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Stewart Huntington
ICT
MINNEAPOLIS – The middle-aged woman screamed up the avenue, blinded by tear gas sprayed in her face by federal immigration officers. Onlookers poured bottled water in her eyes to calm the chemical burn but couldn’t ease the deeper pain.
A pain that felt like heartbreak.
The wave of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers fanned out in and around Minnesota’s Twin Cities – and in other U.S. cities – is having what appears to be its desired effect: the sowing of fear and chaos in the hearts of the citizenry.
It’s a frightening and novel notion to many. But not in Indian Country where federal efforts at intimidation and eradication began with the founding of the nation 250 years ago.
“What we’re really seeing is a continuation of tactics that us as Native people are very accustomed to,” Rachel Dionne-Thunder, a Bigstone Cree Nation descendant and vice president of the Indigenous Protector Movement, told ICT. “But what is happening now that is different is out there now is that more American citizens are waking up to the reality of what it means to be existing under an authoritarian regime. We, as Native people, already know and understand that and have been fighting against it for generations.”
Rachel Dionne-Thunder, a Bigstone Cree Nation descendant and vice president of the Indigenous Protector Movement, addresses a crowd at Minneapolis’ Target Center arena on Friday, January 23, 2026 during a large-scale rally and march protesting a surge in federal immigration officers in the state. “What we’re really seeing is a continuation of tactics that us as Native people are very accustomed to,” she says. “But what is happening now that is different is out there now is that more American citizens are waking up to the reality of what it means to be existing under an authoritarian regime. We, as Native people, already know and understand that and have been fighting against it for generations.” Credit: Stewart Huntington/ICT
A day after federal officers shot and killed 37-year-old Alex Jeffrey Pretti in Minneapolis, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz on Sunday called for an end to the immigration crackdown known as Operation Metro Surge. He addressed President Donald J. Trump directly at a press conference. “What do we need to do to get these federal agents out of our state?” Walz asked. “You thought fear, violence and chaos is what you wanted from us, and you clearly underestimated the people of this state and nation.”
Walz was nodding to the widespread and largely peaceful response to the federal law enforcement surge in his state that included the incident with the woman teargassed Saturday on Nicollet Avenue, just a block from where Pretti was killed.
On Friday, an ICE Out rally and march held in downtown Minneapolis drew some 50,000 citizens who braved sub-zero temperatures to call for an end to the immigration crackdown.
Native people across the country see echoes of history resonating in Minneapolis – and beyond.
A protester walks by a line of federal law enforcement officers on Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on Saturday, January 24, 2026. Protesters gathered at the spot just an hour after federal officers shot and killed Alex Jeffrey Pretti.
Credit: Stewart Huntington/ICT
“It’s a repeat of history, and it’s very unfortunate,” Eugenia Charles-Newton, a Navajo Nation councilmember, told ICT. Charles-Newton was touring the Powwow Grounds coffee house in the heart of eight-block American Indian Cultural Corridor.
The coffee house has transformed itself into the living, breathing center of the Native response to the federal law enforcement surge, primarily as a collection point and distribution center for food and supplies for community members afraid to venture from their homes for fear of being caught up in an immigration raid. “We’re in 2026, and we’re seeing this happening again today.”
Dakota citizen arrested by federal officers during Minneapolis protests Saturday
But the connection to the present landscape and Native experience with oppressive federal policies and actions – and the long history of Native responses – was given center stage Friday at the ICE Out march in Minneapolis.
The march ended at the city’s Target Center arena for speeches. The Target Center portion of the event opened with two Native people, Dionne-Thunder and Nick Estes, a Lower Brule Sioux Tribe citizen and associate professor of American Indian studies at the University of Minnesota.
There are other elements of what is unfolding in Minneapolis with reverberations in history. Not only do heavy-handed federal actions feel familiar, but so do the Native reactions.
“All of you today are now feeling what we have been feeling for centuries,” said Estes to some 10,000 people in the arena. “This did not begin in December with Operation Metro Surge. This began centuries ago. … This isn’t something new or unique. This is a continuum.”
