2Doubtful of the validity of this article, they decided to put it into practice by going fishing off-reservation. They were promptly arrested by game wardens and were given a court date a few days later. Although the first verdict delivered by a Hayward (Wisconsin) judge found them guilty, tribal attorneys took over the case and a ten-year-long battle started for the Lac Courte Oreilles tribe, ending with the historic 1983 Voigt decision that reaffirmed Ojibwe treaty rights (Lac Courte Oreilles Band of Lake Superior Chippewa Indians v. Voigt). Although this case was not directly related to mining, the Voigt ruling in favor of the tribe would come to play a fundamental role in reshaping the relationship between the Ojibwe tribes that had become involved in the Lac Courte Oreilles case, and the state of Wisconsin, particularly in the context of mining permits and the legitimacy of reserved rights.

3In the seventes, the US Bureau of Mines systematically conducted mineral evaluations of Native territories, and in 1976, some of the largest zinc and copper ore deposits were discovered in Wisconsin (Gedicks 51). According to the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the mineral deposits were located on the Sokaogon Chippewa Reservation, the Lac du Flambeau Chippewa Reservation, the Lac Courte Oreilles Chippewa Reservation, and the Potawatomi Reservation. The same year, Exxon Minerals and Kennecott announced their plans to open mines in Crandon and Ladysmith, Wisconsin, where two of the largest zinc and copper deposits were discovered. The Crandon mine was located only a mile away from the Ojibwe wild rice crops, and the Ladysmith mine sat only three hundred feet away from the Flambeau River where Ojibwe tribe members spearfished walleyes. Exxon’s proposal included the dumping of toxic waste water into the streams of lakes that drained into the Wolf River and therefore constituted a threat to the wild rice crops due to the “bioaccumulation of heavy metals in aquatic organisms and changes in the natural species composition of the area” (Brooks 10). The potential contamination of the wild rice crops was seen as an existential threat to the survival of the tribal community, as Arlyn Ackley, Sokaogon Chippewa Tribal Chairman at the time, explained in an interview with the Milwaukee Sentinel Journal in 1994: “Our people stand to lose our very existence. Our wild rice beds will be devastated. Our cultural and spiritual traditions will be seriously damaged—or destroyed” (qtd. in Gedicks, 2002 136).

4The Crandon and Ladysmith mines and the struggle for the recognition of treaty rights shed light on the ambiguity that existed regarding the practice of reserved rights off-reservation. The uncertainty with respect to the legal validity of reserved rights evident from the first guilty conviction delivered in 1978 allowed for the emergence and the formation of multiple groups in the area that campaigned for the complete denial of Indigenous treaty rights, turning the conflict into a racial issue. Many sport fishermen from Wisconsin rallied under the guise of environmental consciousness, and demanded a ban on fishing and harvesting rights off-reservation calling treaties “threats to natural resources” (Knight 1). The attacks on Ojibwe reserved rights and their practice on “ceded” territory grew even stronger with the 1986 election of Governor Tommy Thompson, who had voiced his opposition to Ojibwe spearfishing practices during his campaign and publicly expressed his enthusiasm regarding the Crandon mine project (Silvern 165). The threat to Ojibwe reserved rights starting in 1974 with the Tribble case, and the escalation in 1976 with the discovery of the zinc and copper deposits, led to a multifaceted conflict that raised the issues of race and politics, environmental justice, and tribal-state collaboration in the context of mining permits.

5This article is part of a larger research project on Indigenous sovereignty and mining permits in the United States. In the form of a case study, it focuses on Ojibwe tribes in Wisconsin and the particular set of events that led to the emergence of rural collaborative movements against metallic mining. Both the Crandon/Ladysmith projects and the Tribble case have been the subject of many publications, mostly from local media news outlets and academics from Wisconsin, due to the violent turn of events on boat landings in the 1980s and the 1990s.

6Among the Wisconsin-based academics, this article relies more precisely on the foundational works of geographer Zoltán Grossman and sociology professor Al Gedicks, who, as residents of the state, participated in the anti-mining movement described in this article, and as academics published significant analysis of the events they experienced. Their observations highlighted the importance of treaty rights and treaty provisions such as reserved hunting, fishing and gathering rights, and of perceptions surrounding the application of these rights by non-Indigenous people in Wisconsin. Both scholars recognize the assertion of treaty rights as a triggering event for the formation of grassroots rural collaborations for environmental protection: “Treaties and sovereign status offer Native nations unique legal powers to protect the local environment and economy for Indians and non-Indians alike, strengthening intercultural cooperation based on a territorial attachment to a common place” (Gedicks and Grossman, 2001 201). Al Gedicks and Zoltan Grossman are widely recognized in Wisconsin for their work in building bridges between Indigenous rights organizations and the environmental movement. In an article published after the twentieth celebratory ceremony for the Crandon mine purchase, Environmental Director for the Sokaogon Chippewa Community Tina L. Van Zile acknowledged Grossman and Midwest Treaty Network co-founder Debra McNutt’s activism stating:

Their grass-root organization worked with many other Wisconsin grass-root organizations, combining their forces and joining the Tribes in the fight against the proposed Crandon Mine. They were instrumental in leading “speaking tours” in towns all along the Wolf River. The education they provided to people who would be affected downstream from the Sokaogon Chippewa Reservation was pivotal in gaining support. The proposed mine was not just a threat to the Sokaogon people, but everyone downstream because Swamp Creek, which runs through the reservation, is at the headwaters of the Wolf River (Van Zile 2023).

