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MIKE MULCAHY: 11:06 now Good morning, and welcome to Midday. I'm Mike Mulcahy, sitting in for Gary Eichten. All this week, Minnesota Public Radio's Mainstreet reporters have been looking at the issue of Indian Civil Rights. We're going to listen to some of those reports during this hour of Midday, and then talk to Joe Day, the executive director of the Minnesota Indian Affairs Council. Many Indian people in Minnesota and the Dakotas say they've come to expect injustice both on and off the reservation.

We'll begin with the voices of people who say their rights and complaints are ignored. Listeners should be warned. This is an issue which provokes some strong language. Mainstreet Radio's Dan Gunderson reports.

DAN GUNDERSON: The stories begin as a trickle, but spend some time in Indian country and they become a torrent-- from tribal leaders to schoolchildren, attorneys to convicted criminals, stories about being treated differently.

[SMACK OF BILLIARD BALLS]

John Rock, Jr. likes to spend evenings shooting pool with friends in his garage. Between shots, he peers out the window, just checking, he says, for signs of the man he claims harasses him nearly every day. It started in a dispute over how snow was cleared from an alley. Rock says when he saw his neighbor making obscene gestures, he walked across the yard to confront him.

JOHN ROCK JR.: And he goes, get off my property, you [BLEEP] prairie nigger. And he kept hollering and hollering some more, started teasing me like, I'm going to go to jail. You're going to [BLEEP] go to jail, you half-breed.

DAN GUNDERSON: Rock says he challenged the man to a fight, but only words were exchanged. Police were called and Rock was charged with trespassing. He says the harassment continues, but he's not getting the help he wants from police. He says he's complained directly to the chief of police.

JOHN ROCK JR.: He told me to be a bigger man and look the other way and that he was going to do something, look into it.

DAN GUNDERSON: Police say the case is ongoing. They deny Rock is treated differently than any other citizen. The neighbor did not respond to requests for an interview. John Rock has filed a complaint with the Minnesota Human Rights department. While John Rock says police ignored his complaints, many Indians say they get too much attention from police. These people have all filed complaints with the Human Rights department, alleging police brutality.

SPEAKER 1: He threw me on a car, and he kept on choking me.

SPEAKER 2: He put my hands behind my back, and he pulled my hair and said, are you going to listen to me?

SPEAKER 3: He'd get out, and he'll tell us, put our hands up on the cop car. Otherwise, he'll tell us to get in the cop car. Then he'll search us. Then he'll let us go.

SPEAKER 4: He slammed my face in the hood, and I start bleeding right away. And I turned my head, and he hit my head again.

DAN GUNDERSON: In many cases, such allegations by American-Indians are dismissed as complaints of troublemakers. Chances are slim their complaints will be investigated. Records show the Minnesota Human Rights department investigates fewer than 5% of complaints filed by American-Indians. Officials say the agency is hamstrung by a lack of resources and often lacks jurisdiction.

County arrest statistics show, in some Northern Minnesota counties, American-Indians are a minority of the population, but make up a majority of those arrested and jailed. Law enforcement officials say that simply reflects the fact, the American-Indians commit more of the crime. Allegations against law enforcement for racial profiling or abuse are difficult to investigate. But White Earth Tribal Judge Anita Fineday says the complaints are so common, she started collecting sworn affidavits.

ANITA FINEDAY: It's a class action lawsuit waiting to happen. I mean, there are clearly violations of federal law. Clearly, people are receiving law enforcement services based on the perceptions as to whether they are Indian or non-Indian.

WARREN RETHWISCH: Totally wrong. Totally false.

DAN GUNDERSON: Warren Rethwisch is Sheriff of Becker County, which encompasses part of the White Earth Reservation.

WARREN RETHWISCH: It's usually the 1% of the population that seems to have the problem with law enforcement. And probably some of those reasons why is they're involved in some illegal activities. And when they get caught, they're the first ones to scream that they're being picked on.