Minneapolis is the birthplace of the American Indian Movement, formed in 1968 to counter adverse experiences Native community members were having with law enforcement. The movement’s many successes – and second and third generation leaders – are informing a strong and organized response to the federal presence on the streets.
“Minneapolis isn’t like the rest of the world,” Mike Forcia, the Bad River Band of Chippewa citizen who is chairman of the Twin Cities Chapter of the AIM, told ICT. “We take this stuff seriously, and we’re not going to put up with” violence and degradation from the authorities.
American Indian Movement Twin Cities Chapter leader Mike Forcia looks over supplies donated at the Powwow Grounds Coffee house in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on January 24, 2026. “Minneapolis isn’t like the rest of the world,” Forcia says. “We’re not going to put up with” violence and degradation from the authorities. Credit: Stewart Huntington/ICT
Is it because of the Native presence in town?
“I would like to think so,” he said. “We are on the front lines, always.”
Attorney Chase Iron Eyes, Oglala Lakota, was more direct.
“There’s some sacred reason why fascism and those who would seek to do violence against peaceful American families are finding that they have met their match in Minneapolis,” he told ICT. “Because it’s where the American Indian Movement began. It’s because there are Native people here. We know what it’s like to be free. We know freedom in a different sense of that word. And all of America is welcome to know that freedom that we know.”
The Trump administration is not showing signs it plans to scale back its campaign of immigration enforcement that saw action in Los Angeles, Chicago and the District of Columbia and elsewhere before launching in Minnesota – and then spreading to Maine last week.
A federal law enforcement officer stands on Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on Saturday, January 24, 2026 blocking the spot where federal officers shot and killed a Minnesota man earlier. A surge in federal policing in the state has led Native leaders to hear echoes of history. “All of you today are now feeling what we have been feeling for centuries,” says Nick Estes, a Lower Brule Sioux Tribe citizen and Associate Professor of American Indian Studies at the University of Minnesota. “This began centuries ago… This isn’t something new or unique. This is a continuum.” Credit: Stewart Huntington/ICT
And perhaps the generations of experience in Indian Country responding to federal pressure can spread, too.
“I think what a lot of Americans are really shocked by, and a lot of the world is really shocked by, is how the United States is treating its own citizens,” Estes told ICT. “This isn’t just an Indian problem. This is all of our problems. It’s not new in the Indigenous community. We’ve seen this before.”
And that experience – despite all the heartache and trauma – sometimes breeds hope.
“They took our land. They took our spirituality. They took our culture. They took our family. They took everything away from us,” Forcia said. “But there’s one thing that they will never be able to take. And that’s our sense of humor.”
His message? Native people and Native nations are not going anywhere, backed up by a strength and resilience as deeply honed as any found in human history.
Just ask Navajo Nation Vice President Richelle Montoya. She came to Minneapolis to testify during tribal consultations for the Violence Against Women Act.
Navajo Nation Vice President Richelle Montoya surveys donated supplies at the Powwow Grounds Coffee house on January 22, 2026 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The donations are for members of the Native community scared by a surge in immigration officers in Minnesota. “It reminds me of what our ancestors taught us, not just as Navajo ancestors, but Indian Country ancestors,” she says. “We all are supposed to be here for one another. If Indian Country unites, we are strong. And that is what the United States government fears.” Credit: Stewart Huntington/ICT
She told of seeing Twin City Navajo citizens living in fear.
“They can’t even go to the post office because ICE is there, and they’re afraid that they’re going to be targeted and detained for just being brown,” she told ICT. “It reminds me of what our ancestors taught us, not just as Navajo ancestors, but Indian Country ancestors. We all are supposed to be here for one another.”
Native people have been questioned or detained by ICE agents across the country, including Peter Yazzie, Navajo, two weeks ago. The agents detained Yazzie and ignored Yazzie’s direction to documents proving his U.S. and tribal citizenship.
“If Indian Country unites, we are strong,” Montoya said. “And that is what the United States government fears.”
The Associated Press contributed to this report.
The post A 250-year echo: ‘We’ve seen this before’ appeared first on ICT.
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Article Summary
• The Skagit Valley is the center of a thriving regional grain economy, fueled by local wheat production, a mill, the research center Breadlab, and bakeries.
