Keystone Pipeline leak contained, but largest to date in South Dakota
By C.S. Hagen AMHERST, SOUTH DAKOTA – Four days before TransCanada anticipated obtaining permits for the Keystone XL project, the company’s older pipeline leaked, spilling more than 210,000 gallons of Canadian crude oil into the South Dakota plains.
The spill occurred near the Sisseton-Wahpeton Sioux Tribe Reservation.
“It’s not if pipelines leak, but when they will leak, and we’re experiencing a leak, a pretty substantial amount,” Sisseton-Wahpeton Sioux Tribe Chairman Dave Flute said in a public video. “We want to know what was the cause, why it happened, and how much was spilled, and what impact that will have on our environment.”
The leak occurred at 5:30 a.m. Thursday near Amherst, South Dakota, and the Keystone Pipeline was shut down within 30 minutes, Brian Walsh, team leader for the South Dakota Department of Environment & Natural Resources, said. Cleanup crews are at work, and Walsh’s agency is overseeing the cleanup process.
Keystone Pipeline spill in Amherst, SD aerial photograph – provided by TransCanada
“The spill has not reached any surface water, and it is contained,” Walsh said. “It’s not flowing off site. They have mobilized equipment necessary to begin the cleanup activities to the site and we anticipate they will work 24 hours a day to clean up the area.”
The Keystone Pipeline is operated by TransCanada, which manages a 56,900-mile network of pipelines extending from Alberta, Canada to the Gulf of Mexico, according to a press release made available by TransCanada. On the TransCanada Twitter page, company officials posted that they are currently assessing the situation near Amherst.
“Frequent updates are being provided to the affected landowners, community, regulators, and other state and federal agencies to ensure they are aware of our progress,” the press release stated. No mention was made of why the oil leaked.
“In terms of cost of cleanup that falls on TransCanada,” Walsh said. “In terms of penalties, we just don’t know at this time.”
On the Twitter page entitled Keystone Pipeline Sabotage, oil and pipeline proponents began crying foul hours after the spill.
“Wouldn’t put it past the crazy Dems to sabotage the pipeline,” someone named ARI Russian BOT said.
“Just as the approval was pending,” a commentator named Doug said. “Want to bet it was sabotage?”
Cleanup is no small feat, and could take months, perhaps years. All contaminated soil must be removed. If diluted bitumen, which has the consistency of thick tar, reaches water sources such as lakes, ponds, rivers, or aquifers, the cleanup would become nearly impossible, as bitumen, opposed to crude oil, sinks in water.
The Keystone XL Pipeline was first proposed in 2008, but the project received widespread opposition in Canada and the United States, and it ended with President Barrack Obama’s 2015 decision to reject the pipeline’s permits. President Donald Trump breathed new life into the Keystone XL Pipeline after signing a flurry of executive orders four days after ascending to the presidency.
TransCanada was in negotiations with regulators to run the Keystone XL Pipeline, with a capacity of 830,000-barrels-per-day, through Nebraska when the spill occurred.
The spill has many speculating if the company’s expansion permits will be approved, or not. Legally, pipeline safety is not a factor in issuing permits, according to Nebraska law. The state’s law says regulators are not allowed to consider the risks of pipeline accidents when considering permissions for pipeline construction, as the issue is federal, not state.
“In determining whether the pipeline carrier has met its burden, the commission shall not evaluate safety considerations, including the risk or impact of spills or leaks from the major oil pipeline,” Nebraska’s Major Oil Pipeline Siting Act stated.
Pro-pipeline politicians and businessmen continuously state pipelines are the safest method to transport crude oil, but pipeline opponents contest, saying all pipelines will one day leak.
Spills are unavoidable, according to an August 2017 report compiled by the Dakota Resource Council, a nonpartisan watchdog group.
The Dakota Resource Council’s report stated that the oil boom in the Bakken is endangering people’s health, and that the state lacks meaningful standards for detecting and repairing leaks.
“Each day, oil and gas activities across the state spring leaks that spew toxic pollution into the air, like an invisible spill,” the report stated. “The smog that pollution causes to form is endangering the health of communities across North Dakota.”
From 2010 to the present, the Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration or PHMSA reported a total of 373 spills between three major pipeline companies. After Thursday’s incident, and two leaks from the Dakota Access Pipeline in 2017, that number is 376.
Not including Thursday’s spill, TransCanada and subsidiaries had 13 spills totaling 829 barrels or 34,818 gallons of crude oil
Kinder Morgan and subsidiaries and joint ventures had 213 spills totaling 21,598 barrels or 907,116 gallons of hazardous liquids
Enbridge and its subsidiaries and joint ventures had 147 spills totaling 40,794 barrels or 1,713,348 gallons of hazardous liquids.
The $3.8 billion Dakota Access Pipeline sprung two leaks in March 2017, spilling 84 gallons in Watford City and 20 gallons in Mercer County
“Additionally three other tar sands pipelines, Kinder Morgan’s Trans Mountain, Enbridge’s Line 3 expansion, and TransCanada’s Energy East, are in various stages of development,” a 2017 Greenpeace report stated. “Construction of one or more of these pipelines could lead to the expansion of the tar sands, with serious consequences for communities and the climate.”
Although environmental activists have been fighting big oil and pipelines for years, the controversy took front pages across the world in 2016 during construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline in North Dakota. Resistance camps grew to become one of the state’s largest communities at one time exceeding 10,000 people. Approximately 854 people were arrested during the months-long opposition outside of Standing Rock, and so far 310 of those arrested have had their cases dismissed of were acquitted, according to the Water Protector Legal Collective, a law firm defending activists facing charges in North Dakota.
More than 120 First Nations and Indigenous tribes on both sides of the northern border have signed a treaty stating their opposition to the tar sands pipelines, trains, and tankers through their territories and lands.
Nearby, on the Sisseton-Wahpeton Sioux Tribe Reservation, they’re wanting answers, but said that even though the spill occurred outside of their jurisdiction, TransCanada is being transparent with them.
“There is not an accurate amount of spillage that they can quantify,” Chairman Dave Flute said. “If there is any possible issue that we could have with our water, they will let us know,” Flute said. “Everybody knows there is a spill, we just don’t know how many gallons.”
Already, people from out of state are arriving at the cordoned spill area, Flute said.
“As [former Standing Rock Sioux Tribe Chairman] Dave Archambault had preached, and I supported Archambault, be peaceful,” Flute said. “If you do come up here I do ask that you be mindful, and be respectful. Freedom of speech, you can say what you want to say, but be respectful.”
Flute said pipeline officials reacted quickly, and have shown concern for residents.
The North Dakota Public Service Commission was also contacted for comment on the safety of current pipelines operating in North Dakota, but no response was given by press time.
By C.S. Hagen
CAVALIER – Friends call John Eric Foster the valve turner a hero, the state is trying him as a criminal, and the Keystone Pipeline named him a terrorist for stopping their oil pipeline flow for eight hours in 2016.
Michael Foster and Samuel Jessup halfway through the trial – photo by C.S. Hagen
After a week of trial and a five-hour deliberation, a jury found Foster guilty on all counts, except the most serious charge, reckless endangerment, leaving felony criminal mischief, felony conspiracy to commit criminal mischief, and criminal trespass, a misdemeanor.
Foster’s co-defendant, Sam Jessup, who filmed the action, was convicted of felony conspiracy to commit criminal mischief and misdemeanor conspiracy trespass, both sentences which could carry a maximum of 11 years imprisonment.
“I’m feeling so relieved and peaceful right now, because I’ve been wondering for a year how this would all play out, and now I don’t have to wonder,” Foster said. “I’m grateful to the jury for wrestling with this for several hours. There were some tearful faces in there, whether they were unsure, or whether they were simply feeling the weight of sending someone to prison, I think they were taking it as seriously as they could. I would not want to be on that jury.”
Foster’s trial brought activist groups, civil rights advocates, climate change analysts, reporters from Washington D.C. and New York, to the picturesque town of Cavalier, population barely 1,300, the seat of Pembina County.