CAROLYN ENGEBRETSON: I just say, maybe we're going to have to get sued a few times.

DAN GUNDERSON: Becker County Commissioner Carolyn Engebretson says she believes American-Indians in her county are treated differently by law enforcement.

CAROLYN ENGEBRETSON: It's going to have to cost us some money. And maybe if that's what's going to take, and then I encourage people to do it.

DAN GUNDERSON: Engebretson says she is troubled by the vast chasm that still seems to exist between white and Indian people in Northern Minnesota. She vividly recalls a conversation while campaigning last fall near the reservation.

CAROLYN ENGEBRETSON: One had actually suggested that we put barbed wire fences up and keep them inside. And I said, that's concentration camps. Is that what you want? Well, that's good enough. Blah, blah, blah. It was horrifying. I was just sick to my stomach.

DAN GUNDERSON: While such jarring stories are not uncommon, many American-Indians say the subtle daily incidents of racism which violate no laws take a greater toll.

ROBERT SHIMEK: They act like you're invisible. They look down or they look to the side.

DAN GUNDERSON: Robert Shimek is an environmental. activist who lives near Bemidji. He says every time he walks down the street, he's reminded he's an outcast. He recalls a day this winter when a white teenage girl crawled over a large snow bank rather than pass him in an alley. Shimek says he's come to accept such responses as a fact of life.

ROBERT SHIMEK: Would it have done me any good to stop and ask her, you didn't have to do that. You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm OK. Would it have done any good? I don't know.

DAN GUNDERSON: Shimek says challenging such incidents can be risky. He says he was harassed and threatened after speaking out about racism in a local school. There are everyday incidents reported in many schools. A young Indian student told he must cut his hair to be on a sports team. Long hair has a powerful spiritual significance for American-Indians. Many Indian students say they are subjected to racial epithets in classrooms and hallways.

One of the most volatile cases involves the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks. Indian students want the school to stop using the Fighting Sioux nickname for sports teams. As a result of that debate, Indian students say they are harassed and threatened on a daily basis. The US Education Department's Civil Rights division is currently investigating those complaints.

SPEAKER 5: [NON-ENGLISH SPEECH]

DAN GUNDERSON: As people mill about the UND student union, an elder leads a group of nicknamed protesters in prayer. A white student walking by curses the group under his breath. When questioned, he hurries into the crowd. UND student Waste'Win Young says she hears those comments every day. Her car has been vandalized, and she says she'll no longer walk across campus alone, but she takes a pragmatic view of the situation.

WASTE'WIN YOUNG: Native American people are the largest minority group in North Dakota, and this is just like the Mississippi of the North. And so right now, we just have to put up with these racist remarks because they're ignorant. We have to understand that they're ignorant, and they don't know any better.

DAN GUNDERSON: Many American-Indians don't share that attitude. Generations of bad land deals, boarding schools, and racist comments lead many to alcohol, drugs, and other self-destructive behavior. Growing up on the reservation, White Earth Tribal chairman Doyle Turner saw the bitterness passed from generation to generation. He says he understands why. He believes his wife was recently a target of racial profiling in a traffic stop. But he says he's determined to avoid becoming bitter.

DOYLE TURNER: My parents, and their parents, and their parents died waiting for fairness to happen. I really don't know the mindset of a society that won't come back and fix things that have gone awry. It puzzles me. It makes me reach into places I don't want to go.

DAN GUNDERSON: Turner says the solution is not angrily demanding justice, but educating young people and building tribal economic power. He says change will not come quickly, but he's encouraged by a groundswell of young American-Indians determined to seek the justice that eluded previous generations.

Dan Gunderson, Minnesota Public Radio, Moorhead.

MIKE MULCAHY: Reports of civil rights violations on Minnesota's Indian reservations have persisted for years. Indians have filed scores of complaints with state and federal agencies saying they live under a system where political patronage and nepotism rule the day, and where tribal leaders can manipulate the legal system to benefit themselves and their supporters. The past few years have brought major reforms in tribal government, but there is still a lingering mistrust.