• A key driver behind the valley’s success is the Skagit Port Commission, which supported the Breadlab, underwrote a millstone-research trip to Scandinavia, and built a granary for Skagit farmers.
• The port also invested $1.2 million in Cairnsprings Mill, a social purpose corporation that now mills more than 7 million pounds of flour annually, supporting local farmers and bakers.
• The public-private partnership represents a model that could inspire other regions seeking to strengthen local food systems.
Compared to the high plains of Kansas or the rolling fields of eastern Montana, Skagit County, Washington, is something of a backwater when it comes to wheat production. Yet over the past 15 years, the Skagit Valley has emerged as a national hot spot for innovations in grain breeding, artisan-scale milling, and experimental baking.
This broad alluvial plain, graced by the chiseled peaks of the North Cascades to the east and the forested humps of the San Juan Islands to the west, is home to the Breadlab, which develops highly nutritious, climate-adapted varieties of wheat, rye, and other grains. One of the nation’s two King Arthur Baking Schools shares space with the lab. Cairnsprings Mills, a favored flour purveyor for bakeries across the Pacific Northwest, is around the corner, and at the nearby Breadfarm bakery, the line of people waiting for baguettes, cookies, and massive miche loaves on summer weekends stretches around the side of building.
“We thought if we could get specialty wheat to grow here, you could get more per bushel. It turns out to be true.”
The seeds of the Skagit’s flourishing grain economy were planted at a time when the community faced a turning point. During most of the 20th century, peas had been a major cash crop here. In December 2009, Twin City Foods, the last remaining pea processor in northwestern Washington, announced it would close.
The sudden news shocked area farmers and left them hustling to fill some 6,000 acres with another crop that would fit into their rotation schedule.
Local elected leaders hustled, too. Many had watched with growing unease as Seattle’s sprawl paved over prime agricultural land to the south. Unless Skagit came up with a plan to produce more high-value crops, they feared that it, too, could lose its agricultural character.
“We were trying to figure out what was next for the valley,” said Patsy Martin, who served as the Port of Skagit’s executive director for 14 years before retiring in 2021. “How do we help these smaller farmers make enough money? How do you help farmers be price makers, not price takers?”
The Port of Skagit Plants the Seeds
A port commission may seem like an unlikely public agency to spearhead an agricultural initiative, but among their various responsibilities, Washington’s 75 port districts are tasked with assisting local economic development. In Skagit County, that could mean aerospace, logging, or agriculture. Its port officials lean into agriculture.
In the last 15 years, the port has invested more than $7.5 million in local food and farming enterprises. The port helped launch Viva Farms, a celebrated farmer training outfit; a canning company called Gielow Pickles; and a slaughterhouse and butcher, NW Local Meats, that mostly serves farmers on the San Juan Islands. Port investments in value-added agriculture have helped create some 200 jobs in the county.
The port also decided to revive grain production in the area. A century ago, the valley’s oat production had helped feed Seattle’s horses, but by the late 20th century, grain production had taken a back seat to more high-value crops.
Keith Morter of Keith Morter Farms harvests wheat in Ione, Oregon. (Photo credit: Andrew Snyder)
“When we got to thinking about what could be done differently about the land, a couple of different ideas emerged—and one of them was growing specialty wheat,” said Kevin Ware, a local doctor who has served on the Port Commission for more than 20 years.
“We thought if we could get specialty wheat to grow here, you could get more per bushel,” Ware said. “It turns out to be true.”
The Road to a Local Grain Economy
Last December, rain and headline-making floods hammered the Skagit Valley, but days later, the sky was clear, conjuring a rainbow above a cabbage field. “We call this ‘the Magic Skagit,’” said Dave Hedlin, a 70-something third-generation farmer.
Part of the magic is the valley’s soils, among the most fertile and productive in the nation, enriched for millennia by silt exfoliated by wind and rain from the flanks of the nearby mountains. Part of the magic is the temperate climate, unusual for such a northerly location, which allows growers to produce more than 80 crops. Magical too is the winter arrival of thousands of snow geese, tundra swans, and trumpeter swans that descend on the valley to glean the fields. On clear days, the white lines of flocks in the distance can be mistaken for ripples of snow in the foothills.