Lady Justice stands tall above the neoclassical-styled courthouse, but her scales dipped heavily with Foster’s case. On the trial’s third and fourth days, Judge Laurie A. Fontaine denied Foster’s necessity defense, denied the testimonies of four expert witnesses on Climate Change, and denied motions for acquittal by the defense.
“While the proffered experts could testify to the data supporting the existence and severity of climate change, there is no argument that they have the knowledge or expertise to testify on how knowledge of climate change affects an individual defendant’s mental state, intent, or level of culpability,” court documents said.
Foster, 52, stands accused of felonies with a maximum sentence of 22 years in prison, years more than any other activist arrested. His action – considered the biggest coordinated move on U.S. energy infrastructure undertaken by environmental protesters – has been covered by national media, but little has been reported by mainstream media in North Dakota.
Foster helped halt 15 percent of US oil consumption for the day. Jessup, who filmed Foster on October 11, 2016, is being tried as a conspirator.
Climate guru Dr. James Hansen, a former NASA researcher, was one of the expert witnesses planning to testify. “I’m the one who said tar sands are ‘game over’ for climate, and here [is Michael Foster] facing trial for trying to do something about it.”
Michael Foster, Samuel Jessup, expert witnesses on Climate Change, Dr. James Hansen to Foster’s right, and supporters – photo by C.S. Hagen
The state argued in court that Foster willfully shut down the Keystone XL pipeline with the intent to rob oil transporter TransCanada Corporation of nearly $1.2 million. The prosecution’s team, Assistant Attorney General Jonathan Byers and Pembina County State’s Attorney Rebecca Flanders, failed to properly admit evidence, and failed to notify the defense properly about their clean-cut star witness, Trevor Pollack, a manager for TransCanada Pipeline.
The defense argued that Foster is guilty of nothing more than trespass; that he gave proper warning to pipeline officials, who then called law enforcement about a terroristic threat, before shutting the pipeline down. The defense scored one point with the judge when they objected to the prosecution’s lack of clearly identifying Pollack’s credentials.
After a 10 minute recess during Thursday proceedings, Judge Fontaine came back into the courtroom, stroked her chin, flipped through law books, mumbled back and forth about arguments, then ruled in favor of the defense.
“I’m not going to allow to allow any more testimony about risks,” Judge Fontaine said. “It’s not the defense’s job to keep asking for information.” The prosecution wanted the case to be about potential risks to property and people; the defense wanted to include climate change and the pipeline’s damage to the environment.
The defense may appeal the judge’s repeated denials.
“There are a lot of judges who make that call,” said Jessup’s attorney, William Kirschner, of Kirschner Law Office in Fargo. “We are allowed to appeal. I was hopeful, but who knows, we’re not done yet.”
“It has become a case about free speech and the right of free expression in an economy dominated by the oil industry,” said Emily Lardner of Washington DC, Jessup’s mother.
Two Keystone lawyers dressed in black suits sat silently at the back of the courtroom.
“The company is trying to figure out how to prosecute without providing evidence for these crimes,” Jessup said. Despite being on trial himself, the courtroom drama is the first he’s seen up close. “They’re testing us out to see what they can get away with. Climate change poses a threat to our nation and our future.”
Ken Ward, 59, of Oregon, is another valve turner who was recently found guilty, but received no jail time in Washington State. He attended the trial after serving 30 days community service while working for Habitat for Humanity. He fully anticipated jail time, as does Foster. They both knew the risks before their group, a total of five valve turners with Climate Direct Action, stopped tar sands oil from flowing in Minnesota, North Dakota, Washington, and Montana.
Nine people were originally arrested in the coordinated action to safely shut down valves on five pipelines carrying tar sands oil from Canada into the United States. The additional three valve turners include Emily Johnston, 50, of Seattle, Washington, Annette Klapstein, 64, of Bainbridge Island, Washington, and Leonard Higgins, 64, of Eugene, Oregon, who are still awaiting their court dates.
All were involved in Climate Direct Action, and all believed their actions were morally and legally justified in order to avoid catastrophic harm to humanity.
John Foster, one of the defendants, is also a kayaktivist with the Mosquito Fleet Rapid Response Team, and involved with Al Gore’s initiative, the Climate Reality Project.
Michael Eric Foster – “Who Will Stop Us” – wet plate by Shane Balkowitsch
Foster was disappointed with the court’s ruling to disallow his necessity defense and the testimonies of expert witnesses. A sticking point with the prosecution was that he was untrained and put lives and property in danger, but the state failed to prove that, Foster said. Prior to him shutting down the pipeline in 2016, the pipeline had already been shut down five times.
“People doing this without error, without accident, there’s some basic procedures that were followed,” Foster said.
Until late Thursday, Foster planned to take the stand. In the end, he was not allowed to.
“I thought I am betraying myself, I will regret this for the rest of my life,” Foster said. “The truth is if I’d taken the stand there would have been so many objections and fights, the jury would have had to leave the room. Without even getting on the stand, it’s pretty obvious we knew what we were doing out there. North Dakota really wants to win something; they prosecuted very vigorously. The judge was very patient and kind. Everybody put a lot of time into doing this right.”
Climate change is the reason he turned the valve, Foster said. He is committed to his cause and rarely drives a car, preferring to use a bicycle. His decisions have cost him much, personally, and may cost him much more.
A necessity defense is used to shield people who must break the law in order to prevent greater harm. So far, three of the four trials involving valve turners across the country have denied defendants the necessity defense option. One case in Minnesota remains to be determined.
Tensions were high between the prosecution and defense. The courtroom felt like a law room should, sturdy, dignified, with high ceilings, intricate millwork, fold-up school-style wooden chairs. A sturdy wooden bannister separates the onlookers from the legal teams.
Little evidence but memories remain of the 2005 burning and shooting rampage that occurred in 2005 by an angry local farmer, James Thorlakson. Once-blackened halls are clean. The 1912 dome, the only building designed by Buechner & Orth in North Dakota, stands somber and brilliant.
The jury, sitting like beached whales, chairs pivoted toward the judge, were frequently dismissed to allow for arguments on the prosecution’s failings during Thursday’s proceedings.
Evidence of the crime: Foster’s white hardhat, his fluorescent work jacket, the bolt cutters, among other items used on the day the pipeline was shut down, sat on a desk.
“Yes, there was a risk,” Foster’s attorney, Michael Hoffman, said. “There’s a risk if I walk across the street to go to my car. Pipelines have inherent risks. The state has not proven their case.”
Nearby farmers and neighbors were not warned of a terroristic threat, Hoffman said, and the only conclusion is that law enforcement and the reporting pipeline company were not overly concerned.
“It all goes back to the fact that you can’t have it both ways,” Hoffman said. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, it is overcharging of these crimes against Michael Foster. His intent was to stop the flow of the oil as a change in the narrative of climate change, and this was a symbolic event, if anything. You do not have any evidence that any persons or property were in any danger, or that he was in a culpable mental state.”
Even the state admitted, earlier in the trial, that Foster was trying to raise public awareness and that his actions would have a temporary effect, Hoffman said.
After turning the valve, Foster left chrysanthemums behind, and immediately confessed to Chief Deputy Sheriff Fred Marquaret. After hearing about a terroristic threat by pipeline field manager Lonnie Johnson, he went home to grab his binoculars, taking more than 30 minutes to arrive at the scene.
“I didn’t know what was happening until I got there,” Marquaret said. “Was I going to encounter some kind of fire or explosion? I didn’t know.”
After arriving, he first scoped out the area, then saw two people heading toward him. He asked Foster what was going on.
“He stated he had cut the padlock, and had turned the valve,” Marquaret said. He said Foster was polite, and didn’t resist arrest. Citing probable cause, deputies also arrested Jessup and a documentary filmmaker named Deia Schlosberg. Charges on Schlosberg were later dropped.
“Was 9/11 a peaceful protest? Was the Oklahoma City bombing a peaceful protest?” Kirschner said. “Is there a difference between taking action?”
“Yes,” Marquaret said.
“Is it really fair to say the two are not comparable?” Kirschner said.
“Pipeline manager Lonnie Johnson just asked us to check it out,” Marquaret said.
