Unlike most weeks, this week I want to write about something not entirely connected to my
time in the Senator’s office. I want to write about a decision just handed down from the District of Columbia’s U.S. Court of Appeals concerning the case Confederated Tribes of the Chehalis Reservation v Mnuchin. This decision, if upheld, has the potential to disrupt decades of Congressional precedent and completely upend the function of our Alaska Native Corporations (ANCs). Handed down just this Friday, Sept. 25 th , the opinion of Judge Katsas holds that per definitional language within the Indian Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act of 1975 (ISDA), Alaska Native Corporations are not eligible for the historic $8 billion stimulus funding provided in the CARES Act. Instead, the holding dictates that Alaska Native Corporations will need Tribal consent in order to receive federal funding. In essence, the holding requires an additional layer of bureaucracy be applied to ensure ANCs have access to federal funding intended to support our Alaska Native communities in need. The holding is also not narrowly tailored, meaning that this requirement will be applied to all other future funding measures unless Congress or the Supreme Court intervenes. If upheld, Judge Katsas’ holding would upend ANC functions by threatening ANC’s abilities to participate in the compacting process – harming Alaska Natives’ abilities to self-govern in housing, healthcare, and other crucial social programs. Though these programs may be taken up by Tribes over time, the intervening chaos, lost productivity, and lost institutional knowledge poses a substantial risk to Alaska Native lives and livelihoods. The reform is not worth the risk. Meanwhile, the system we have chosen to work through his provided countless dividends since its conception in 1971. It is efficient, workable, and, most importantly, a system we self-determined. For a court a continent away to upend that system is inconceivable and unjust, not to mention ignorant and short-sighted. The coronavirus pandemic is an existential threat to our Indigenous communities. History leaves no doubt as to the detrimental effect disease has upon us. Time and again, pandemics have taken away our young ones, our Elders, our mothers and fathers, and our sisters and brothers. Public health crises are nigh a generation removed for Alaska Native communities, whose present housing shortages and infrastructure poor environments present ripe opportunities for communicable diseases like the coronavirus to spread, infect, and kill. There could not be a worst time to impart this decision. Further frustrating is the dogmatic, apathetic reasoning underlying the court's decision. Presented in the twelfth page of Judge Katsas’ Opinion of the Court, the holding of the court is predicated upon a strict ideological reading of law promoted by the late Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia and lawyer Bryan Garner in their book Reading Law: The Interpretation of Legal Texts (2012). Specifically, Judge Katsas relies upon a passage concerning the clausal order of a text as the basis for his decision. It is hard to picture a reasoning more acute and arcane than this as the basis for a decision with such great ramifications. Judge Katsas’ Opinion of the Court and Judge Henderson’s tacit approval of it belies decades of Congressional action. In focusing on the tree of ISDA’s clausal structuring, the court willfully ignores the forest of Congressional precedent supporting ANCs’ inclusion in federal funding dedicated to Tribes, as well as the ways ANCs function in conjunction with federally recognized Tribes in their respective regions. The court willfully ignores the unique, beneficial roles ANCs play in disbursing essential services to those in their regions. The court willfully ignored the coronavirus pandemic and the urgent needs of Alaska Natives in forming its decision. Instead, it focused on the clausal order of a definition using a guidebook written in 2012. A court a continent away from our communities (a) denies our Alaska Native communities the crucial funding they need in order to combat and control the coronavirus, (b) obscures future federal funding from Alaska Native Corporations, and (c) upends our self- determined way of receiving essential services and programs all because of a reading of a guidebook written by a deceased Supreme Court justice in 2012. How is that just? Without the Supreme Court stepping in to overrule the circuit court’s holding, any change would require Congressional action, agency buy-in, and Tribal consultation. Such an effort would probably cost millions of dollars and years of work. The coronavirus presents a cost which may be measured in human lives. For as long as ANCs are unable to access CARES Act funding, fewer resources are able to reach our Alaska Native communities. Less resources are able to support our essential workers. Less resources are available to help get our communities through the harsh winter ahead. Most importantly, Alaska Native Corporations’ inability to access CARES Act funding may mean fewer people may be around in the spring to help get our communities back on their feet. Less people may be around to carry on our languages. To support our youth. To take care of our Elders. This holding presents a paradigm shift. And while I do not know the future, I know that now is not the time to restrict access to essential resources. It is not the time to upend a tried and true method of support for our Alaska Native communities. This moment is a time to support all communities, and increase access to scarce resources like PPE and novel vaccines. More than ever, they are needed. We have seen what disease can do to our communities if we do not receive the resources we need. It is not a history worth repeating. Additionally, as Indigenous peoples, we must not fight one another for access. We must come together. The fact that we are fighting one another in this lawsuit is shameful to me. It hurts me to think that we attack one another this way. Instead of celebrating the historic $8 billion explicit congressional set aside, we’ve given outside powers who do not know our histories, priorities, or legal structures as well as we do the opportunity to marginalize critical allies of our Indigenous communities. The division shown through this lawsuit within our Indigenous community astounds me. It seems to be the same intra-Indigenous factionalism and divisiveness which for decades allowed the forces of colonialism and imperialism to fundamentally destroy our civilizations. While I understand no single federal policy will be able to adequately address the acute needs present within our societies, surely there must be a better way to work for greater resources for our communities than fighting each other for the limited resources present. Surely, after hundreds of years of losing our sovereignty due to a lack of Indigenous solidarity, we would realize that the path towards progress comes not in attacking each other. That progress is not possible through the degradation of institutions which benefit our communities. That, in truth, we hold more power as a collective unit than as an assortment of disparate interests. And that in the long run, we do a disservice to each other by politically isolating our fellow Indigenous organizations, when we could do extraordinary good should we stand united. I hope this decision gets overturned. That Congressional intent and historical precedent be honored, and the needs of our Indigenous communities are met in full during this extreme time of need. I also hope this case may serve as a catalyst for conversations within the Indigenous communities about the necessity of supporting one another. That through this case, we can focus on areas of mutual interest where we can present ourselves as a united front. Above all, I hope we can work together to implement strategies which do not allow for the possibility of outsiders to determine the paths we ought to be able to chart ourselves.