Finally, part of the Skagit’s magic is people, Hedlin continued. “Even though we compete every day as farmers, somehow, when it’s time to fund agricultural research [for grains] … we all managed to wrap up our sleeves and work together and figure out a way to get it done.”
Hedlin runs a diversified farm of 500 acres bordering the Salish Sea, with about half certified organic or regenerative organic. Like many Skagit farmers, Hedlin was growing grain decades ago, “for fun and occasionally for profit.” Skagit County is the nation’s top producer of tulips and daffodils and a major potato producer—crops that can be hard on the soil. For as long as anyone could remember, farmers had planted cereal every third or fourth year as a rotation crop to help cycle nutrients, restore organic matter, and break disease patterns.
In a good year, Skagit farmers sold the grain into the commodity system, where it was most likely shipped to Asia because the valley’s soft white wheat made a perfect flour for noodles. In a decent year, the grain might be processed into animal feed. But many years, farmers just plowed it under because prices were so low it wasn’t worth harvesting. There had to be a better way.
Breeding Better Grain and Building a Mill
Enter Stephen Jones, a wheat breeder from the Washington State University extension service. Jones, now retired, was eager to develop wheat varieties that would be more productive in the fields and nutritious to eat. With WSU support, plus seed money from Clif Bar, King Arthur, and Patagonia, Jones launched the Breadlab in 2008.
“When Steve came, he flipped the switch and said, ‘You don’t need to lose money on wheat every year. You can make money,” said Kevin Murphy, a longtime wheat breeder who became the lab’s executive director in 2024. Key to the switch was developing wheat strains that could outperform traditional varieties in both the fields and bakers’ kitchens. “Our little tagline is ‘breeders that bake.’”
After Breadlab was up and running, a crucial piece for a local grain economy was still missing: a grain mill. Kevin Morse, who spent 10 years directing The Nature Conservancy’s programs to help Skagit farmers adopt conservation practices, raised his hand to make it happen. “I saw grains as an opportunity, because it’s one of the last commodities to go craft,” Morse said.
Cairnspring Mills co-founder and CEO Kevin Morse pictured at Cairnspring Mills in Burlington, Washington. (Photo credit: Sara Marie D’Eugenio)
Morse had relationships with Pacific Northwest investors who were experienced in the food industry and weren’t looking for a quick payout. But some kind of public investment was still necessary.
“Go back 11 or 12 years when we started having these conversations and imagine somebody walking into an investor’s office or an equity fund saying, ‘We’re going to build a craft flour mill,’” Morse said. “Most people weren’t going to buy in.”
The Port Steps In
Having already helped to launch the Breadlab by providing it with office space and cheap rent, the port became a crucial partner in launching what would become Cairnsprings Mill. The Port Commission underwrote a trip Morse took to Scandinavia to research milling stones for processing whole grains. In Denmark, Morse discovered composite millstones—made from flint and emery—that would be perfect for processing whole grains. Although Morse still had to raise the operating capital, the port invested $1.2 million to build the mill, with an agreement to lease the infrastructure back to Cairnsprings until the company, a registered social purpose corporation, could pay it off. The port also built and began operating a 10-silo granary for Skagit farmers.
“It took a village,” Morse said. “A public-private partnership was the way we were going to get it off the ground.” In January 2017, the mill processed its first commercial-scale batch of flour from wheat grown in Western Washington.
The Many Dividends of Local Grain
Last year, Cairnsprings ran shifts nearly around the clock and milled 7.5 million pounds of flour. That may not be much in the grand scheme of things—it’s about what a huge industrial mill produces in a day—but Cairnsprings pays between $9 and $10 a bushel for wheat that meets its quality standards. In the commodity system, high-quality wheat will fetch about $6.50 a bushel. “We’re actually helping farmers stay in business,” Morse said.
The farmers seem happy.
“It’s really exciting, especially on the organic side, to able to grow a grain that’s kind of bulletproof,” Dave Hedlin said. “Always before, we would take Eastern Washington varieties of grains and try a bunch of them out, and whichever one was survivable, we’d grow that.”
In comparison, Breadlab varieties are bred for western Washington, and farmers can select for desired traits. “It’s just really fun,” Hedlin said.