“How did you know it wasn’t a hoax?”
“I didn’t.”
Kirschner argued for his client, Jessup, that the two did not conspire; Jessup was there to film, and he never entered the manual shut-off valve control area, known as Walhalla 8-2, as it is 8.2 miles from the Canadian border.
Lady Justice atop the Pembina County Courthouse – photo by C.S. Hagen
“My client was there when a crime was being committed,” Kirschner said. “My client was there to record and live stream. Just being there doesn’t make him a conspirator to criminal trespass. There is no evidence that he said or planned anything beforehand.”
“He bragged ahead of time, he boasted after the fact,” prosecutor Byers said of Foster. “He shut down the Keystone Pipeline, he knew he would cause losses of more than $10,000. Yes, nobody was injured, but an untrained operator not knowing the equipment he’s using – it didn’t go bad, but it certainly could have. There is enough evidence to have a jury possibly convict.”
Did Foster put the pipeline and people’s lives at risk when he decided to shut down the Keystone Pipeline?
“It’s a big system, so it’s hard to stay on top of everything,” Pollack, the manager for TransCanada, said. He was on duty the day Foster shut the pipeline down, and company employees immediately put the pipeline into a “safe mode” when they received the warning call. Later, when pipeline pressures fluctuated, they commenced an emergency shutdown, which took approximately 28 minutes.
“It was not a chosen controlled shutdown, but it was controlled,” Judge Fontaine said.
The prosecution rested their case on Thursday, and defense gave short arguments on Friday morning, showing in full a video the prosecution had shown only 18 seconds of, and then turned the case over to the jury. Showing the video to the jury was considered a victory for Foster, who was unable to speak out on climate issues during the trial. Friday’s proceedings were short but tense. Defendants Foster and Jessup, friends, family, and supporters, waited in the courtyard’s lawn for hours while the jury deliberated.
The jury gave its verdict around 7:30 p.m.
The expert witnesses barred from testifying included: Dr. James Hansen, Dr. Tom Hastings, an author and co-coordinator in conflict resolution at Portland State University, and Reverend Rebecca Voelkel, director of the Center for Sustainable Justice.
Foster, a former mental health counselor, has been living in North Dakota for the past month. He traveled partly by rail and by bicycle from Washington to the state to prepare for the trial.
“I can’t get over some of the things I’ve seen and learned, and how different the world looks from this point of view,” Foster said. “I’m kind of disgusted with myself and my coastal elitism. I can just imagine how I look and sound, some of my attitudes — and there’s a part of me that thinks I may relocate to a place like North Dakota to do some climate work.
“This is where it is at, this is where people are real and understand the truth, and I think we can learn a lot from getting out of our blue states and our bubbles, and just having decent conversations with people who care about the land and care about their kids.”
An in depth look into why valve turners, called eco terrorists by some, feel forced to commit crimes to halt global warming
By C.S. Hagen
CAVALIER – He kept the plans secret for months. Not even family knew he planned to shut down North Dakota’s Keystone Pipeline in October 2016. Chilled, early morning air stabbed his lungs as he stepped from the rental car and into a beet field, bolt cutters in one hand, yellow chrysanthemums in the other.
The pipeline’s emergency shut-off valve, a secluded area wrapped by a wire-link fence, was only a stone’s throw away from where he parked along a dirt road. He’d already scouted the area, had done his homework, but Michael Foster’s pulse quickened.
Finally, I get to do something real, shut down the Keystone 1 Pipeline. How quickly can law enforcement arrive? Can I get through the locks in time? Will the valve be difficult to turn?
Michael Foster faces up to 23 years inprisonment for stopping the Keystone Pipeline in North Dakota – photo by C.S. Hagen
He had traveled grudgingly by plane nearly 1,500 miles from Seattle, Washington, to become what is known as a valve turner. Foster had a vivid daydream that sheriff’s deputies would be waiting for him. Militarized police videos he’d seen from the standoff at Standing Rock were chilling enough. Surely his little group of environmental activists – white, middle class, middle-aged, and suburban – had committed mistakes, triggering algorithms.
Only the night before on October 10, 2016, in a hotel pub, eating a plate of fries and ketchup, Foster couldn’t speak with comrades of his intentions for fear of being overheard, but now a live streamer and a filmmaker followed his every move, revealing to the world as he committed felonies. Internet signal was intermittent, keeping Sam Jessup’s live stream from broadcasting Foster’s initial moments.
I challenge this oil going through this pipeline. It’s illegal, and I have to stop it. Follow protocol.
The pipeline companies were notified – twice – before Foster stepped up to the first barrier. Cameras were in place.
“We called the pipeline companies about 10 to 15 minutes before, to give them the opportunity to shut down remotely or do whatever they wanted to do,” Foster said. “The point wasn’t to do anything risky, the point was to do it procedurally, and respectfully, and stop the flow. Kind of the opposite of terrorism.”
The first lock snapped easily as a bicycle’s chain, he said. So did the second, which secured the valve, a four-foot wide iron wheel.
“From then on I was in this euphoric moment, and was like ‘damn, I’m in the right moment at this right place in history,’” Foster said. “And there was fear, just because any time you are dealing with heavy machinery you have to be humble.”
The valve slid easily, righty tighty lefty loosey. Foster spun – fast – wanting to complete his mission before law enforcement arrived.
“At first it was easy,” Foster said. “And then it wasn’t. It started to get really tough by the time I was thinking I was done. I had been at it for a while. I thought they had turned it down remotely.”
He gave the valve one more turn, then another for good measure. Then another, and then another. The wheel kept turning.
“He is the only one of us who actually turned off manually the pipeline,” Leonard Higgins, another valve turner who shut down a Montana pipeline the same day, said. Higgins’ target was automated, and he had more difficulty cutting the locks than he did with the valve. “Michael turned this huge wheel like a hundred times.”
Eventually, the valve could move no more. Foster locked it down with his own chain, placed the flowers as a symbolic statement for the world to move to alternate energy. Job finished, he had time to think before law enforcement arrived. He was going to jail.
In a way, his trip to North Dakota had brought his environmental activism life full circle: he grew up where the pipelines end in the Gulf of Mexico, and now he was waiting for arrest where the crude oil from Canada entered the United States. His awareness to environmental issues and global warming has taken their tolls, and then some. His insistence on reducing the family’s carbon footprint recently cost him his marriage. He rarely is able to see his two daughters.
As a child, he barely knew his parents. His mother left, and his father was gunned down outside a Houston bar; mostly his grandparents, “mom and pop,” raised him. Foster, 52, spent 20 years as a mental health therapist before he volunteered to become a valve turner.
His thoughts turned to his children, and how much he loves them, despite the fact that becoming a valve turner rewrote his family history. Although he was educating youth across Puget Sound, his own children were no longer by his side.
“I was about to break the law to stop fossil fuels, something I told them not to do because it alienates people.” Foster remembered thinking. “Plus, I would never want them to go get arrested, but we’re out of time now. I needed to do something to stop the flow and burning of oil right away, or they’re toast.”
Currently, Foster is involved with Climate Direct Action and Al Gore’s initiative, Climate Reality project. In the last five years, Foster has spoken to more than 13,000 people from behind pulpits to rallies about global warming issues. He is also a kayaktivist with the Mosquito Fleet Rapid Response Team, trying to delay oil rigs, ships, and pipelines, what he refers to as “monster death stars” for as long as possible.
The morning on October 11, 2016 was cloudy, cold. Shivers followed the euphoria of shutting down the pipeline.
“That wind was blowing. It was cold, I was glad when he showed up.”
Still amazed that the plan worked, Foster greeted the sheriff’s deputy when he arrived. The deputy nonchalantly rolled down the window, and asked what was going on.
I guess we looked like what he expected to find,” Foster said. “We were white, and we were not doing anything when they arrived. We weren’t defending, we were just standing there, bolt cutters in hand, waiting. Kinda like in my dream, we came here to shut off the pipeline.”
Foster told him, showed him everything, retraced his steps, handing over the bolt cutters.
“We agreed ahead of time that we were going to share exactly what we had done and why,” Higgins said.