Later in this hour, we'll be talking with Joe Day of the Indian Affairs Council. First, Minnesota Public Radio's Tom Robertson has this story, part of our week-long Mainstreet series, Broken Trust Civil Rights in Indian Country.

TOM ROBERTSON: The United States Constitution stops at the borders of Indian country. The US Supreme Court ruled more than 100 years ago that the document does not apply to Indians living on reservations. Legal rulings since then have established it's up to tribal governments to protect basic civil rights that non-Indians take for granted.

If tribal governments abuse that responsibility, victims have few places to turn. The Red Lake Indian Reservation in Northern Minnesota has had a tribal court for more than a century. Chairman Bobby Whitefeather says the court does its best to protect the civil rights of band members. He admits that wasn't always the case.

BOBBY WHITEFEATHER: Previously, dissension was something that was not well tolerated by the administration at that point in time.

TOM ROBERTSON: Whitefeather is referring to the 32-year reign of former chairman Roger Jourdain, whose administration controlled a court that, according to a 1986 Star Tribune investigation, denied jury trials, jailed people for days without specifying charges, and denied prisoners the opportunity to post bail. In 1982, Jourdain and the tribal council effectively barred lawyers from tribal court unless they could speak the native language.

BOBBY WHITEFEATHER: I think the word "fluently" was also inserted in there. And even to this day, I don't know of any legally licensed attorney that possesses those qualifications. And so, in a way, that restricted access to loitering legal counsel

MIKE MULCAHY: Whitefeather says changes in the late 1980s led to a court system that is more responsive to the civil rights of band members. But former reservation resident Clara Niska says things are far from ideal. Niska is of Indian descent but is not from Red Lake. She moved there in the 1970s and later married Wub-E-Ke-Niew, a member of the band and one of the founders of the controversial American Indian Movement. Niska says she and her husband suffered years of persecution for their political beliefs. And when he died in 1997, she was abruptly and forcibly exiled.

CLARA NISKA: Kicked me out of my house a week after he died with the clothes on my back, pretty much.

TOM ROBERTSON: It happened in a Red Lake courtroom where Niska was attending a probate hearing to settle her husband's estate. She says tribal police walked in with an order of exclusion signed by the chairman. She was escorted to the reservation border and told never to come back. She left behind her car, her home, and all of her belongings. She says her civil rights were never considered.

CLARA NISKA: There's times that I've stood on the line and looked across and yearned for the land that I may never see again. It's a cold-hearted thing to say you can't even visit your husband's grave.

TOM ROBERTSON: Chairman Whitefeather says his action in the Niska case was legal under tribal law and was justified to protect what he calls the tranquility of the reservation.

BOBBY WHITEFEATHER: She was removed because she was creating dissension amongst other people here. She was creating a problem. As a sovereign nation, we have the authority and the ability to establish the parameters of the rights of our people.

TOM ROBERTSON: Congress gave Indians most of the protections of the Bill of Rights in the 1968 Indian Civil Rights Act. But 10 years later, the Supreme Court sharply limited the impact of that legislation, ruling that tribal sovereignty gives tribes authority over internal affairs. And tribes are increasingly using that sovereignty to broaden the scope of their courts.

ANITA FINEDAY: We're going to go on the record. This is White Earth Tribal court. My name is Anita Fineday. I'm the judge presiding here today.

TOM ROBERTSON: On the White Earth Indian Reservation in Northwestern Minnesota, Chief Judge Anita Fineday oversees a court that functions on a shoestring budget but owes its existence to the influx of casino profits. Just a few years ago, the court handled only hunting and fishing cases. Now, its jurisdiction is greatly expanding.

ANITA FINEDAY: And I always feel like sovereignty is a matter of use it or lose it, and we need to set out the parameters of our jurisdiction and guard it very jealously.