The bakers are psyched.
“It’s really delicious,” said Mel Darbyshire, head baker at Grand Central Bakery and Café, a Seattle and Portland chain that prioritizes regional and sustainably grown ingredients. The bakery uses Cairnsprings’ Trailerblazer and Edison flours, which the bakers especially like for pizza and focaccia. “It’s got germ and bran in there, and with that you get flavor,” Darbyshire said. “You get more of those nutty notes.”
At the Port of Skagit, officials are also pleased with their return on investment. Cairnsprings is on track to pay off its 20-year lease on the mill equipment, and taxpayers will make a healthy 6 percent profit on the deal. But Port Commissioner Ware sees a larger ROI for the community as a whole, in terms of “improvement to the community, more agricultural jobs, more people keeping their farms, less being converted to non-agricultural purposes,” she said. “Did we win? Yeah.”
“We’re doing this because we believe rebuilding local food systems is the best way to make us more healthy, prosperous, and resilient.”
Every agricultural community is unique, with its own set of attributes, advantages, and challenges. But everyone involved with the Skagit wheat economy is confident that other agricultural areas could similarly use public dollars as a springboard for private enterprise.
“There are other small places that have pieces of it that I think can replicate, whether it’s grains or some other crops that work particularly well in their climate and soils,” said former Port executive director Patsy Martin.
Next Stop: Oregon
Cairnsprings is already working on a repeat. Last fall, the company broke ground on a second, much larger mill outside Pendelton, Oregon. The new mill, which will be closer to the state’s major wheat-growing region east of the Cascades, is located on the lands of the Umatilla Indian Reservation. In an echo of the role played earlier by the Port of Skagit, the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla are providing a significant portion of the capital. The tribe is now an equity partner in Cairnsprings.
The new mill will have 12 times the capacity of the original mill in Skagit. Cairnsprings will be able to offer fair prices to more farmers, sell to many more bakeries, feed more people hungry for whole grain flours. A millstone, it turns out, can be the cornerstone of creating a grain economy that works for farmers sick of being paid so little and eaters who want more than flours stripped to mere starch and gluten.
“Part of our vision for the future is that this inspires others to do this in their communities too,” Morse said. “We’re doing this because we believe rebuilding local food systems is the best way to make us more healthy, prosperous, and resilient. We hope this is the model that sticks and becomes the norm, instead of an outlier.”
The post How Artisan Grains Helped Skagit County Rebuild Its Economy appeared first on Civil Eats.
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Patagonia fires reignite debate over Argentina’s underfunded environmental agencies
(news.mongabay.com)
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‘Administrative erasure’: Wintu people say proposed California reforms would threaten their homelands
(ictnews.org)
This story was originally published by Shasta Scout and shared through the Institute for Nonprofit News’ Rural News Network. ICT is a member of INN and the network.
Marc DadiganShasta Scout
As a Wintu cultural monitor, Shawna Wilson says she always carries her hard hat, clipboard, and tribal ID card in her vehicle because she never knows when she might have to step into her role and stop a construction project.
California law requires that state and local agencies contact the appropriate tribes when they’re planning development projects within their ancestral territories. After a consultation process, agencies often broker agreements with tribes to place cultural monitors like Wilson on construction sites to prevent damage to ancestral village sites, sacred places, cemeteries and other cultural resources.
However, the system doesn’t always work as intended. Even though agencies should consult with tribes long before breaking ground, Wilson says she often learns about construction projects in her Wintu homelands, which includes the Redding area, when she happens to drive past them.
“It can be difficult to navigate when you’re dealing with foremen who don’t want to listen or slow down their work,” said Wilson, a member of the Wintu Tribe of Northern California. “But it’s important we speak up for our lands and ancestors.”
Sometimes her tribe is left in the dark simply due to poor communication, but Wilson said sometimes public officials falsely believe they don’t have to consult with her tribe because the Wintu are federally unrecognized.
Wilson and several California tribal leaders say excluding non-recognized tribes, which violates state law, could soon become encoded into California regulations, much to their alarm. A state commission is currently evaluating a proposal that would remove unrecognized tribes, including the Wintu, from an important list agencies use to determine which tribes to consult.