Handcuffs followed, and he was later charged and arraigned with crimes that could lead to 81 years imprisonment. Jessup, and documentary filmmaker Deia Scholsberg were arrested in Walhalla, North Dakota for shutting down Transcanada’s Keystone pipeline. Schlosberg was to spend 48 hours in solitary confinement because no other women were in lockup, Foster said.
“The state was pretty heavy handed,” Foster said. “There were FBI agents there to just chat with me while I was sitting there in jail. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do this,” Foster recently returned to North Dakota for court proceedings.
“If I can think of something that can be done, and I don’t do it, I couldn’t live with myself. Whatever inconvenience I might face is nothing compared to the suffering or the vibrancy of the living world to come. There’s a world calling being made, there are voices, and creatures, and animals and plants, and people, I know they’re coming, just as sure as we have ancestors we have never met, just as we will have descendants we will never meet. I cannot be an observer.”
Foster later learned that the collective act of climate disobedience halted 15 percent of US oil consumption for the day. On October 13, 2016, oil stock prices dipped. The White House brought up oil pipeline infrastructure issues the next day. Keystone employees called him and his comrades terrorists. The five activists were involved in the “most expansive, coordinated, takeover of fossil fuel infrastructure ever attempted in the USA,” according to Reuters.
“There’s years and years of living with this despair and being aware of these issues,” Foster said. “Whatever it is, there’s that sense of we have to do something.”
“And so we stopped all the tar sands from Canada to the US. I still look at my hands sometimes and say, ‘wow, I turned off the Keystone Pipeline.’”
Michael Foster hanging yellow chrysnathemums along his own chain securing the Keystone Pipeline valve – photo provided by Michael Foster
Big oil and the state’s response While sitting in the lunchroom at Balkowitsch Enterprises, Inc., a medical product line distributor in Bismarck, Foster and Higgins recalled some of their greatest fears of shutting down the Keystone Pipeline.
With thousands of hot crude pouring through the pipeline every minute, what if something went wrong? What if they couldn’t finish their missions before police arrived?
“When Transcanda called the Sheriff, they called it a terrorist attack,” Foster said. “But they did not shut off the valve remotely. If that was your pipeline carrying 590,000 barrels of bitumen at 150 degrees F across the continent and you thought there was a terroristic attack on your pipeline, you should shut it down.”
“We were thinking that maybe they wouldn’t believe it, and that’s why we had people to live stream,” Higgins said.
Nothing did go wrong, however, except that nearly 2.3 million barrels of bitumen were stopped, for a time.
All five pipes, two in Minnesota, one in Montana, one in North Dakota, and one in Washington, were shut down simultaneously. In Pembina County’s seat, Cavalier, Foster originally faced seven charges, which have been dropped to five, with a potential 23 years in prison, he said. Cavalier had its 15 minutes of fame when a YouTube video was posted of an “alien abduction” on the city’s webcam.
“I feel like I have already gotten 50 percent off,” Foster said. “We planned for the necessity of defense, and the whole plan included staying out there until law enforcement arrived.”
A necessity defense is used to shield people who must break the law in order to prevent greater harm.
The five valve turners include Foster, Ken Ward, 59, of Corbette, Oregon, who was recently found technically guilty, but received no additional jail time in Skagit County Superior Court in Washington State. Foster’s day is coming on October 2, in Cavalier, North Dakota.
Other valve turners, Emily Johnston, 50, of Seattle, Washington, Annette Klapstein, 64, of Bainbridge Island, Washington, and Higgins, 64, of Eugene, Oregon, are still waiting their court dates.
If the State’s Attorney throws the book at Foster, he’s ready, he said.
“Let them, I don’t get to choose that,” Foster said. “I got to choose whether to cut the chains whether to turn off the flow of this poison. The court has to decide what justice looks like for me. But I am going to have the ability to tell them why I did what I did.”
Foster is no spy, he’s not a hero, he is just a middle-aged man trying to warn people about the future. After spending two days in jail, he’s grateful he has the chance to tell his story.
“I get to walk around telling this story, like I am some James Bond or Indiana Jones. I didn’t do squat, comparatively speaking, and the people who are paying the price is not me. I get all the benefits even when I mess up and draw down the wrath of the oil companies and the oil state, and they all want a piece of me, I still got all the benefits.”
He believes his chances of a not guilty verdict on October 2 aren’t good. Michael Hoffman, a Bismarck trial lawyer, is defending Foster. The nonprofit Climate Defense Project, three Harvard trained attorneys, the Civil Liberties Defense Center, and the Climate Disobedience Center, are providing support.
“I’m going to try to prove to a jury of my farmer piers that what I did was not a crime because I was protecting their crops, was protecting their fields, and I was protecting their kids,” Foster said during a speech earlier this year. “I probably won’t win, but I’m going to do a heck of a job trying to convince them to opening up that conversation, opening up that door.”
Some call him an eco terrorist, but the title doesn’t faze him or Higgins.
“Really, for me my case is about proving the crime that took place that day, October 11, was when the oil company came and cut the lock off the valve that I put there and turned that oil back on,” Foster said. “That was a crime against humanity and nature.”
“The real terrorists are the people that are perpetrating this violence to the earth,” Higgins said.
The five valve turners – Climate Direct Action photo
August 16, 2017 The life of activism is full of dizzyingly short victories, and long dry spells of defeats. When defeat hits home, Foster sleeps.
“Really, I sleep,” Foster said. “So what do I do about that? I just carry it with me, it fills my head. It distracts me. It keeps me awake. I try and write something, sometimes I manage something, sometimes I don’t. Call somebody, just in conversation find some friends and allies, and see if I can help them see things my way, that’s all I can do.”
Tension revolving around climate change issues is only worsening now with President Donald Trump in office.
“More people are joining the fight,” Higgins said. “That’s the opposite side of the same coin.”
“We’re working on a lot of false solutions,” Foster said. “And I’m having a tough time speaking out against it. A lot of people in the environmental movement put in a lot of time and hours into something that will be just a dead end. It’s a dead end.
“But I’m pretty far out there as far as policies and solutions, because I really am focused on getting the planet back to a stable climate.”
Shutting down the Canadian Keystone pipelines was the brainchild of Climate Direct Action, a nonprofit activist group founded by Foster, Higgins, and other likeminded people.
The decision stemmed from a question asked in the spring of 2016 of people involved with Climate Direct Action — would you be interested in having a conversation that would put you in danger of arrest?
“Everyone who got involved in this conversation was already 100 percent in, and once we got into the conversation there were different levels – how much do you want to be involved? There were wonderful, long conversations where people could share their feelings and fears. Everyone was free to decide on how much they felt good about.”
“There was a larger discussion that was theoretical and then that discussion finished and the core group went forward,” Higgins said. “When the core group went forward, the others were involved in some way.”
For months, Foster feared that their little group of middle-aged men and women had somehow alerted authorities, and that their mission was doomed.
“There were some messages that were sent, some calls that were made that made us go, ‘Oops.’ I had a pretty strong feeling that the sheriffs were going to be waiting for us, here in North Dakota and everywhere. Somebody, somewhere, we tripped some algorithm and they’ll be waiting for us to show up.”
Foster has only one regret about shutting down the Keystone Pipeline.
“We wrestled with the idea that shutting off the pipeline is good because it stops X barrels of bitumen, then shutting off the pipeline X times would be that many more times better,” Foster said.
“I only wish I could have stopped more oil. This system is wrong, it’s a crime, it has to stop, and I’m here to stop it.
At times, Foster’s eyes water, his voice cracks not with sadness, but with conviction. Despite the upcoming trial he jokes. “I just wish I could have locked it with some kind of radioactive, kryptonite lock.
“When they removed my padlock to reopen the flow of tar sands oil to heat the planet, they committed a crime against humanity and nature as deadly as any gas chamber,” Foster said. “Every gallon of gasoline burned to drive our kids to school traps 40 million times more heat energy over the centuries. It’s a crime with a distinct fingerprint.
“Reopening that valve legally pulled the trigger on our kids 30 years from now.”