7Reserved rights and their perception by non-Indigenous people as a topic of research is not unique to Wisconsin, and many researchers have demonstrated the importance of non-Indigenous perceptions of Native rights on how they are apprehended by federal, state, and local governments. In Uneven Ground, David Wilkins and K. Tsianina Lomawaima ask why “[…] Americans generally recognize tribal rights to reserved lands, but frequently refuse to recognize other reserved rights such as rights to hunt, fish, or gather, even when rights are expressly spelled out in treaties?” (119). Discussing the etymological link between the words “reservation” and “reserved rights,” they emphasize the contradiction between the commonly accepted notion of Indigenous people having reserved lands (reservations), and having reserved rights. Echoing the work of Vine Deloria Jr. and Clifford Lytle in American Indians, American Justice, Wilkins and Lomawaima point to legal confusion when trying to identify the reason why non-Indigenous people often oppose reserved rights (119).

8Drawing from Deloria, Lytle, Wilkins and Lomawaima’s findings, Grossman’s and Gedicks’ works are particularly interesting as their observations introduce the concept of reserved rights as triggers for interracial environmental collaboration in rural settings, instead of triggers for violence and divisions. Relying on their observations, this article was developed as a preliminary and preparatory work for a field study in the Midwestern state. It will demonstrate how, by dramatically changing the local perception of reserved rights between 1974 and 2003, the Ojibwe tribes of Wisconsin were able to successfully oppose mining projects and reaffirm their treaty rights and sovereignty, which in turn led to the emergence of inter-tribal, interstate and interracial organizations with a common objective of environmental protection and justice.

9I will begin with an analysis of the legal context which demonstrates how local courts and the state of Wisconsin participated in creating ambiguity and hostility towards reserved rights. The next section of this paper is a case study of the Crandon and Ladysmith projects and the violent opposition of local sport fishermen, which resulted from political strategies and corporate/state collaboration to undermine treaty rights. And finally, this article will focus on the ways in which the Ojibwe tribes were able to shift the perspective of local residents regarding reserved rights, and how this shift led to the emergence of collaborative groups that used treaty rights as a tool to successfully oppose metallic mining in the Great Lakes region, providing environmental justice to the tribes and environmental protection to non-tribal residents of Wisconsin.

Ojibwe Treaty Rights in Wisconsin: Legitimacy and Reaffirmation

12For the Ojibwe tribes, the decision meant that off-reservation spearfishing and wild rice harvesting were protected rights. Yet, despite the 1905 ruling, the state of Wisconsin attempted to extinguish Native American treaty rights during the first half of the twentieth century in an effort to seize land for the construction of dams (Satz 91). The first example illustrating the state’s attempts was in 1908, when the state Supreme Court ruled that Ojibwe off-reservation reserved rights were abrogated by the creation of the state of Wisconsin. According to the judges, allowing off-reservation fishing rights to be exempt from state laws regulating hunting and fishing would constitute an infringement of the state’s sovereignty: “to exempt such Indians from state laws regulating hunting and fishing within the borders of a state after its admission into the Union would deprive the state of its sovereignty” (State v. Morrin). The ruling would be cited in later court rulings in Wisconsin, creating a hostile environment for Ojibwe tribe members looking to exercise their reserved rights (Wilkinson 395).

15In Victims of Progress, anthropologist John Bodley explains the necessity for colonial powers to extend their dominion over resource management as a means to extinguish tribal sovereignty. He states that “little ‘progress’ can be made as long as tribal peoples remain autonomous sovereign societies, small nations that are both politically and economically self-sufficient” (37). “Progress,” in this context, refers specifically to the industrial and commercial development of colonial entities, and he argues that resource management is a colonial tool required to ensure absolute control over Indigenous communities by stripping them of the resources necessary for their survival. In the context of Ojibwe reserved rights, the repeated attempts by the state of Wisconsin to extinguish treaty rights therefore could be seen as a continuation of Euro-American colonialism, and the dispute over resource management, an attempt to diminish Ojibwe sovereignty.

The Anti-Treaty Movement: Environmental Activism and Race in Rural Wisconsin

16The conflict over Ojibwe reserved rights falls within the broader context of settler colonialism which continues to dictate the intergovernmental relations between federally recognized tribes and the federal government. Patrick Wolfe defines settler colonialism as a “system” rather than a historical event of the past: “invasion is a structure not an event” which “destroys to replace” (2). Within this system, he emphasizes the importance of discourse and authority in settler colonial contexts, which become oppressive tools to further the colonial project (3). Although Wolfe primarily examines the discourse produced by anthropologists, this article will focus on the political, and social discourse produced in Wisconsin in the late 1980s and 1990s by local governments and supremacist groups, echoing Wolfe’s assertion that discourse and authority actively participate in furthering the settler colonial project. The spearfishing controversy is particularly interesting as it demonstrates how different objectives converged to create a misleading discourse on Indigenous practices such as spearfishing to satisfy political and racist ambitions. By controlling both the narrative around Ojibwe spearfishing activities through political campaigns and violent actions, and the media, different actors exacerbated racial tensions in Northern Wisconsin which prevented the actualisation of Ojibwe sovereignty.