The public comment period on the draft regulations will end on Tuesday, Jan. 26.
Known as the tribal contact list, it’s been curated by the tribal-led Native American Heritage Commission for 50 years. The list is a valuable resource for public officials because it can be challenging to know which tribe is culturally affiliated to a given place, given the sheer diversity of tribes in California and the sometimes overlapping nature of tribal territorial boundaries.
For non-recognized tribes — many of whom suffer from their exclusion from federal Indian funding and legal protections as well as the lack of a land base — the list is a lifeline, one of the few legal avenues they have to advocate for their place-based ways of life, they say.
“It’s going to make the exclusion and silencing we experience now more permanent.” Wilson said.
For this story, Shasta Scout interviewed seven representatives of non-recognized tribes from throughout the state. They all say their removal from the list could leave their territories extremely vulnerable to cultural and environmental destruction. In many cases, tribal representatives said, the nearest recognized tribe that would be consulted for any given project may be some distance away and may also lack the experience and capacity to advocate for homelands that are not their own.
Hereditary Chief Caleen Sisk said her tribe, the Winnemem Wintu, is the only one qualified to advocate for their ancestral homelands of the McCloud River watershed, where they have been working with government agencies to protect sacred sites, revitalize ceremonies and restore the river’s ecology for decades. For example, the tribe has spent more than 20 years resisting the Bureau of Reclamation’s raise of Shasta Dam and since 2022 have been working with state and federal agencies to restore salmon to the McCloud.
In part because of the Winnemem Wintu’s advocacy for their river, the State Assembly passed a joint resolution in 2009 urging the federal government to recognize the tribe. Sisk said she doubted the Redding Rancheria, the closest recognized tribe that has Wintu members, would have the resources or knowledge to work on the river.
“If we don’t have the right to speak up for our sacred sites, who is going to do that? Other tribes don’t know where the sacred sites are or know how to protect the river,” Sisk said. “[The proposed regulations] would be opening up thousands of acres of land that will have no one to protect it.”
Cultural monitor Wilson echoed Sisk’s concern that the Rancheria could become the one stop shop for Redding-area tribal consultations when they “don’t represent the full Wintu history or all of the Wintu voices.”
Redding Rancheria Chairman Jack Potter noted that his tribe has regularly written letters for the other Wintu tribes, supporting their cases for recognition and their inherent Indigenous rights. He added that Redding Rancheria tribal members can empathize with unrecognized tribes’ struggles today because Congress terminated them as a tribe in 1959, and it wasn’t until 1983 that the courts restored their sovereign status with the U.S. government.
“We were also without a voice at one time. We honor and respect the entire Wintu country because if we don’t respect all Wintu people ourselves, how can we expect other people to?” he said.
Non-recognized tribes call proposal “administrative erasure”
Under the proposed regulations, the current list would be discarded, and only federally recognized tribes, such as the Redding Rancheria, would stay on the revised list. About 60 non-federally recognized tribes, including three Wintu tribes whose territories cover parts of Shasta County, would be forced to apply to the commission for consideration to be re-added to the list. The current draft of the regulations indicates that would require extensive documentation and records, and tribal leaders say it would likely be a long and uphill battle to get added back to the list.
When a tribe is federally recognized, it means that the United States has established a government-to-government relationship with a tribe as a sovereign nation, although U.S. law does place some constraints on tribes’ ability to self-govern. Historically this relationship with the U.S. was established primarily by treaties and the establishment of reservations held in trust for tribes by the federal government.
Winnemem Wintu Hereditary Chief Caleen Sisk signs a co-management agreement with leaders from the California Department of Fish and Wildlife and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration on May 1, 2023, to co-steward McCloud River Salmon Restoration Projects. Credit: Photo by Jessica Abbe, courtesy of the Winnemem Wintu Tribe
In California, it’s well known that many historical and legitimate tribes lack federal recognition because of systemically oppressive actions by the state and federal governments’. Numerous government studies and academic analyses have concluded that the lack of recognition is rooted in the state’s complex history of unratified treaties, the impacts of the Spanish Missions — which fragmented many tribal societies through enslavement and high death tolls — and the devastating state-led campaigns of genocide and removals that accompanied 19th century Euro-American settlement.
