenous territory can be defended and reclaimed by maps than by guns.” The idea was that by putting themselves on the map—documenting their lives and their communities—Indigenous peoples would not be so easy to erase. Nietschmann was working in Central America, often heroically, during a time of violence and displacement, and he inspired a generation of researchers and activists interested in flipping the power structure of state-centric cartography on its head.But despite the spread of bottom-up mapping projects in the past 30 years, perhaps the most successful example of Indigenous mapping actually predates Nietschmann’s call to action. Just one year prior, in 1993, the Inuit of northern Canada signed a treaty creating the territory of Nunavut—the largest self-governing Indigenous territory in the world—and mapping was central to both the negotiation and the outcome. It remains one of the rare cases of Indigenous geographic knowledge decolonizing the world map.So why hasn’t the Inuit project been replicable elsewhere, despite decades more work on Indigenous mapping? The answer lies in the very idea of territory itself, and in particular in one of the most threatened parts of the Inuit landscape today: ice. The winter extent of Arctic sea ice reached a record low earlier this year, and a new low is predicted for the winter ahead. Yet the shrinking ice isn’t just an unshakable sign of Arctic warming; it’s also a poignant reminder of what Nietschmann got right—and what he missed—about the relationship between cartography and power. In particular, it shows how Inuit conceptions of space, place, and belonging are rooted in a dynamic, seasonal geography that’s often completely invisible on Western-style maps.The story begins in the 1970s, when the young Inuit leader Tagak Curley, today considered a “living father” of Nunavut, hired the Arctic anthropologist Milton Freeman to lead a collaborative mapping project of unprecedented scope and ambition. Freeman taught at McMaster University about an hour outside Toronto; he was white, but his wife, Mini Aodla Freeman, was Inuit (she was a translator and later a celebrated writer). Freeman assembled a team of other anthropologists and Arctic geographers—also white—to split the mapping into regions. They called their method the “map biography.” The goal was to capture the life history of every Inuit hunter in cartographic form, recording each person’s memories of where, at any point in their life, they had found roughly three dozen species of wildlife—from caribou and ptarmigan to beluga, narwhal, and seaweed. Each map biography would be a testimony of personal experience.After the mapping was split into regions, about 150 field-workers—almost all Inuit—traveled between 33 northern settlements with a stack of government-issued topographic maps to conduct interviews. Each hunter was asked to draw lines or shapes directly on the maps with colored pens or pencils. The interviewers stayed about 10 weeks in each settlement, visiting most hunters in their own homes, and the final participation rate was an astonishing 85 percent of all adult Inuit men. They collected 1,600 biographies in total, some on maps as large as 10 feet square.Then came the cartographers, back in Ontario: one professor and a team of about 15 students. The first map below (Figure 1) shows how the individual map biographies were transformed into summary maps, one for each community. For every species, the overlap of all hunters’ testimony became a single blob, and then blobs for all species were overlaid to make a complete map. The second map (Figure 2) shows one of the finished atlas pages along the Northwest Passage. The immediate impression is that the Arctic is in no way an empty expanse of barren land and unclaimed mineral riches. It is dense with human activity, necessary for personal and collective survival. The community maps combined to show almost uninterrupted Inuit presence stretching from northern Labrador to the Alaska border.Figure 1: Top left is a simplified version of a “map biography” from a single Inuit hunter, showing his birthplace and the places he hunted caribou, fox, wolf, grizzly bear, moose, and fish at various points in his life. (The original biography would have been drawn over a familiar government-issued topographic map.) The other three maps show how multiple biographies were then combined into patterned blobs for all hunters and all species. (Map courtesy of William Rankin/ Penguin Random House LLC.)Figure 2: A two-page spread from the finished atlas showing the seven kinds of animals hunted from the settlements of Igloolik and Hall Beach, in an area about 500 by 300 miles: caribou, polar bear, walrus, whale, fish, seal, and waterfowl. (Because of the large number of individual species recorded in the map biographies, some species were grouped together in the final maps.) The blobs are a strong, even overpowering figure atop an unusually subtle ground. Notice in particular how difficult it is to distinguish land and water areas, since the dark shading extends beyond coastlines even for individual species. This map in fact includes the Northwest Passage—the famous sea route around the tip of North America—but the crucial Fury and Hecla Strait (named after the two British ships that first learned of, but did not navigate, the passage in 1822) is almost entirely obscured. (Map courtesy of William Rankin/ Penguin Random House LLC.)Nothing about the cartography was meant to be subversive—or even controversial. For the cartographers, the only message was that the Inuit hunted a variety of species over large areas. But look again at the finished map in Figure 2. Yes, a foreground is layered over a background in the usual way, but the visual argument is strikingly different from a typical layered map in, say, a census atlas, where the foreground data doesn’t stray beyond crisp pre-existing borders. Here, in contrast, even the basic distinction between land and water is often obscure. The maps’ content is the facts of species and area; the maps’ argument is that Inuit culture is grounded in a substantially different understanding of territory than the one Western cartography was designed to show.As a result, this new atlas shifted the negotiations between the Inuit and the Canadian government decisively. Not only did the maps provide a legal claim to the Inuit-used land, documenting 750,000 square miles—an area the size of Mexico—but also a claim to the sea, showing an additional 325,000 square miles offshore.It took many years for the full implications to play out, but the erosion of