17When Judge Doyle ruled in favor of the Lac Courte Oreilles in 1983, opposition immediately organized among white sport fishing groups. Aware of the tensions, Governor Anthony Earl, who previously had served as Secretary of the Department of Natural Resources, issued Executive Order 31 ten days after the ruling in an attempt to ease tensions. The Executive Order aiming at promoting collaboration recommended state agencies “to work in a spirit of cooperation with the goals and aspirations of American Indian Tribal Governments, to seek out a mutual atmosphere of education, understanding and trust with the highest level of tribal government leaders” (Executive Order 31). Despite his efforts, the misleading media coverage of the 1983 ruling characterizing the reaffirmation of reserved rights as special rights from the federal government sparked outrage in rural Wisconsin, and anti-treaty groups emerged all over the state (Grossman, 2017 212). Simultaneously, Exxon and Kennecott had successfully marketed their projects as “clean” mines through public relations campaigns in the late 1970s in an effort to counter any environmental concerns form local residents (Gedicks, 1993 70). In 1976, a resident of Rusk County near Ladysmith stated in a newspaper article: “at first, most of us thought a copper mine would bring prosperity to this area,” demonstrating the power and reach of the public relations campaigns that sought to market the mines as economic opportunities for rural areas of Wisconsin (Rebufonni 25). As support for the mines grew, tensions increased between tribe members and Wisconsinites, and reserved rights became the main focus of both anti-treaty sport fishermen and mining corporations looking to develop their projects on “ceded” territory.

18In 1985, Larry Peterson, a paper mill foreman, founded Protect Americans’ Rights and Resources (PARR), an organization that gathered recreational sport fishermen and anti-treaty Wisconsinites. The group considered spearfishing a dangerous practice and campaigned for the protection of the pristine lakes of Wisconsin where recreational fishing attracted millions of sport fishermen every year. Under the guise of environmental consciousness, the group discriminated against Ojibwe spearfishermen and organized violent protests at boat landings around Wisconsin where protesters yelled racial slurs and carried posters that read “Save a Spawning Walleye, Spear a Pregnant Squaw” (Grossman, 2017 212). As the protests turned more and more violent, PARR’s leadership tried to distance themselves from the racist protesters in an effort to counter the accusations of a race-based anti-treaty movement. In 1987, PARR organized a two-day convention gathering delegates from twelve states that shared their views on Indigenous treaty rights. A participant told the Leader Telegram, “I say a sad day in America has arrived on this 200^th anniversary of our Constitution, a day which allows a special class of citizens to have rights far exceeding all others without obligation or responsibility to America,” once again portraying the organization as anti-discriminatory and environmentally conscious (Knight 1). Disagreements among protesters led to the emergence of a more militant group called Stop Treaty Abuse (STA) presided by Dean Crist, and funded by the sales revenue of a beer he named Treaty Beer. Both organizations joined the nationwide anti-treaty movement led by the Citizens Equal Rights Alliance (CERA) whose objectives were “equal rights, environmental protection, and protecting the local tourism-based economy” (Grossman 2017, 213). The anti-treaty movement in Wisconsin grew in popularity by successfully portraying reserved rights as discriminatory and as a threat to the local tourist economy. PARR often referenced Martin Luther King Jr. and Apartheid South Africa:

The good people of northern Wisconsin will no longer accept being branded as racist because we share Martin Luther King’s dream. A dream that how many fish a person can catch will be judged not by the color of his skin but the strength of his fishing line. […] Any person who opposes Apartheid in South Africa but supports American Indian treaty rights is giving new meaning to the word hypocrisy. (Hermening cited in Grossman, 2017 213)