TOM ROBERTSON: The court's caseload has doubled in the past year. It now handles misdemeanor traffic violations, child protection, and a variety of civil cases. Soon, it will take on juvenile justice and domestic violence codes. Fineday says one of the more popular new services with Indians and non-Indian alike is a cheap divorce.

ANITA FINEDAY: I make the pitch. This is the only place in Minnesota you can get a divorce for $25 in one week. So [LAUGHS] we're seeing an influx of people, if they both agree to submit themselves to the jurisdiction of the White Earth Tribal court, we can divorce anyone.

TOM ROBERTSON: But White Earth's court system is built against a dismal backdrop of repression and corruption. The 20-year regime of former chairman Darrell "Chip" Wadena, which ended in 1996, included a host of abuses, political favoritism, embezzlement, fraud, and stolen elections. Judge Fineday admits there were civil rights abuses on a massive scale.

ANITA FINEDAY: The judge did what the tribal council wanted done. And if the tribal judge did something that the tribal council didn't like, they lost their job. If the tribal council didn't like you, you didn't get a job, you didn't get a house. The system was corrupt to its core.

TOM ROBERTSON: Trusting in a government with that kind of past is hard to do, says band member Ray Bellecourt. He believes there are no civil rights on his reservation and nowhere to turn for help.

RAY BELLECOURT: Well, when your rights are violated up there, you got one place to go-- to the people that are violating it. And they're not going to act on it. It's like asking the gorilla to get off your back. I mean, it's not going to happen.

TOM ROBERTSON: Some say the problem lies with the Constitution of the Minnesota Chippewa tribe, an organization that includes White Earth and five other Ojibwe bands. Critics, including White Earth activist Marvin Manypenny, say the Constitution is flawed because it does not include a separation of powers. Manypenny says it gives tribal councils unbridled power.

MARVIN MANYPEENY: You might as well have kingdoms and a king making all the decisions for you. We demand participatory democracy.

TOM ROBERTSON: So far, reformists have had no luck in changing the constitution, but tribal leaders are working to insulate the courts from interference. At White Earth, Tribal Judge Anita Fineday says she can no longer be fired by the tribal council. Her judgeship, for the first time in history, will be up for election in 2002. Fineday says many Indians find the criminal justice system intimidating and unfair. She says White Earth's court provides more opportunity to be heard and is more sensitive to Indian culture.

ANITA FINEDAY: I think there's a great deal of bias in the state court system. I think that for anyone who is poor and who is a minority, it is difficult to receive justice in the state or the federal system. I think we provide better civil rights protections.

TOM ROBERTSON: Tribal officials agree the rapid growth of their judicial systems will play a key role in further promoting self-governance and political stability. Many also see the institutions as vital to protecting the civil rights of a people that historically have had none. I'm Tom Robertson, Minnesota Public Radio, Bemidji.

MIKE MULCAHY: Of the 12 races listed on this year's census form, only one has an official membership card. This genetic record, known as "the white card," is what makes an Indian an Indian-- at least in the eyes of many US government and tribal programs. Continuing our series Broken Trust, Civil Rights In Indian Country, Mainstreet Radio's Jeff Horwich reports that as a new generation of Indians comes of age, this long-standing genetic cutoff point for Indian people may be closely linked to the future of Indian nations and cultures.

JEFF HORWICH: Corey Lawrence, a junior at St. Cloud State University, is a half-blood Spear Lake Sioux. He and his father are enrolled members of the North Dakota tribe, but his mother is Ojibwe. And right now, that means Corey Lawrence's grandchildren will probably no longer make the cut at Spear Lake.

COREY LAWRENCE: It's kind of like an iffy thing. I mean, I'm enrolled, and then after my kids have kids, that's it, they can't be enrolled no more, and the funding stops. And that's what I think blood quantum was set up to do. And so, in a way, it could be seen as genocide.