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It has been a busy week. I’ve really taken to writing letters, but this week I actually found
the most joy in a meeting the interns and I had with the Senator. It wasn’t long, probably half an hour at most. But what I found the most enjoyable was the opportunity to reflect on where I’d been and where I am now. At the beginning of my Al Adams Fellowship, I was acutely aware of my outsider status. I felt distinctly separate from the system of power and prestige I was working with. I had taken classes on Congress and the Legislative Branch, though I knew little to nothing about its day-to-day operations. Each time I saw Sen. Sullivan walk by on his way to the floor or a committee meeting, I stared in awe. All around me, I brushed shoulders with arguably the most powerful people in the United States. I was working directly with speechwriters, policy makers, legislative directors, and legislative counsel. I felt out of my depth. I came into my position intimidated, shy, and generally discombobulated. Over time, however, I gained confidence in the role I had. Remembering everything I’ve been taught from my parents, I worked hard to learn quickly. To produce quality work and prove myself capable of any responsibility seen fit to give me. Just before the coronavirus pandemic threw everything into uncertainty, I felt tentatively capable. I was finding my footing. Throughout the course of the pandemic as I worked from home, part of me felt like I was robbed. Grateful as I was to still have a position with Team Sullivan, I yearned to be back in the office. I felt I had more to grow into. Having tasted the satisfaction that comes from knowing you’re just starting to get your feet under you, I craved more. Coming back to the office this fall, even with the changes I noted last week, I have that chance again. I’m no longer shy in engaging with the Senator in meetings. I’m ready whenever he asks a question of me. I’ve been where my fellow interns are now. And though we have the same title, I don’t know if we share the same mindset. I don’t mean to degrade them at all, for I believe they all are exceptional in their own right. I only mean to reflect on my own unique experiences. From where I was this January to where I am now in September, a lot has changed. In coming back to the office, I’m realizing more than ever I am not the person I once was. My skills are finely shone, my technical writing is better, my researching capabilities are improved, and I’m not scared to answer a phone. I feel more confident in who I am, where I feel I belong, and in the environment around me. So while I return back to the office, I feel less like an outsider, and more like a true member of the team. I can’t wait to see where things go from here. This week marks my first time back in Sen. Sullivan’s D.C. office since the beginning of the
pandemic. Needless to say, the experience felt surreal. Everything is more or less where I remember it being: my friend Allison up front answering calls, Erin and Sarah in the back working through IQ, Soukup quietly gathering clips in the press room. Like the world following Thanos’ snap though, only half of the staff was present. The rest worked from home, either in Alaska or around D.C. Select staff seem to break the rule, if only because they have offices insulating them from everyone else. Nevertheless, everyone wears a mask. With the lessened in-person attendance, everyone is safely socially distant, and hand sanitizer is readily available wherever you go in the office. It’s a far cry from what I’ve seen from every other office on our floor so far, where the lights are off, the doors are locked, and its clear everyone is working remotely. Honestly though, I like being back in person. I won’t lie in saying that a part of me is afraid I’ll catch the coronavirus, but I’ve missed team Sullivan. I’ve missed the friends I have here, and the office comradery we share. As much as I was grateful to stay on and work remotely for the Senator and the people of Alaska over the spring and through the early summer, I missed putting on a suit and coming into the office. I missed learning what issues were important to Alaskans across the state. I missed the connection I felt between my studies and my work. It was nice to get all of those things back, or at least the impression of them. It was also nice to come back and feel immediately like I was a part of the team. That I wasn’t an intern to work on menial tasks, but rather was a trusted team member. While the other interns in the fall cohort trained to answer phones, navigate the office, sort mail, and get to know the intern handbook, I was assigned a desk in the back to get to work straightaway. From my second day back, I was tasked with helping the legislative correspondents reply to constituent requests and opinions. I was helping out with staff level work. At the best part is, I love the work. I love researching the legislative basis around a constituent’s particular request and learning more about the policy world around me. I love learning more about the impacts our policies have on the citizens we serve. I love the work it takes to informatively reply to those who have reached out to us. Each time I come to work, I feel in touch with those back home, even if we are a continent apart. I feel like I make a difference with the work I do here. It’s a feeling I’ve really missed. And a feeling I’m ever grateful to have again. |
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Photo used under Creative Commons from Mike Juvrud