20The reason for the massive support PARR and STA received in Northern Wisconsin can be explained by analyzing the actions of state agencies and political figures in the 1980s who legitimized the claims of the organizations. During his gubernatorial campaign, Tommy Thompson voiced his opposition to Ojibwe spearfishing on many occasions, and in June 1986, he gave a speech in front of 230 PARR activists, stating: “Spearing is wrong, regardless of what treaties, negotiations or federal courts may say. […] Spearing game fish while they are spawning is not a good fishing or sporting practice” (Mayers 17). The statement legitimized PARR’s objective to extinguish Ojibwe treaty rights, but also legitimized their claims that spearfishing was a dangerous practice for the walleye population, emphasizing the environmental argument pushed by the organization. When he became governor, his pro-mining stance became evident when he appointed James Klauser as Secretary of Administration in 1987. Klauser had worked as chief lobbyist for Exxon Minerals when the company first applied for a permit to mine in Crandon and he had told the Wisconsin Manufacturers and Commerce Association that “the state could host up to ten major metal mines by the year 2000, the Ladysmith mine being one of them” (Gedicks, 2002 96). Mining was a key issue during Thompson’s campaign and administration. Aware of the obstacle posed by Ojibwe reserved rights, the Governor showed his support for PARR by attending conferences organized by the association with Klauser by his side, and formed an Ad Hoc Task Force on Mining presided by Stanton Helland, the chair of the Natural Resources Board which worked as the “citizens’ board” overseeing the Department of Natural Resources (Grossman, 2017 212; Gedicks, 1993 97). In an attempt to further reinforce his influence over resource management, Thompson significantly reduced the Wisconsin Public Intervenor’s Office budget, which extinguished the office’s ability to properly act as an ombudsman for Wisconsin’s natural resources (Gedicks, 2002 169).

21Prior to Thompson’s election, the Department of Natural Resources had already paved the way for PARR’s unsubstantiated claims that Ojibwe spearfishing constituted a threat to the fish population resulting in even more public support for the racist organization. In a 1979 report, the state agency imposed a walleye bag limit to counter the noted decrease in walleye fish population. The bag limit was only imposed on lakes where Ojibwe speared walleyes, implying a direct correlation between decreasing fish population and the Indigenous practice. In 1990, Chairman Daniel Inouye of the U.S. Senate Committee on Indian Affairs ordered an investigation of the spearfishing controversy, and the three-member panel found that the DNR had “manipulated fish statistics ‘so as to shift the blame for inconsistent fisheries management from the DNR to the Chippewa’ in a way that seemed ‘coordinated to inflame anti-Indian emotions’” (Strickland, qtd. in Grossman, 2017 220). When reviewing the evidence, Judge Crabb, who had taken over the case after Judge Doyle’s death, agreed with the Committee’s findings stating that “these restrictions would have been imposed even if the tribes’ treaty rights had not been judicially recognized. It is purely fortuitous that the time for their implementation came shortly after the start up of Indian spring spearing” (Lac Courte Oreilles v. State of Wisconsin). The bag limit argument would become instrumental to PARR and STA’s claims that Ojibwe reserved rights constituted a threat to the pristine lakes of the region, and the organizations used this as evidence that extinguishing Ojibwe treaties was necessary to protect the tourism economy.

22By 1990, Northern Wisconsin was so deeply divided on the issue of Ojibwe treaty rights that a study conducted by the organization Witness for Nonviolence showed that 66 percent of residents of Northern Wisconsin opposed Ojibwe spearfishing, and reported 279 incidents of race-based violence (Midwest Treaty Network Report 3). In 1991, the protests became so violent that Judge Crabb issued a permanent federal injunction prohibiting STA and PARR’s members to interfere with spearing activities (Lac du Flambeau v. Stop Treaty Abuse). With the threat of being prosecuted and the emergence of pro-treaty organizations that worked to educate people on the importance of reserved rights, the anti-treaty movement gradually lost the support of local residents who started to shift their attention towards the mining industry.

The Anti-Mining Movement: Collaboration and Reserved Rights

23In June 1988, Walt Bresette, a member of the Red Cliff Band of the Lake Superior Ojibwe and a prominent figure of the Ojibwe environmentalist movement, told the Wisconsin State Journal that “sooner or later, people in Northern Wisconsin will realize that the environmental threat is more of a threat to their lifestyle than Indians who go out and spear fish. […] I think, in fact, that we have more things in common with the anti-Indian people than we have with the state of Wisconsin” (Balousek 35). The statement foreshadowed the unprecedented events that took place in the decades following the spearfishing controversy, which saw the emergence of treaty rights and environmental activists’ collaboration, working together using reserved rights as a tool to successfully oppose metallic mining in the region of the Great Lakes. During an interview conducted with Al Gedicks, an emeritus Professor of the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse who has been working with the Mole Lake/Sokaogon tribe since 1975, he described to me the relationship between Ojibwe tribes in Northern Wisconsin and environmental organizations in the years prior to the spearfishing controversy (Gedicks, 2024). He explained how the almost hostile relationship often resulted in the tribes being portrayed as unreliable stewards of their environment that needed to be replaced as stewards for the benefit of environmental protection agencies, considered to be more efficient in managing natural resources. He also described how, in the early years of the Crandon mine proposal, Exxon’s reputation as one of the most successful companies in the world reassured many environmental organizations that gave credit to Exxon’s ability to properly assess the environmental consequences of the proposed mine. However, doubts started emerging during the early phase of the permit application process when Exxon’s biologist toured the lakes that surrounded the project. Ojibwe tribes who had opposed the Crandon mine as soon as the company had applied for the permit because of its proximity to their wild rice beds, and environmental organizations accompanied the biologist who disregarded their concerns by mistaking wild rice for “a bunch of lake weeds” (Gedicks, 1993 61). This error emphasized the necessity for environmental organizations and tribes to review the environmental impact studies conducted by the company due to their unfamiliarity with the fauna and flora of the project area.