In recent decades, being on the Bureau of Indian Affairs’ official list of federally recognized tribes has become a precondition for tribes to access federal funding and legal protections, such as receiving an eagle feather permit, protection for ceremonies on public lands and many other rights specific to tribes, including the ability to operate gaming businesses.
Tribal legal advisors and scholars told Shasta Scout the proposed changes to the contact list would undermine decades of established practice at the Native-led Heritage Commission. The commission was created in 1976 to help tribes protect their cultural sites, and the group has historically been careful to be inclusive of both unrecognized and recognized tribes, they say.
“It’s very transparent that these regulations are not about enabling California Indians to engage with our sacred places, to practice our religions or our traditional ecological knowledge. It’s really about creating this discriminatory hierarchy among our tribes and prioritizing recognized tribes,” said Olivia Chilcote**,** a tribal member of San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians and associate professor of American Indian Studies at San Diego State University.
Native American Heritage Commissioners declined to answer questions about the proposed regulations for Shasta Scout noting that those regulations are still in draft form and haven’t been finalized, according to an email from Gita Chandra, Communications and Special Projects Director for the California Natural Resources Agency.
Regulations with unclear motivations and legality
Claire Cummings, a legal advisor for the Winnemem Wintu, said the proposed regulations would violate the equal protection principle outlined in the state’s constitution. She said the regulations arbitrarily creates two separate classes of California Indians and would give the NAHC a new role of judging the legitimacy of different tribes. This is a role it is not legally entitled to wield, Cummings explained.
“The issue here is sovereignty. The law clearly states that California must protect the sovereignty of unrecognized tribes, but now the NAHC is trying to put itself in the position of deciding who is and isn’t worthy of sovereignty,” said Cummings.
Cummings as well as tribal leaders also said it’s unclear why the NAHC is pursuing the regulation changes and that commissioners have not explained what problem they’re trying to solve.
Wintu cultural monitors help protect and preserve cultural items that may be disturbed by construction, such as arrowheads, mortars, pestles and other cultural items that belonged to their ancestors. Credit: Photo by Marc Dadigan/Shasta Scout
The proposed regulations do refer to problems with disputes over tribal boundaries as well as “splinter” tribes, and sets up a process by which the NAHC would evaluate these conflicts and the legitimacy of unrecognized tribes. However, unrecognized tribal leaders interviewed by Shasta Scout do not think NAHC is the appropriate body to be acting as a final judge on these disputes.
Potter, chairman of the Redding Rancheria, said he believes the proposed changes to the contact list are designed to address what he calls “boy scout clubs,” or illegitimate groups who are staking claims to tribal lands.
“I don’t think it’s their intention to eliminate anyone. I think they’re just trying to figure out how to deal with these imaginary groups who have ties to nothing and have legitimate tribes going around and around in the courts,” Potter said.
Cummings said the law is clear that tribes have the power to put themselves on the list, and it’s the NAHC’s role simply to facilitate that rather than evaluate the legitimacy of other tribes. NAHC commissioners are politically appointed by the governor, and historically there has been a mixture of unrecognized and recognized commissioners. Today, there is only one unrecognized commissioner and five who are enrolled with recognized tribes.
Tribal representatives are also concerned about commissioner ties to wealthy gaming tribes, some of whom were co-sponsors on a 2025 bill that similarly would have excluded unrecognized tribes from the state’s environmental review process.
“It’s really concerning for me that the NAHC would have this kind of discretionary authority to judge our tribal communities and it really raises serious questions about who has the ability, time and resources to review the documentation they’re requesting,” said Chilcote, the San Diego State professor.
Chilcote also noted that the commission’s proposed regulations create an evaluation process that is similar to a petition process the Bureau of Indian Affairs created in 1978. For decades that process had been criticized as highly political, unnecessarily laborious and discriminatory toward California tribes, none of whom have been recognized through the process since 1983.
“To say (the commission) is going to decide who is the right tribe is antithetical to our cultures and the history of how our communities functioned,” said Chilcote. “There were always shared territories, places that were sacred to many of us.”