In states where the temperatures easily dip well below zero during the winter months, changing to alternative energy is not a simple matter, Foster said. “But if we can’t live the solution, we really have no right to talk,” he said.
“That’s a question I want all of us to wrestle with every single day,” Foster said. “If burning fossil fuels is a crime against humanity, why are we still doing this? Why should I be contributing to the demise of those I love in 2017? We need to resist this system.”
Downsizing, installing rocket stoves that burn wood, solar panels, and wind power are all viable options, he said. The earth needs one trillion trees, that’s 150 new trees planted by every person on earth.
While the planet begins to cook, some people say it’s over, we blew it, now let’s party, Foster said. Others turn a blind eye, kicking the problem for future generations.
“What does it mean to be alive on a planet that is dead man walking?” Foster said. “I don’t know how bad it has to get to force change. We need everybody doing everything all the time. It’s criminal not to take action today.”
Civilization has existed for 10,000 years, Foster said, the next 10,000 years depend on the human race today.
“One person cannot change the world.” Foster’s eyes twinkle. He folds his hands and leans closer. “But one person can change the world.”
Michael Foster and Leonard Higgins, both valve turners, discuss a wet plat photograph event with Bismarck native Shane Balkowitsch – photo by C.S. Hagen
The continuing story in the fight spearheaded by the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe against Big Oil to save water and sacred indigenous lands in North Dakota
By C.S. Hagen BIG CAMP, ND – Centuries before the discovery of oil, a hungry bear lumbered into a forest and began gorging on all the huckleberries it could find, according to ancient Native American legends. The forest animals took notice, and held council, for without huckleberries a vital part of the forest would surely be lost.
After reaching a decision the forest animals timidly approached the bear and warned it to stop before the damage was irreparable; a price had to be paid. The bear needed to give something back for the carnage it created.
“But all I have is my fur and my claws,” the bear said.
“You must give up your eyesight,” the animals said.
The bear agreed, and to this day the tender, versatile fruit has an eye on every berry, and bears have never regained the eyesight they once had.
Told late at night in Big Camp, short hikes from the Camp of the Sacred Stone and Red Warriors Camp outside of Cannon Ball, the legend is the difference between life and death to the largest gathering of Native American tribes in 140 years. Not since the Battle of the Greasy Grass or Custer’s Last Stand, have the Great Sioux Nation’s Seven Council Fires, or the Oceti Sakowin, been united.
Activist wielding a rifle used during the Battle of the Greasy Grass (Custer’s Last Stand). When asked to give up the weapon, the activist did without question. – photo by C.S. Hagen
In addition, more than 200 tribes, 100 social groups and associations, at times exceeding 5,000 people of all nationalities, are not only protecting water, now they’re protecting land. Smaller camps have been established along rural roads; scouts are tirelessly on the lookout for Dakota Access activity.
On September 3, activists say Dakota Access Pipeline orchestrated a “sneak attack” that desecrated two miles of Native American burial grounds. Allegedly, an Ohio-based dog breeding and training company, known by netizens as Frost Kennels, attempted to ward off the protesters – men, women, and children – with mace and trained attack dogs. Mercenaries, activists called them. Altercations ensued, Morton County Sheriff’s Department reported, but activists say only after security personnel allegedly pushed attack dogs into the crowds. At least six activists, including a young woman bit on the breast and one child who broke out in a rash after being hit in the face with mace, sought medical help, activists said.
Activists forced security personnel to retreat after the attacks ensued. Frost Kennels admitted their personnel were at the Dakota Access Pipeline area on Facebook.
“They provoked everything that happened,” Standing Rock Sioux Chairman Dave Archambault II said. “We are not violent, but when you have companies provoking, it is hard to keep going. It’s time to stop infringing on indigenous rights.”
Law enforcement watched from a nearby hill, activists said.
“They didn’t try to deescalate either side,” Dale “Happi” Americanhorse Jr. said. “What happened on Saturday, it was hateful.”
The day after the altercation, Standing Rock Sioux tribe asked the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia to grant a temporary restraining order against Dakota Access, which was partially granted by U.S. Judge James Boasberg. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, on whose land the altercation took place, did not oppose the issuance of the restraining order.
“This is a peace and prayer camp, we’re not here to start World War III,” Greg Cournoyer Jr., a councilman for the Yankton Sioux tribe said. The Yankton Sioux Tribe filed a lawsuit in federal court on September 8, according to Native News. With Cournoyer stood a fifth generation descendant of Colonel George Armstrong Custer, Whitney Custer, who has Cheyenne blood. From Kansas, she could not stay at the camp long as sixth generation Custers waited for her at home.
Whitney Custer, fifth generation descendant of Colonel George Custer – photo by C.S. Hagen
Although 140 years ago the Sioux soundly defeated and killed her cavalier ancestor, Custer felt nothing but acceptance from the Native Americans at Big Camp.
“I have been welcomed with happiness,” Custer said. “They’ve treated me like family, I feel very welcome.”
As soon as she stopped speaking, a mosquito-like buzz filled the air. Everyone looked up and pointed toward a circling drone. Sightings of helicopters and airplanes are commonplace, but activists now face the U.S. military. In preparation for the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia decision on an injunction filed by Standing Rock Sioux Tribe to stop work along the pipeline, Governor Jack Dalrymple called in the North Dakota National Guard. Boasberg’s long-awaited decision on Friday favored the Dakota Access Pipeline, and the company was legally allowed to continue work.
“It is now clear and obvious the fight needs to be moved from Morton County to a courtroom in Washington, D.C.,” Morton County Commissioner Cody Schulz said.
US Presidential Candidate Dr. Jill Stein spray painting “I approve this message” on Dakota Access equipment – photo provided by Morton County Sheriff’s Department
Near Cannon Ball, however, local and state law enforcement officials have had their hands full, arresting 68 activists since the protests began, and have issued warrants for presidential candidate Dr. Jill Stein, and her running mate, Ajamu Baraka.
On Friday, Stein posted on her Twitter account, “Why is an arrest warrant out for me and @ajamubaraka, instead of Big Oil and the state of North Dakota?”
To ease some of law enforcement’s pressures along Highway 1806, on September 8 Dalrymple called in the military to act in a limited capacity, bolstering traffic checks and assisting law enforcement. The road is now open to the public, Archambault said, but the military presence did not disturb nor dismay him.
The day of the attack dogs, activists defending themselves – photo provided by Morton County Sheriff’s Department
“The National Guard is not going to come here to the camps,” Archambault said. “The governor is trying to alleviate some of the pressures on local law enforcement.”
“Our mission is, and in this situation is the right approach, is to have guardsmen in support of law enforcement, and let law enforcement deals with those who break the law,” Major General Alan Dohrmann of the North Dakota National Guard said during a press conference.
Not long after the news of Standing Rock’s failed petition for an injunction against Dakota Access, President Obama’s Administration and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers surprised both sides by issuing a statement that they no longer allowed Dakota Access to work on the U.S. Corps of Engineers’ lands, according to a U.S. Department of Justice press release.
“Important issues raised by the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and other tribal nations and their members regarding the Dakota Access pipeline specifically, and pipeline-related decision-making generally, remain. Therefore, the Department of the Army, the Department of Justice, and the Department of the Interior will take the following steps.”
No authorization will be given to Dakota Access on land bordering or under Lake Oahe, a distance of 20 miles in all directions, until determinations can be made whether reconsiderations of previous decisions should be made.
“Construction on the pipeline on Army Corps land bordering or under Lake Oahe will not go forward at this time.”
Additionally, the Standing Rock Sioux tribe has “highlighted the need for a serious discussion on whether there should be nationwide reform with respect to considering tribes’ views on these types of infrastructure projects.” All tribes were invited for government-to-government consultations this upcoming fall, according to the U.S. Department of Justice news release.
“It is now incumbent on all of us to develop a path forward that serves the broadest public interest,” the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers stated.
Congressman Kevin Cramer, R-N.D., called the Obama Administration’s move unfair and confusing and that the issue “deserved peaceful resolution that honors rights of lawful commerce,” in his weekly message. Senator Heidi Heitkamp, D-N.D., said the move was painful and disappointing, and offered “no light at the end of the tunnel for North Dakotans.”