24In 1983, the same year Judge Doyle reaffirmed Ojibwe treaty rights, Exxon conducted a socio-economic study of the areas most impacted by the Crandon mine. In its findings, the study stated that “the means of subsistence on the reservations” would “become less than effective,” and would require tribe members to leave “the reservation and the local study area in order to be successful in finding employment opportunities” (Research and Planning Consultants 316). The Voigt ruling and the presence of wild rice only a mile from the Crandon project, in addition to Exxon’s own study admitting to the mine having dramatic consequences for the tribes meant that the permit would now have to meet new requirements in order to be delivered, and the impact of the project on the water quality of the lakes and rivers surrounding Crandon had become undeniable. PARR and STA, who had been claiming for years that their main objective was environmental protection, and not race, had been progressively losing support from local residents because of the impact of the violent protests on the local tourist economy with many tourists being deterred from traveling to Northern Wisconsin in fear of the violence (Grossman, 2017 224). In addition to the 1991 injunction issued by Judge Crabb, the notable absence of any PARR and STA representative during the Clean Water Rule public hearings led to the racist organizations losing any credibility with local residents who had believed their claims regarding their dedication to protecting the pristine lakes of the region with one sport fisherman telling the Milwaukee Sentinel: “Not once did I see anyone testify who represented Protect Americans’ Rights and Resources, or Stop Treaty Abuse. The Indians were always there” (Schmitz 8). A shift in how reserved rights were perceived slowly started occurring as anti-treaty groups began losing support, and a 1992 survey illustrated the shift as it stated that 73 percent of Wisconsinites were in favour of “protection of Chippewa treaty rights but close regulation of off-reservation fishing and hunting by the state” (Bobo and Tuan 198). The survey drastically differed from the 1990 study conducted by Witness for Nonviolence, and opened the door for grassroots collaborative movements that were starting to emerge as a response to the mining projects developing in the state.

25Since the discovery of multiple ore deposits in Wisconsin in the early 1970s, two major projects had become the main focus of anti-mining activist groups who initially started their work separate from the Ojibwe treaty rights organizations (Grossman, 2017 231). When Kennecott first applied for a permit to mine, anti-mining groups worked independently from the Lac Courte Oreilles tribe because the water flowed away from the reservation which meant the project did not directly impact the tribe. Anti-mining groups raised enough concerns regarding potential water degradation that the Department of Natural Resources denied Kennecott the permit. In 1987, after Thompson’s election, and encouraged by his pro-mining statements, Kennecott, who had since been bought by Rio Tinto, reapplied for a permit. In an effort to rally as many supporters as possible, anti-mining activist Sandy Lyon asked Lac Courte Oreilles tribal chair Gaiashkibos to participate in opposing the proposed mine. The involvement of the Lac Courte Oreilles tribe relied on the presence of medicinal plants on the Flambeau River located near the Ladysmith project, and not on treaty-protected reserved rights.

27The presence of medicinal plants in the Flambeau River did not constitute a treaty-protected activity, and despite these efforts to oppose the mine, the Department of Natural Resources issued a permit for the Ladysmith mine that operated between 1993 and 1997. In 2012, Judge Crabb found the Flambeau Mining Company guilty of violating the Clean Water Act in a lawsuit filed by the Wisconsin Resource Protection Council and the Center for Biological Diversity. The two organizations demonstrated that the Ladysmith mine had discharged contaminated water in Flambeau Lake and its tributaries (WRPC v. Flambeau Mining Company). Although unsuccessful, the Ladysmith opposition sheds light on the importance of environmental and tribal collaboration, and shows the pivotal role treaty rights can play in legal proceedings as illustrated by the Crandon mine opposition in which the Sokaogon Ojibwe opted for a clear reaffirmation and application of their treaty rights to face Exxon Minerals.

29When comparing the alliances that emerged from the Ladysmith opposition, WWEP stands out and illustrates the evolution of the anti-mining/pro-treaty movement in Wisconsin as it included within its leadership, formerly opposing groups like sport fishermen and Ojibwe treaty rights activists. In Unlikely Alliances, Zoltán Grossman tells the story of the former chairman for the Langlade County Republican Party and president of the Wolf River chapter of Trout Unlimited, Herbert Buettner, who became one of the tour speakers for WWEP, in charge of educating the public on the dangers of the mine (Grossman, 2017 246). Buettner’s involvement in WWEP speaking tours in 1996 demonstrates how many sport fishermen came to realize that the development of metallic mines in Northern Wisconsin constituted a greater threat to the fish population than spearfishing ever had.