A barrier to healing
The proposed regulations come at a time when non-recognized tribes in California have made tremendous progress in cultural revitalization and healing some of the scars of the historical genocide and land dispossession.
In recent years, many non-recognized tribes have restored land bases and re-engaged in traditional environmental stewardship, often with state partnerships. For instance, since 2023, the Winnemem Wintu have been co-managers with state and federal wildlife agencies on a historic project to restore salmon to the McCloud River where the fish have been absent for nearly 80 years.
However, if they are removed from the contact list, non-recognized tribes fear these informal and formal partnerships may be undermined, and they may be excluded from funding streams such as the state’s $101 million Tribal Nature-Based Solutions grant program.
In 2019, Gov. Gavin Newsom issued an official acknowledgment of California’s role in the 19th century genocide, and initiated a Truth and Healing Council to investigate reconciliation. Many tribal leaders are now wondering how their removal from the contact list fits into this vision.
“There’s no truth and healing for us if we can’t protect our sacred sites, if we can’t get back to the river and get back our salmon,” said Sisk, Chief of the Winnemem Wintu. “Taking us off the list is just another type of the same genocide.”
The post ‘Administrative erasure’: Wintu people say proposed California reforms would threaten their homelands appeared first on ICT.
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1993
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José Zanardini, the priest who tried to reconcile faith and Indigenous autonomy
(news.mongabay.com)
1995
1996
4
WHO Set to Debate Landmark Global Plan Aimed at Closing Health Gaps for Indigenous Peoples
(icmagazine.org)
Last Updated on January 25, 2026 Health and Indigenous rights advocates are converging on the World Health Organization’s (WHO) Executive Board next week for a pivotal meeting to review the draft Global Plan of Action (GPA) for the Health of Indigenous Peoples, a landmark framework aimed at addressing entrenched disparities in health outcomes for Indigenous […]
From Intercontinental Cry via This RSS Feed.
1997
Amelia Schafer
ICT
At least one tribal member was arrested during widespread protests in Minneapolis following the shooting and killing of 37-year-old Alex Pretti by immigration agents on Jan. 24.
In a social media post Saturday night, 13 individuals listed as “violent agitators” were photographed in law enforcement custody, including Sisseton Wahpeton Oyate tribal citizen, William Lafromboise, 23.
Lafromboise was released just before midnight central time on Jan. 24.
Lafromboise was arrested by ICE agents during an Anti-Immigration Control Enforcement protest in Minneapolis on Jan. 24 sometime around 2 p.m Central Time, family members told ICT.
The post said that he and 12 others assaulted agents or obstructed the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement activity. Lafromboise is wearing a gray Champions sweater in the photo.
“On January 24, our officers were swarmed and attacked by these violent agitators,” the post said.
They also accused the list of individuals for crimes against the agents including: throwing objects at agents, physically assaulting agents, ramming agents with vehicles, issuing death threats, obstruction of law enforcement, vandalization of government vehicles and brandishing homemade weapons.
As of Jan. 24, charges have yet to be filed against Lafromboise.
ICE did not respond to ICT’s requests about what charges Lafromboise is facing.
ICE agents can arrest United States citizens who are in violation of United States Code Section 111 Title 18, which pertains to interfering with law enforcement investigations or assaulting federal officers. Immigration agents are considered federal law enforcement under this legal code.
Assault on a federal law enforcement officer is a federal offense punishable by up to 20 years in prison under United States Code Section 111 Title 18. Penalties typically are determined by the severity of the assault.
Initially, community members were concerned that Lafromboise had been detained by ICE. The family immediately contacted Sisseton Wahpeton Oyate Chairman Garret Renville.
Renville told ICT he had contacted the Department of Homeland Security and searched federal immigration databases prior to news that Lafromboise was arrested, rather than detained.
Reports indicate both ICE and FBI are making arrests. It’s not clear who is handling the arrests.
Unverified claims of the detainment of a Standing Rock Sioux Tribe citizen have also been brought to the attention of the Standing Rock Tribal Council.
This is a developing story.
The post Dakota citizen arrested by federal officers during Minneapolis protests Saturday appeared first on ICT.
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