In response to the alleged dog attacks, the State of North Dakota Private Investigation and Security Board has also began investigating complaints made against the private security company involved, its use of attack dogs, and if the company was authorized to work in North Dakota, counsel for the State of North Dakota Private Investigation and Security Board Monte Rogneby said.
Fargo City Commissioner John Strand spent the day after the dog attacks at Big Camp, he said, and attended ritual services performed by Native Americans there. He traveled to the area for personal reasons, and in the capacity of a Native American Commissioner, of which he has been a member for nearly three years.
“I think there have been mistakes made on both sides,” Strand said. “And that’s not necessarily surprising. On the state side we’ve done some things that have exacerbated the situation.”
Strand understands the skepticism many Native Americans have toward state and federal governments, he said.
“Don’t live in the past, or we will jaundice our views, but if we do look at the past, we need to look all the way back. Let’s meet each other, eye to eye, every chance we can. Let’s understand each other every chance we can.”
Spending time at the camps was an experience Strand will never forget, and he encouraged anyone interested to travel to Cannon Ball area to learn about what is happening.
Standing Rock Sioux Chairman Dave Archambault II – photo by C.S. Hagen
Colorful tents, horses, vehicles, and people spanned the plains behind Archambault as he addressed media representatives from national news agencies and talk shows. Flags from more than 180 tribes snapped briskly under the prairie wind. Volunteers chopped firewood, manned kitchens. Loudspeakers announced the arrival of a new tribe supporting the cause. Along the Missouri River’s banks, canoes filled with Native Americans from Alaska, Hawaii, Washington, and elsewhere docked.
Thousands, fists raised, cheered.
“There is a spirit awakening,” Archambault said.
The spirits of eagles, which have been seen flying over the camp, or the buffalo, which roam nearby, and even the spirit of thunder bringing rain on September 7, dampening the ground and halting pipeline construction workers, Angela Bibens, the camp volunteer attorney said.
“What they did, is a crime scene,” Bibens said. “Genocidal violence. They knew what they were doing, it was a sneak attack, and this is a profound expression of sovereignty here.”
Activist Joanne Spotted Bear giving a speech – photo by C.S. Hagen
Sovereignty. The legal battles that have gone nearly unnoticed by many for hundreds of years, Archambault said. Too many times federal agencies have violated the U.S. Constitution, Article VI, activist Seven Thunders from Cheyenne River said. The U.S. Constitution article states all treaties made under the authority of the United States are the supreme law of the land, which would include the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1851 giving indigenous peoples permanent rights to defined territories. The altercation took place on the U.S. Corps of Engineers land, taken from the Standing Rock Sioux tribe in the 1940s during dam construction projects.
The “black snake,” as activists call the Dakota Access Pipeline, its Wall Street and government investors, its oil drillers, and pipe layers, have taken too much from the earth, and are not heeding the warnings to give something back, Archambault said.
“Energy Transfer, who has zero human rights policies, made the decision to dig up sacred land,” Achambault said. “But if the judge rules in our favor, it’s ok. If the judge rules in their favor, it’s not the end.” He plans, through the tribe’s law firm Earthjustice, an environmental law organization, to appeal the decision.
Morton Count Sheriff’s Department sees the weeks’ events, including the altercation led by attack dogs, as a serious danger.
“A group of protesters launched a march from their camp located on U.S. Army Corps of Engineers land to where construction was taking place on the Dakota Access Pipeline, on private property,” the Morton County Sheriff’s Department stated in a news release. “They stampeded into the construction area with horses, dogs, and vehicles.”
Four security personnel were assaulted; one was take to a Bismarck hospital. Two security K-9s were also treated for injuries.
“This was more like a riot than a protest,” Morton County Sheriff Kyle L. Kirchmeier said in a press release.
“There is a legal analysis that we are squatting,” Bibens said. “But when we are forcibly removed from our lands it’s like cutting off our own umbilical chords.”
“The state is trying to get us to stoop to their level,” Cody Two Bears, a Standing Rock councilman said. “And if we do that, then we are no better than they are.”
Ronald and Eric Day from Washington hailing departing canoes along the Missouri River – photo by C.S. Hagen
Dakota Access LLC has removed equipment from U.S. Army Corps of Engineers land, officials said, but not far enough away to satisfy activists. On Tuesday morning, approximately 50 law enforcement officers from Morton County Sheriff’s Department, the North Dakota Highway Patrol, and other law enforcement agencies, arrested 22 activists north of I-94 at exit 20 near Mandan, according to the Morton County Sheriff’s Department press release. Twenty activists were charged with criminal trespass and two were found bound to equipment, charged with disorderly conduct, and hindering law enforcement, according to the press release.
Eight more activists were arrested Wednesday, two men were charged with reckless endangerment, a felony, and could face up to give years and or a USD 10,000 fine, according to Morton County Sheriff’s Department.
South of 1-94 near Mandan where 22 activists were arrested Tuesday, September 13, 2016 – photo provided by Morton County Sheriff’s Department
“Drunk Indian is Dead”
Americanhorse, known by friends as Happi, doesn’t see himself as the local hero he has become in online headlines and print media. He’s well spoken, peaceful in presence, commanding a quiet authority with his six-foot tall, 250-pound frame. Like many his age, he doesn’t know his native language, but intends to learn.
On August 31, the 26-year-old Sicangu-Oglala Lakota warrior pushed aside his fears, and leapt onto an excavator, forcing the driver to shut down the engine – in accordance with OSHA regulations. Fortunately for Americanhorse, the driver walked away, saying he got paid whether he worked or not. Wrapping his arms around a part of the machinery, he chained himself with a plastic pipe smothered in tar. For six hours, law enforcement tried hacksaws, crane lifts, pondered how to disassemble the machinery before he was freed.
And then he was arrested.
Dale “Happi” Americanhorse Jr. wearing the same clothes and bandana he wore after chaining himself to Dakota Access machinery. Photo taken at Shane Balkowitsch Studio while he was posing for a wet plate. – photo by C.S. Hagen
Most netizens applauded his bravery. A few made comments to cut off his arms, or use a bone saw.
To Americanhorse, the pending court date is a small price to pay to protect water and land. “My main focus is this fight, and it’s all over the continent, in fact it’s all over the world,” he said. “When we’re done with this fight, and we’re going to win this fight, I am going to go look for allies that came here who have their own problems and I want to be able to sit there with them and fight those fights, whatever it is they’re fighting just in solidarity for them doing the same with me.”
Americanhorse while chained to a Dakota Access excavator – online sources
Not in seven generations have Native Americans come together in such strength, he said. Old grudges have been cast aside. Daily, tribal leaders stretching from one coast of North America to the other stand to speak before the hundreds, sometimes thousands gathered. One of the most historical moments was when the Crow tribe, one of the Sioux’s oldest enemies, arrived at camp in a show of support.
Historically, the US government has tried to eradicate Native American culture, Carina Miller, a councilwoman from the Warm Springs Tribe in Oregon, said. She heeded the call to rise at 5 a.m.
“Get up. They’re back,” someone in the darkness called out. “Get up. They’re back.”
She jumped into her “pony,” a 2010 Chevy Cobalt, with friends and drove to the site, but company workers could not proceed; the ground was too wet.
Miller grew up on a reservation, the local school district did not allow her to learn her own language, and she feels the government tried to erase her and her tribe.
Activists after taking control of excavation equipment – photo provided by Morton County Sheriff’s Department
“They pit us against each other, breaking treaties, trying to wipe us out,” Miller said. “People need to understand history.” Today, her tribe fights Nestle over water bottling rights on Native American land in Oregon, she said. The gathering of so many indigenous nations has brought her hope for her homeland.
“It’s a really strong and powerful presence,” Americanhorse said. “It feels like it is going to be a lot easier for us to work together. If we can establish a way we can work together here, then in the future when another issue comes up, something threatening another indigenous tribe, we can get together.”