the land–water boundary became central to the Inuit vision. At the time, wildlife on land was managed by the regional Northwest Territories government, while offshore marine species were the responsibility of centralized federal agencies. The Inuit used the atlas to win agreement for a new agency with equal responsibility over both. At the same time, the Inuit also improved their position by offering their offshore claims as evidence the Canadian government would use—not just in the 1980s, but even as recently as 2024—to resist foreign encroachment in the Northwest Passage. The final agreement in 1993 granted the Inuit $1.15 billion in cash, title to about 17 percent of the land in the “settlement area,” representation on several new management agencies, a share of all natural-resource revenue, broad hunting and fishing rights, and a promise that the territory of Nunavut would come into being on April 1, 1999.It’s easy to count this project as a success story, but it’s also important to remember that it depended both on the government’s own interest in negotiation and on the willingness of Indigenous peoples, or at least their leadership, to translate their sense of space onto a map, solidifying what had previously been fluid. It also meant abandoning claims to ancestral lands that had not been used in living experience and provoking new boundary disputes with neighboring, and previously amicable, Indigenous groups. These tradeoffs have led some scholars to critique mapping as only “drawing Indigenous peoples into a modern capitalist economy while maintaining the centrality of state power.” But for the Inuit, the alternatives seemed quite a bit worse.With the more recent proliferation of Indigenous mapping initiatives elsewhere—in Latin America, Africa, and Asia—the tradeoffs have been harder to evaluate. Most governments have shown little interest in addressing Indigenous claims, and when bottom-up mapping has been pushed instead by international nonprofits interested in environmental conservation, the downsides of mapping have often come without any of the upsides.Yet it’s not just the attitude of the state that’s been different; it’s also the cartography. In nearly all these other cases, the finished maps have shown none of the territorial inversion of the Inuit atlas. Instead, Indigenous knowledge is either overlaid on an existing base map in perfectly legible form, or it’s used to construct a new base map of a remarkably conventional sort, using the same visual vocabulary as Western maps.Did the Inuit project just show the data so clearly that its deeper implications were immediately apparent? No, not really, since the great irony here is that the cartographers were in fact quite dissatisfied. Follow-up surveys reached the conclusion that the atlas was only “moderately successful” by their usual mapmaking standards.The Inuit atlas was a kind of happy accident—one that doesn’t conform to any of the usual stories about Indigenous mapping, in Canada or elsewhere. The lesson here isn’t that maps should be as Indigenous as possible, or that they should be as orthodox as possible. These maps were neither. My take is simpler: the atlas shows that maps can, in fact, support alternative conceptions of space—and that showing space in a different way is crucial.The possibilities aren’t endless, but they’re broader than we might think. Plotting different sorts of data is a necessary step, but no less important are the relationships between that data and the assumptions of what lies below. For the Inuit, these assumptions were about land, water, and territory. These were in the background both visually and politically, and they were upstaged by an unexpectedly provocative foreground. The layers did not behave as they were meant to, and despite the tradeoffs, they allowed an Indigenous community to fight for their home and their way of life."
}
,
{
"title" : "Malcolm X and Islam: U.S. Islamophobia Didn’t Start with 9/11",
"author" : "Collis Browne",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/malcolm-x-and-islam",
"date" : "2025-11-27 14:58:00 -0500",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/life-malcolm-3.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "Anti-Muslim hate has been deeply engrained and intertwined with anti-Black racism in the United States for well over 60 years, far longer than most of us are taught or are aware.As the EIP team dug into design research for the new magazine format of our first anniversary issue, we revisited 1960s issues of LIFE magazine—and landed on the March 1965 edition, published just after the assassination of Malcolm X.The reporting is staggering in its openness: blatantly anti-Black and anti-Muslim in a way that normalizes white supremacy at its most fundamental level. The anti-Blackness, while horrifying, is not surprising. This was a moment when, despite the formal dismantling of Jim Crow, more than 10,000 “sundown towns” still existed across the country, segregation remained the norm, and racial terror structured daily life.What shocked our team was the nakedness of the anti-Muslim propaganda.This was not yet framed as anti-Arab in the way Western Islamophobia is often framed today. Arab and Middle Eastern people were not present in the narrative at all. Instead, what was being targeted was organized resistance to white supremacy—specifically, the adoption of Islam by Black communities as a source of political power, dignity, and self-determination. From this moment, we can trace a clear ideological line from anti-Muslim sentiment rooted in anti-Black racism in the 1960s to the anti-Arab, anti-MENA, and anti-SWANA racism that saturates Western culture today.The reporting leaned heavily on familiar colonial tropes: the implication of “inter-tribal” violence, the suggestion that resistance to white supremacy is itself a form of reverse racism or inherent aggression, and the detached, almost smug tone surrounding the violent death of a cultural leader.Of course, the Nation of Islam and Elijah Muhammad represent only expressions within an immense and diverse global Muslim world—spanning Morocco, Sudan, the Gulf, Iraq, Pakistan, Indonesia, and far beyond. Yet U.S. cultural and military power has long blurred these distinctions, collapsing complexity into a singular enemy image.It is worth naming this history clearly and connecting the dots: U.S. Islamophobia did not begin with 9/11. It is rooted in a much older racial project—one that has always braided anti-Blackness and anti-Muslim sentiment together in service of white supremacy, at home and abroad."
}
]
}