From Environmental Collaboration to Political Action

30The combination of the Crandon mine and the spearfishing controversy put reserved rights at the forefront of every discussion in Northern Wisconsin, and resulted in an unprecedented amount of collaboration between local sportfishing groups and pro-treaty activists. The collaborative efforts to oppose the mine took on many forms, political, social, cultural and spiritual, and resulted in the emergence of many organizations that gathered environmentalists, legal experts, Native American spiritual guides, church leaders and pro-treaty activists, who all shared a common goal of protecting the area from damaging industrial projects and protecting Ojibwe tribes from discrimination. With the reaffirmation of reserved rights in 1983, and the multiple pending mining permits, Ojibwe tribes organized through various means to ensure the respect of their treaty-protected activities, to educate local citizens of their rights and the correlation between reserved rights and mining, but also in an effort to show the state and anti-treaty sport fishermen that tribes were able to self-regulate. As WWEP worked to promote environmental/Native collaboration, the Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission (GLIFWC) took on a governmental role as an intertribal self-regulatory organization and became one of the main interlocutors between Ojibwe tribes and state agencies in the context of resource management.

31As a result of the Voigt ruling, the Voigt Intertribal Task Force and the Great Lakes Indian Fisheries joined forces to implement tribal regulations, in an effort to show state agencies and treaty opponents that spearfishing, among other treaty-protected activities, would not constitute a threat to the environment of ceded territories across Wisconsin, Minnesota and Michigan, where Ojibwe tribes had reserved rights. GLIFWC’s work, combining scientific, legal and economic expertise, became crucial during the spearfishing protests, as the publication of their statistical reports demonstrated the low impact of spearfishing on the walleye population in Northern Wisconsin’s ceded territory, which participated in dismantling PARR’s and STA’s claims (Grossman, 2017 218). Today, GLIFWC works with Departments of Natural Resources in Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota, reviewing environmental impact statements and permit applications for mining projects located on Ojibwe ceded territory. The main objective of the organization is to ensure the respect of Ojibwe sovereignty, which in the context of Wisconsin heavily depends on the respect of treaty provisions and fair resource management. The organization gathers tribal and non-tribal experts, and during an interview conducted with GLIFWC experts Ann McCammon-Soltis and Dawn White, they explained the importance of creating a dialogue between tribes and agencies like the Department of Natural Resources and Army Corps of Engineers, who often do not see the value of the resources through the same lens (McCammon-Soltis and White). While GLIFWC has bridged the gap between the state, the federal government and Ojibwe tribes when it comes to intergovernmental relations, other collaborative organizations have formed to tackle the issues of race-based violence and mining in rural parts of Wisconsin.

32In the town of Nashville, where Exxon and its new partner Rio Algom organized “secret” meetings with the town’s board in an effort to bypass zoning authority requirements, the discovery of the meetings by local residents caused an uproar that led to the political alliance of anti-mining locals and Mole Lake representatives. The political alliance campaigned against Exxon and Rio Algom, and in 1997, anti-mining activist Chuck Sleeter was elected town chairman. Moreover, for the first time in the recent history of the state, an Ojibwe tribal member, Robert Van Zile, was elected alongside him (Gedicks, 2002 165). The companies’ efforts to circumvent the zoning requirements in an attempt to bypass local approval for the mine had sparked a lot of suspicion from the residents of this rural area, who saw the collaboration between their representatives and the mining company, despite their opposition to the project, as a threat and a treason, stating in a class action lawsuit against the Crandon Mining Company and the town board: “These local agreements were hammered out in secret, behind closed doors. […] We can’t let our communities be sacrificed by corporate greed or let ‘feel-good’ television commercials, paid for by Exxon, cause us to forget what is right” (Sleeter qtd. in Gedicks, 2002 165). The year following their election, the newly elected town board rescinded the agreement their predecessors had with Exxon and Rio Algom, preventing the state from granting them a mining permit.

33In addition to gaining elected positions in local offices, the greater political objective of WWEP’s campaigns was the Sulfide Mining Moratorium Bill that heavily relied on Ojibwe reserved rights. The location of the Crandon mine on Ojibwe ceded territory meant that the mine’s proposed waste disposal system would directly impact the water quality of the Wolf River, where the Mole Lake tribe harvested wild rice (Gedicks, 1993 134). As a treaty-protected activity, and since the 1983 Voigt ruling, federal and state governments were required to ensure the protection of the water to guarantee the survival of the traditional practice. The Moratorium bill, known as the “Prove It First” bill, forced mining companies to prove, when applying for a mining permit, that a similar project had been operated for ten years, and closed for ten years without any contamination and pollution from acid mine drainage (Sierra Club and WRPC 1). The Wisconsin Manufacturers and Commerce Association, Exxon and Kennecott heavily campaigned against the bill, but in 1997, thanks to the speaking tours, and the collaborative efforts of sportfishing associations and pro-treaty groups, the bill received legislative approval (Gedicks, 2002 171). Although the bill did not directly prohibit metallic mining in the region, it required mining companies to prove the “cleanliness” of their projects, as stated during their public relations campaigns, and added safeguards to the permit application process. Simultaneously, the Mole Lake petitioned the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to gain authority over water regulations. In 1995 they became the first Wisconsin tribe to be granted by the EPA the authority to regulate water quality on their reservation. During the public hearings on their application with the federal agency, WWEP representatives, lake associations, and local citizens showed their support for the tribe, demonstrating the dramatic changes in the relations between Wisconsinites and Native American tribes in the region (Gedicks 2002, 173). After the Mole Lake victory, the Potawatomi petitioned the EPA to gain air regulation authority under the Clean Air Act. Between 1995 and 1999, the state of Wisconsin opposed and appealed the decision, arguing that granting air regulation authority to the Potawatomi constituted a threat to the sovereignty of the state:

As legislators and concerned citizens, we stand united in opposing the opposition of obscure provisions in the federal Clean Air Act that deny the citizens of the state due process, violate state sovereignty and threaten the economic stability of many northern Wisconsin counties and communities in northern Michigan. (Wausau Daily Herald 8)

34Despite their appeal, the District court refused to review the case, granting the tribes new avenues to oppose metallic mining projects. After the approval of the new regulatory powers of the tribes, and the successful campaign for the Moratorium Bill, Exxon sold its 50% shares to Rio Algom and abandoned the Crandon mine (Gedicks, 2002 175). In 2001, the Australian and South African conglomerate BHP Billiton bought Rio Algom, and became the new interlocutor in the debate over the Crandon mine. With the Moratorium Bill, metallic mining had become a statewide issue, and mining companies became increasingly aware of the anti-mining climate in Wisconsin, which rendered gaining a social licence to operate almost impossible, therefore driving away potential investors. On October 28, 2003, the Forest County Potawatomi and the Sokaogon/Mole Lake tribes paid BHP Billiton 16.5 million dollars for the mine site, after the price significantly dropped due to the lack of investment interest in the project. In order to ensure the mine would never be brought back, the tribes divided the land between them, and put an end to a thirty-year-long conflict that threatened their resources, their traditional and spiritual beliefs, and treaty-protected activities. Anti-mining groups, WWEP members, sport fishermen and tribe members celebrated the victory, and the mine site later became a resort hotel with a series of hiking and ATV trails (Grossman, 2017 256).

Conclusion

35When Ojibwe tribes reserved fishing, hunting and gathering rights during treaty negotiations with the United States, the objective was to ensure the survival of the tribes that relied on the practices for food and ceremonial practices. Today, Ojibwe tribes still rely on harvesting wild rice and spearfishing for their survival, but the reserved rights have taken on a new role in the Great Lakes area, as they have become a successful tool to oppose threatening metallic mining projects. In 1998, Sandy Lyon, part of the anti-mining movement against the Ladysmith mine told Zoltán Grossman: “when the tribe came on board, it was like the cavalry had arrived,” referring to the Lac Courte Oreilles tribe who had not been part of the opposition until then (Grossman, 2017 232). This statement illustrates the importance of reserved rights, which offer anti-mining groups a legal footing when facing industrial conglomerates, but also sheds light on the different perceptions and roles of reserved rights for the different communities. Interestingly, when discussing the topic of environmental justice with GLIFWC experts, they explained that the term had only been used twice in their reports in an effort not to shift the focus and the goal of their agency, as their objective is the respect of Ojibwe sovereignty above all matters (McCammon-Soltis and White). Although reserved rights have successfully become an environmental justice tool that benefits tribes and rural white communities across the state, treaty provisions, and the struggle for their recognition and reaffirmation by courts and state agencies, are, first and foremost, a sovereign issue.

36The controversies that divided the communities of Northern Wisconsin are particularly interesting as they demonstrate the evolution of environmental and Indigenous alliances in the United States and worldwide, as Al Gedicks explains in Resource Rebels (5). Settler colonial societies throughout the American continent have used resource management as a neo-colonial and imperialist tool as he demonstrated in his analysis of the United States’ and Kennecott’ involvement in overthrowing Chilean President Salvador Allende after he nationalized copper mines in the country (Gedicks, 1993 1). In North America, deprived of nationalizing powers, Indigenous communities have had to rely on nineteenth-century treaties to protect their sovereignty and their access to resources, often in a context of racial discrimination and violence. In the United States, until the arrest of Fred and Mike Tribble that led to the reaffirmation of Ojibwe reserved rights, environmental and Indigenous alliances were uncommon, and inexistent in rural areas where communities were often at odds with each other (Gedicks, 1993 68). And yet, what had opposed sport fishermen and rural residents of Wisconsin and Ojibwe tribes all throughout the 1980s and early 1990s became, in the following years, what unified the region. The flag of Wisconsin shows a miner and a sailor carrying the shield, demonstrating the importance of the two activities intrinsically tied to the identity of the state. Fishing had been the reason and the supposed motivation for the anti-treaty movement, and fishing was also the activity that had sparked the reaffirmation of the reserved rights in 1983. Interestingly, mining would become the reason for the communities rallying together with a shared objective of opposing multinational corporations. Witness for Nonviolence coordinator Debra McNutt told Zoltán Grossman she had seen “some of the protesters and tribal members dialoguing at the boat landings” and begin “to agree that mining was an overriding problem and started to create some ‘almost unexpected’ common ground ‘at the height of potential violence’” (Grossman, 2017 228).