The road to becomming involved in the fight to protect water and sacred lands wasn’t easy, but in the end, the decision to give up his old life was. All roads pointed to Sacred Stone Camp. As a child in the public school system in Colorado, Americanhorse was shunned both by white people and other indigenous tribes, like the Utes and the Navajo, he said. He learned to shy away from outsider help, grew up with violence and chaos. Drank on the weekends.
In town, he has to constantly stay on the lookout for out-of-town pickup trucks. Where there are work trucks, man camps cannot be far away in western North Dakota. Where there are man camps, there are the cartels. And where there are cartels, sex trafficking, methamphetamine dealers, not to mention frustrated men with too much money, are in abundance.
“They prey on the indigenous women,” he said. “It’s not talked about, because they’re up here in North Dakota where everyone is supposed to be making all this money, but nobody really cares.”
He said indigenous towns such as Cannon Ball, have monstrous problems with teenage suicide, methamphetamine use, and a desperation that can be known only to the downtrodden.
“It’s weird when it comes to race,” he said. “The race issue for me was a pretty big thing. I thought all white people were racists.”
Americanhorse’s mother was the one who offered a helping hand, slyly roping him into fighting pipelines, he said. She introduced him to horses, and then to the KXL pipeline fight.
“At first I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t want to help. But that was the first step, going to the pipeline and to that fight was my first step in the right direction.”
But after the KXL pipeline project was defeated, he returned home. Went back to his normal jobs, sometimes as an assistant manager at Dominoes, at other times a casino in Colorado.
“I was walking in a world and a reality where I was worried about a certain image of me. I didn’t really think of where things came from or how they were made, and I didn’t think of the environment that much.”
His second step, he said, came when he watched a Sundance – a Native American spiritual ceremony where participants pierce their flesh with roped hooks tied to a tree. They perform ritual dances around the tree until the hooks fall out.
“You cannot bring negative thoughts to a Sundance,” he said. The experience changed his thoughts on his lifestyle, and led him to horses.
“My mother roped me in again,” he said. “I kept meeting people active against pipelines.”
She introduced him to a horse whisperer, not far from the Sacred Stone Camp. There, he learned how to approach a horse, how to groom them, how to saddle a horse, and how to ride. He now owns a two-year-old Blue Roan named Guardian, part Dakota, part Choctaw. It was after learning about horses that he decided to become involved in his second pipeline fight, the Dakota Access Pipeline. What was supposed to be a short visit has become a struggle he will not leave until it is finished.
At first, no more than fifteen people lived at the Sacred Stone Camp. With only USD 3,000 in support, they watched the excavators push aside what was once their tribe’s soil. “We couldn’t do anything at first,” he said. “We didn’t have the numbers.”
Americanhorse simulating oil in his hands at Shane Balkowitsch Studio in Bismarck – photo by C.S. Hagen
Sometimes Americanhorse went for two days without sleep. Camp life is hard, especially as their numbers grew quickly through the popularity of social media. Daily, he and others ensure activists have shelter, warmth, food, proper tents, firewood, and clean water. A school for children has been setup, a library as well. Medical crews are on constant standby to help the elderly or the sick. The Dakota prairie is mostly barren of vegetables and trees, so he gathers driftwood for fuel, and depends on donations to survive.
Smaller camps along the so-called front lines have been setup. Before sunrise, September 8, activists wearing bandanas over their faces returned from scouting maneuvers along the pipeline’s planned route. Some activists burned braided sweetgrass and waved the smoke over themselves before missions; for the company was watching them, just as they were watching the company, activists said.
They’re organized, committed, and prepared to be arrested.
Rope stretched across the highway was used to slow traffic. Any fence knocked down was quickly rebuilt. Trash was collected in buckets. Porta-potties, food, and much needed coffee were brought from Big Camp to keep the front-liners as refreshed as possible. During the quieter times, some along the front line nap, or read books. Others warm themselves around a fire sipping hot drinks and discussing recent events. Any time a two-way radio growled to life, they become instantly alert, listening for action.
Despite the hardships of camp life, or perhaps more appropriately because of it, Americanhorse found his calling.
“Being out here made me want to be more involved in this life. I want to bring our culture back to the people, our ways of life in modern day.”
Squash drying by Winona Kasto – photo by C.S. Hagen
He has also learned that not all white people are racists. In addition to the thousands of Native Americans, others from all walks of life have begun committing their time, money, and for some, their personal freedoms to protect water, and now indigenous land. “It has been through fighting pipelines that I learned to be more open minded to everything.”
Like all Native Americans, Americanhorse understands oil is important to modern society. He knows that oil also must go from point A to point B, to be refined, and then shipped across the globe. But Bakken crude will never travel under the Missouri River, where Dakota Access plans the pipe to run. More monies and research needs to be poured into alternative forms of research pertaining to solar and wind powers, he said, instead of bolstering a dangerous addiction to fossil fuels with a pipeline that will one day leak.
“You cannot ignore this many nations coming together,” Americanhorse said. “You can’t see that and challenge it. This billion-dollar industry has never seen anything like this before.” Losing this fight, for Americanhorse, is not an option.
“There are more people involved in this fight than you know, and this pipeline is affecting a lot of people.”
Some of the activists are weekend warriors. Some are drifters, traveling by car, by bus, by hitching rides. Others like Richard Fisher, half African American and half Native American, gave up his 19-dollar-an-hour job in Sisseton, South Dakota to volunteer in the camp’s kitchen.
Richard Fisher, a volunteer cook from South Dakota preparing evening meal – photo by C.S. Hagen
“I was born for this,” Fisher said. He stirred a cauldron of chili for the camp’s evening meal. “My dad was a Black Panther and my mother was with AIM.”
One of the camp’s head chefs and a traditional cook, Winona Kasto, is in charge of feeding any hungry mouth that comes her way. “It’s never ending, but it’s not tiring,” she said. “I came here because of the need to feed the people.” Usually, Kasto cooks wojapi, or a berry pudding, prepares dried squash, dried corn, stews, traditional native food, and in her spare time, if she can find any, holds classes for the youth to learn old indigenous recipes.
Americanhorse has given up his old way of life as well and returned to one much older. When there are no more pipelines or other issues to fight, he plans to raise horses, help his mother on her ranch where she owns breeds whose bloodlines can be traced to Sitting Bull’s herd.
Everywhere in the camp people are smiling, introducing themselves. Children play cops and robbers, volleyball, basketball to pass the calmer moments. Native American drummers sing traditional songs from all corners. At night, dozens gather around the fire at the Sacred Circle to pray and dance, a tradition that was once banned inside the United States.
Cooks at Big Camp, Winona Kasto, traditional cook, at right – photo by C.S. Hagen
“The drunk Indian is dead,” Americanhorse said. “There are a lot more people going in the cultural ways. I see the healing. I look forward to seeing other cultures come up and bring their structures up, and that way witness other cultural presences from every other nation.”
Americanhorse’s story is endemic among many Native Americans gathered outside of Cannon Ball. Far too many appear to come from troubled childhoods, addictions, and are searching for identity. Like confessions, their stories are told nightly around the Sacred Fire. They are returning to their roots and ancestral traditions, and discovering for the first time a peace they’ve never known before, while at the same time learning to accept all cultures.
One canoe rower spoke to a crowd of onlookers before pulling into the Missouri River.
“When you pull an oar you dig deep. It hurts, but it is supposed to.” The repetitive movement, not unlike meditation and prayer, helped him heal from a troubled childhood, he said.
“This is a very historical event, foretold by our elders that the Seventh Generation would rise up,” Layha Spoonhunter, an eastern Shoshone said. “We are seeing that here, and in many ways, we’ve already won. We’re going to win with the prayers and the songs that have been offered here, that is our strength and that will take us to victory.”
Oil Profiteers
Seventeen worldwide banks and financial institutions are backing Energy Transfer Partners, the parent company of Dakota Access LLP, according to the Food and Water Watch. The banks include: Citibank, Morgan Stanley, JPMorgan Chase & Co., Wells Fargo, Credit Suisse, DNB Capital, Royal Bank of Canada, US Bank, BNP Paribus, Royal Bank of Scotland, TD Securities, ABN AMRO, Philadelphia’s DNB First Bank, ICBC London, SMBC Nico Securities, and Societe Generale, and they’ve extended a USD 3.75 billion credit line. More than thirty other banks are provided general financing for Sunoco Logistics Partners LP and Energy Transfer Partners.