JEFF HORWICH: The vast majority of Indian tribes require one quarter blood specifically from their reservation for enrollment. One full-blooded grandparent, for example, would give someone a blood quantum of one quarter. Today, blood quantum data is dispersed among the records of the 558 federally recognized tribes, but conventional wisdom holds that most enrolled Indians, especially in the younger generation, have a blood quantum of less than one half. This is of some concern to groups like the Minnesota Chippewa.

TOM ANDREWS: It's against our spiritual belief to marry somebody from your own clan.

JEFF HORWICH: Tom Andrews teaches Ojibwe history at St. Cloud State University. He notes the irony that Minnesota's Ojibwe clans can maintain their bloodline only by betraying their culture.

TOM ANDREWS: Let's say I'm a quarter blood from Fond Du Lac, and I marry a quarter blood from Mille Lacs, our children are no longer considered Indian by the federal government because they're not 25% from one nation.

JEFF HORWICH: And when you're not Indian enough, many tangible benefits stop. Generations within families can be divided by tribal enrollment, and Indian communities are torn between losing members through intermarriage and the real or perceived role of blood quantum in keeping the remaining cultures pure and strong. For this last reason, Andrews wouldn't do away with blood quantum, but he foresees more talk of reform as today's quarter blood young people reach childbearing age.

TOM ANDREWS: Overall, I think that blood quantum is going to affect the basis of who we are, and it's going to affect it in a major way in the next 15 to 20 years.

JEFF HORWICH: Blood quantum in the US has been around longer than the country itself. In perhaps the earliest example, a 1705 Virginia colony law defines mulatto to be anyone who was at least one half Indian or one eighth Black. In Minnesota, the first appearance of the blood quantum may be the Treaty of 1837 in which one clause makes provisions for the half-breed relations of the Ojibwe.

The government came to adopt one quarter blood quantum to distribute the resources tribes secured in treaties across the country. On one level, it was a bureaucratic necessity. Congress had to draw the line somewhere. The more cynical view assumes that the government had an outcome in mind. Again, Tom Andrews.

TOM ANDREWS: I don't believe that anybody then had any dream that we would have lasted this long. [LAUGHS]

JEFF HORWICH: And today, the blood quantum establishes the basis in most cases for tribal enrollment. With recent expansion of tribal sovereignty and innovation by reservation governments, being enrolled arguably matters as much as it ever has. The Indian Child Welfare Act protects the cultural rights of enrolled children.

Many Minnesota tribes will supplement state financial aid to help meet the cost of a college education. Tribal health services offer free or very affordable care for enrolled members. Some reservations, like Mille Lacs, can essentially guarantee members a job. And in rare cases, such as the Mystic Lake Casino, owned and operated by the Mdewakanton Sioux, cash payments from tribal enterprises can make tribal members millionaires.

Tribe's right to discriminate based on blood comes from their status as sovereign nations. But blood quantum distinctions can divide families in a way that's unique. Kathy Lawrence, a nursing student at St. Cloud State, is more than one quarter Ojibwe but does not have enough Indian blood from either Red Lake or White Earth for tribal membership. Her half brother does, but she worries that there would be trouble if she joined him on family hunting trips.

KATHY LAWRENCE: Up in Red Lake, my brother hunts. They hunt and fish, and snare rabbits, and do it as a family thing and learning about the land and stuff. And I can't do that.

JEFF HORWICH: No tribe or government service is obligated to use blood quantum. The White Earth Indian Health Center, administered by the US Department of Health and Human services, avoids tough choices by giving free health care to anyone who can show any relation to a recognized tribe. John MacArthur is the director.

JOHN MACARTHUR: We want to take care of the whole family and extended family. And it could be really disruptive if certain members of her family were enrolled and certain members were not enrolled, and you were basing how you provided services to just-- you know, you could potentially provide services to maybe the parents, but not the children.

JEFF HORWICH: The White Earth clinic can afford this practice for now, but tribes and many sympathetic unenrolled Indians worry that liberalizing enrollment on a large scale could put a major financial strain on Indian programs faced with increasing demand. Some fear a cultural strain, as well, if the blood quantum-based definition of Indian were to change.