37The progressive shift that occurred among sport fishermen, and rural communities of Northern Wisconsin is not unique to the region, but it illustrates the inception of environmental and Indigenous alliances across the United States, particularly since the late 1960s. The parallel emergence of Indigenous rights movements, mainly the American Indian Movement, and the environmental movements by the end of the 1960s, early 1970s, allowed the convergence of the two struggles. In rural areas of the country, these alliances increased in the 1980s, often as a result of the mineral rush. These alliances follow similar patterns, from conflict to cooperation that Zoltán Grossman examines in Unlikely Alliances (2017). In South Dakota, the groups adopted the name “Cowboy and Indian Alliance” highlighting rurality as a defining feature of the collaboration. In the Pacific Northwest, the alliances came after years of conflicts after the 1974 Boldt decision that asserted tribal fishing rights. Each struggle has included in its process educational initiatives to better inform the public on treaty rights and Indigenous sovereignty. And each struggle demonstrated that better relations were only possible through education, but Grossman also explains that “cultural education” was only made possible through successful alliances: “Cultural education is a possible by-product of the alliances, and a lasting cultural impression can alter relationships” (Grossman, 2017 277).

38In Wisconsin, the educational programs initiated by tribal activists allowed non-Indigenous Wisconsinites to change how they perceived treaty rights, and off-reservations practices, from an unfair grant of “special rights,” to a legal tool that guarantees sport fishermen and spearfishermen alike the protection of the fish population in the Great Lakes region. In an article published in 2017, Céline Planchou identifies this process and explains:

Cette dimension à la fois particulariste et universaliste des revendications autochtones favorise un processus d’identification au-delà de la division amérindien / non-amérindien et participe à un processus de plus grande légitimation des revendications collectives autochtones au sein d’une partie de la population américaine. (Planchou 38)

The universality that Planchou identifies as a motivating factor for collaboration, in the case of Northern Wisconsin, became apparent to sport fishermen when they became aware of the usefulness of treaties to protect their resources. Through educational programs, Ojibwe activists were able to reframe treaties as legal tools that serve the general interest.

39The Tribble case and the subsequent Voigt ruling brought the issue of treaty rights to the forefront of Wisconsin’s political, cultural and racial discussions, and initially divided the communities. Thanks to organizations such as WWEP and GLIFWC, that focused on education and statistical analysis, reconciliation became possible between two groups that, despite the violence and conflicts, were able to draw common objectives because of their close relationship to their environment. The Ladysmith and Crandon projects unified rural Wisconsin precisely because rural areas have a special attachment to natural resources with fishing having a significant importance economically and culturally for both communities. In Endangered Spaces, Enduring Places, Janet Fitchen explains the consequences of industrialization on rural parts of the United States, and demonstrates how these changes impact perception of identity and responses (7). In Northern Wisconsin, the growing demands for mining permits resulted in rural communities, like Nashville, to feel marginalized, and left out of the conversation between decision-making agencies and mining corporations (Grossman, 2017 250). The two groups were now able to relate to one another, creating an unprecedented alliance, giving a voice to supposedly powerless groups by relying on constitutionally protected treaty rights, and creating environmental/Indigenous collaboration at a time when it was not the norm.

41When looking at more recent mining projects in Wisconsin and the response of the local communities, the impact of the treaty rights controversy is undeniable, and the shift in how reserved rights, and tribal sovereignty is perceived is illustrated by the immediate collaborative efforts that organize in response to new projects. In 2011, for instance, Florida-based Gogebic Taconite (GTac) proposed a taconite mine in the Penokee Hills of Ashland and Iron, and 1,200 feet from Lake Superior (Ericksen 1). Following the steps of the Crandon conflict, the Bad River tribe applied for water regulatory powers with the EPA and rallied with neighbouring communities to oppose the project (Gedicks, 2023 25). The cooperation that emerged closely resembles the Crandon mine opposition, with educational, political, and legal actions being taken with the support of the local community through pro-treaty groups. The Lac Courte Oreilles organized the Ojibwe Harvest Camp on ceded territory as a symbol of resistance against the GTac mine, and to signal their presence, and remind the company of their federally recognized treaty rights, laying the foundation for a possible legal case (Seely 1). In 2015, GTac retracted its permit application, citing “unexpected extensive wetlands,” despite the Bad River experts having warned the companies of the wetlands since the beginning of the project (Gedicks 2023, 30). In a press conference given by Ashland Mayor Bill Whalen, he stated: “This is not a Native Sovereign issue vs. the State of Wisconsin, this is a water and legislative issue that affects us all” (With). Forty years after Exxon first applied for a permit to mine in Wisconsin, and thirty years after the first violent protests against Ojibwe treaty rights, the vocal support of the border town of Ashland, where anti-Indian sentiments are usually the highest, rallying his community to the tribe’s opposition to the mine, demonstrates the dramatic changes that occurred in the region, from a legal, political, and social perspective. The unfortunate events that took place in the 1970s and 1980s allowed many Wisconsinites to educate themselves on the issues of tribal sovereignty and treaty rights, resulting in collaborative movements, grassroots alliances, and cultural relations to form between unexpected groups, paving the way for environmental/Indigenous alliances.