Standing Rock Sioux Tribe flag with ever-present helicopter in distance – photo by C.S. Hagen
Dakota Access LLC is a joint venture between Phillips 66 and Energy Transfer Partners LP, and recently Sunoco Logistics Partners LP, Enbridge, and Marathon Oil purchased up to 37 percent stake in the pipeline.
“I think it is important to see the forces behind this particular pipeline as the same forces behind numerous other pipelines across the country, both to support fracking for tight oil as well as fracking for shell gas all toward maximizing production of oil and gas, when the science is clear we need to maximize what we keep in the ground,” Hugh MacMillan, a senior researcher for Food and Water Watch said.
“If you ask Morgan Stanley, they said a year ago that the oil producers are getting into ‘prison shape,’ and without irony,” MacMillan said the company reported in 2015. “So, you know, this is a long-term, these are long-term investments from the banks. They fully expect the United States to maximize its production of oil and gas through widespread fracking.”
Investors do not only include banks. Politicians are also involved.
Senator John Hoeven, R-N.D., a member of the U.S. Senate Committee on Indian Affairs, has invested in companies involved in the Bakken oil patch, including Energy Transfer Partners and the San Antonio-based independent petroleum refining company Valero Energy Corporation, both for up to USD 250,000, and not less than USD 100,001, according to the United States Senate. Hoeven has also invested up to USD 100,000 in Kinder Morgan Inc., an energy infrastructure company, and up to USD 1,000 in Kinder Morgan Energy Partners, a subsidiary of Kinder Morgan. Additionally, investments of up to USD 250,000 were made with Union Pacific Corp., a crude rail transporter, and up to USD 250,000 in CSX Corp, which is a North Dakota crude rail carrier, according to the U.S. Senate. Hundreds of thousands of dollars have been invested by Hoeven into oil wells owned by Whiting Petroleum Corporation and ExxonMobil, and both companies have donated to Hoeven’s 2016 senate campaign, according to Open Secrets.org, Center for Responsive Politics.
Hoeven, who was known for his support of TransCanada’s Keystone XL tar sands pipeline, and supports building the Dakota Access Pipeline, also has personally invested in 68 different oil-producing wells in North Dakota listed under the 2012-company Mainstream Investors, LLC, according to the United States Senate financial disclosure form. Continental Resources, Inc., the company which is ran by its CEO, Harold Hamm, a campaign energy adviser to Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump, owns 17 of the wells.
Additionally, in 2016, Continental Resources, Inc. contributed USD 10,200 to Hoeven’s campaign, and since 2010 Hamm with his former wife Sue contributed USD 8,000 to Hoeven, according to Oil Change International’s Dirty Energy Money database. ExxonMobil contributed USD 10,000, and Whiting Petroleum Corporation has contributed USD 2,750 to Hoeven’s 2016 senate campaign.
“It is certainly a confluence of interests,” MacMillan said. “They would argue it is not a conflict of interest because it’s all in the public interest. He’s obviously up there talking about what a wonderful thing all this fracking is in North Dakota. Has an attitude of ‘get off my back, we’re doing a good job,’ but when coupled with investing in these wells, it doesn’t look so good.”
Hoeven said he sold his shares in Energy Transfer in 2015, but owns other shares in other energy companies. He does not see his investments as a conflict of interest and has “always been a strong supporter of energy development in our state and across the country.
“We need to build infrastructure to move energy safely and efficiently and modern pipelines continue to be the safest way to move oil and gas around the country,” Hoeven said.
North Dakota’s “wild west” oil boom kept the state afloat during recent economic downturns, but the real national and state costs are only beginning to show, researchers report.
Native American activist, or water protector, during rally – photo by C.S. Hagen
An April 27, 2016 study released by Duke University, funded by the National Science Foundation, and the Natural Resources Defense Council, and published in the Environmental Science & Technology magazine shows that accidental wastewater spills from “unconventional oil production in North Dakota have caused widespread water and soil contamination.” More than 9,700 wells have been drilled in the Bakken region of North Dakota in the past decade, which led to more than 3,900 brine spills, primarily from faulty pipes, the report states.
The water studied in some spill sites was unsafe to drink, the study reported.
High levels of ammonium, selenium, lead, and salts have been found in the soil; streams have been polluted by wastewater, which contain contaminants, according to the study. Soil along spill sites has also been contaminated with radium, a radioactive element.
“Many smaller spills have also occurred on tribal lands, and as far as we know, no one is monitoring them,” Avner Vengosh, a researcher and a professor of Earth and Ocean Sciences at Duke University said. “People who live on the reservations are being left to wonder how it might affect their land, water, health and way of life.”
The spills are primarily coming from pipelines in the Bakken area, he said. The spill areas have not affected reservoirs for human drinking water, but some are close. Everyone shudders when news of an oil spill breaks headlines; brine spills are far more frightening, he said.
“Nature cannot heal from inorganic brine spills,” Vengosh said. “The contaminants are going to stay. You can dilute and over time this will help, but the actual concentration will remain.”
In other words, areas where the brine spills have occurred in the Bakken region must be completely removed and disposed of. Radiation, which could spread by wild animals, is another concern that is difficult to control.
“And the more wells you drill, the more spill you have,” Vengosh said.
In 2014, one of North Dakota’s largest spills sent approximately one million gallons of brine into Bear Den Bay on the Fort Berthold Reservation, a quarter mile upstream from a drinking water intake on Lake Sakakawea, according to the report.
More recently in 2015, CSX Corp train carrying hazardous materials derailed in Kentucky, and in 2014 a CSX Corp train hauling North Dakota crude derailed, bursting into flames in West Virginia, spilling more than 800 barrels into the James River.
Transporting crude oil by rail or by truck is in decline, analysts say, primarily due to costs. Pipelines are cheaper. Since 2010, however, more than 3,300 incidents of crude oil and liquefied natural gas leaks or ruptures have occurred in pipelines within the United States, according to the Center for Effective Government. The incidents have killed 80 people, injured 389, and have created $2.8 billion in damages, not to mention the lingering effect on humans, and the release of toxic chemicals into soil, waterways, and air. Nearly one third of the spills since 2010 came from pipelines carrying crude oil, as the Dakota Access Pipeline plans to carry.
Researchers say more money and attention needs to focus on alternative energy sources, and not bolstering old methods for burning fossil fuels.
“The solutions are there, not just for producing renewable energy, but for conservation and efficiency,” MacMillan said. “It’s just a matter of building it out. We don’t have the commitments from state and federal governments or private sectors to sink the money to make that happen.”
Native American canoe rowing toward Camp of the Sacred Rock on Missouri River – photo by C.S. Hagen
The main force behind the Dakota Access Pipeline is the founder of Energy Transfer Partners, Kelcy Warren, worth USD 7.3 billion, according to Bloomberg.
Warren’s fortunes have come from transporting crude oil others pull from underground, according to Bloomberg. His mansion, a 23,000-square-foot home on 10 acres of land in north Dallas features 13 bathrooms, a chip-and-putt green, a pole-vault pit, a four-lane bowling alley, and a 200-seat theater. On his ranch near Austin, he raises giraffes, javelinas, and Asian oxen. He also ranches in eastern Texas and southwest Colorado, has a house on Lake Tahoe, and an island off the coast of Honduras.
“To be where we are today, it’s like a dream,” Warren said in the May 18, 2015 Bloomberg article. “I swear to God, I almost think we did it without anybody noticing.”
The Dakota Access Pipeline began in May 2016, and if finished will snake through the states of North Dakota, South Dakota, Iowa, and Illinois, where it will join up with a second 774-mile pipeline to Nederland, Texas. More than 570,000 barrels of Bakken crude oil will pass through the pipeline per day if it is finished third quarter 2016, according to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
The upside-down flag symbolizes distress, yet some activists are calling for the flag to be turned upright. – photo by C.S. Hagen
