http://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/09/us/dakota-access-pipeline-protests.html 2016-09-08 19:05:05 ‘I Want to Win Someday’: Tribes Make Stand Against Pipeline Some of the Native Americans protesting in North Dakota speak of lost lands and broken treaties. They hope this fight will have a happier outcome. === NEAR CANNON BALL, N.D. — Verna Bailey stared into the silvery ripples of a man-made lake, looking for the spot where she had been born. “Out there,” she said, pointing to the water. “I lived down there with my grandmother and grandfather. We had a community there. Now it’s all gone.” Fifty years ago, hers was one of hundreds of Native American families whose homes and land were inundated by rising waters after the To Ms. Bailey, 76, and thousands of other tribal members who lived along the river’s length, the project was a cultural catastrophe, residents and historians say. It displaced families, uprooted cemeteries and swamped lands where tribes grazed cattle, drove wagons and gathered wild grapes and medicinal tea. That past has now become a poignant backdrop to protests over a $3.7 billion oil pipeline project that would cross a rancher’s land just north of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s reservation and plunge under a dammed section of the Missouri River. The company building the Dakota Access pipeline across four states and 1,170 miles says it will transport oil safely and reliably. Opponents say a spill or break could poison the river. The protests have drawn thousands here to the Plains, stirring a new environmental movement for dozens of Native American tribes across the country who are supporting the Standing Rock Sioux’s efforts here to block the pipeline. The fight is nearing a pivotal moment as a federal judge in Washington prepares to rule by Friday on whether to allow or block construction of a section of the pipeline near the tribe’s land. History, like a river, runs deep here. And residents like Ms. Bailey say the pipeline battle has dredged up old memories and feelings about lost lands and broken treaties with the United States government, as well as their worries about the future of land and water they hold sacred. “The trauma we deal with today is a residual effect of 1958, when the floods came,” said David Archambault II, chairman of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe. The federal government has paid millions in compensation over the years to tribes affected by the dam project, including more than $90 million held for the Standing Rock Sioux. But people here say they are still haunted by the memories of being told to leave their homes and seeing families drift apart. The tribe has spent more than 20 years trying to gain control of 19,000 acres of waterfront land that was taken through eminent domain during dam construction. “Even though it’s been more than half a century they still feel this loss,” said Michael L. Lawson, the author of “Just about every part of their economy and living situation was impacted,” Mr. Lawson said. “They lost their most important resources in the bottom lands.” For years, the legacy of the dam was perhaps the headline struggle for the Standing Rock Sioux. Now, the pipeline has brought widespread attention, intense news media coverage and thousands of environmental pilgrims to this serene stretch of North Dakota. The Standing Rock Sioux have sued the Army Corps of Engineers, which approved an important permit for the pipeline, saying that building the pipeline would destroy sacred cultural and burial sites and raising concerns that a leak or spill would poison their water supply. The tribe has asked for a preliminary injunction. The Corps says it reached out extensively to tribes before it gave approval for the Dakota Access pipeline to cross bodies of water, including the Missouri. The Standing Rock Sioux, it says, canceled a meeting to visit the pipeline’s proposed crossing across Lake Oahe. The tribe says it was not properly consulted. In legal filings, the Corps said the Standing Rock Sioux also could not point to specific sites that would be harmed by the pipeline. A tribal history expert later walked the route of the pipeline, and said he had found stone cairns and rocks arrayed in circles, spirals and other patterns that he said probably marked burial sites. As the judge’s decision nears, tensions and fears of violence are rising. Last weekend, protesters upset that pipeline work crews were bulldozing what the tribe calls sacred ceremonial sites broke down a wire fence and surged onto a construction site. The sheriff’s office here in Morton County called it a “riot,” and said protesters had kicked workers, hit them with sticks and sent one to the hospital. Tribal officials say that the demonstrators were provoked, and that six were bitten by guard dogs brought in by the pipeline company’s security guards. “The worst fear is that this gets escalated in some way and someone gets hurt,” Sheriff Kyle Kirchmeier of Morton County said in an interview this week. “At some point there has to be an endgame. This can’t be going on for long periods of time.” A total of 37 people have been arrested on trespassing and other charges, but no one has been charged in connection with the clashes on Saturday. Sheriff Kirchmeier said his office was still investigating. The protests have attracted activists, actors and politicians. This week, Jill Stein, the Green Party’s presidential nominee, camped out with protesters and was seen on videos spray-painting a bulldozer that sat at a pipeline construction site. On Wednesday, Morton County officials said they The Texas company behind the pipeline, Energy Transfer Partners, said that it was operating entirely within the law and its agreements with landowners, and that it had all the necessary state and federal permits to build the pipeline. The company Theresa Pleets, 81, said she had a deep personal stake in coming out to the protest camp, a field speckled with teepees, campers, tents and fire rings. She grew up in a two-room log house along the Missouri River, where her parents would fill barrels with drinking water. After the river was dammed, she said, her parents were relocated to a small government-built house. “I want to beat the Corps,” she said. “I want to win someday.” The house where Ms. Bailey was born was just one room, she said. She arrived during a January blizzard in 1940, and her grandfather, Albert No Heart Sr., took a horse-drawn sleigh eight miles south to the town of Fort Yates to fetch a midwife, she said. She went away to boarding school, and worked for decades in tribal administrative offices. Now, she said, she tells stories of gathering firewood and wild berries in land that is covered by water. “My kids don’t believe it,” she said, “when I tell them how things were.”