The new census figures will do little to allay such concerns. For the first time, the census allowed Americans to choose more than one race, and the number of people checking Indian doubled compared with 1990. It grew by 62% in Minnesota to more than 81,000. But tribal records show actual enrollments may be closer to half that number.

The interim director of the American Indian Center at St. Cloud State, a descendant of the Choctaw Nation, has light hair and blue eyes and lacks the blood quantum for enrollment. But Rex Vider understands the desire to protect the purity of tribal populations.

REX VIDER: Well, let's face it, Indian folks, and rightfully so, are very nervous about people coming into the community saying they're Indian and then just sort of taking over stuff and appropriating the culture. And personally, I like that. I'm sorry. I kind of like the idea that people in certain communities keep that circle to themselves and preserve their sovereignty and integrity as a people.

JEFF HORWICH: In coming years, Minnesota tribes may look more closely to the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, which extends membership to anyone who can trace an ancestor to a century-old membership list. The Cherokee adds some 1,000 members each month and are now arguably the largest tribe in the nation. The US government decided more than 100 years ago that blood quantum was what made an Indian. But to many of today's younger native people, at least, it makes sense to look more than skin deep at cultural values, religious practice, and whether they intend to contribute to the reservation community. Jennie Wharton, a 19-year-old freshman in St Cloud, is Choctaw and Comanche.

JENNIE WHARTON: I personally don't know exactly what my quantum is. I do know that it's four generations back, but at the same time, I could be 1/100, the smallest percent, and I'd still consider myself an Indian because it's inside me.

JEFF HORWICH: Perhaps, it should come as no surprise that Minnesota's tribal elders are already one step ahead. In a move designed to address the issue of dwindling bloodlines, the Minnesota Indian Council of Elders is asking state tribes to recognize one another's blood quantum as equally valid. As tribes ponder the proposal, another generation is coming of age. Jeff Horwich, Minnesota Public Radio, Collegeville.

MIKE MULCAHY: And you're listening to Midday on Minnesota Public Radio. You can hear and read much more about Indian Civil Rights at our website, minnesotapublicradio.org. And be sure to check out the forum section of the Broken Trust page on the website. That's where people are talking back to our stories.

We're joined now by Joe Day. He's the executive director of the Minnesota Indian Affairs Council. He's an enrolled member of the Leech Lake Band of Chippewa and was a former high-level official with the Minnesota Chippewa tribe. Joe Day also spent many years as a liaison between the 11 tribal governments and the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.

You can join our conversation about Indian Civil Rights by calling 651-227-6000. 651-227-6000. If you're listening outside the Twin cities, call toll free 1-800-242-2828 1-800-242-2828. And Joe Day, thanks for being with us today.

JOE DAY: You're welcome.

MIKE MULCAHY: In general, how do you think Indian people are treated in the state of Minnesota?

JOE DAY: I don't think we're treated like other citizens are treated in the state, being the white citizens. All my life I've felt that I was never afforded the opportunity as other students-- I should say, white students. Growing up and also in the workplace, I've noticed the way that we're treated a little differently.

MIKE MULCAHY: And in what ways? I mean--

JOE DAY: Well, in school, we weren't given the opportunity that other kids had on if we showed some areas where we may have some interest or excelled in the curricula perspective that. we weren't encouraged to pursue those things that we enjoyed. I enjoyed science, as a matter of fact, in my ninth grade year, I gave a term paper on the theory of relativity. What does E equals MC squared mean? And that didn't really get too much interest in the school system.

The next year, I gave a report on albinism, and our library didn't even have the reference materials to look at genetics and so forth. But I did go to the University Bemidji State and got some reference materials and finished a report. However, after doing those two term papers and looking at post graduation, I was encouraged to become a mechanic rather than pursue my interest in science.

MIKE MULCAHY: Hmm. And you feel that a lot of Indian people have similar experiences?

JOE DAY: Oh, absolutely It was wonderful to come back to go and give a human relations workshop at my old high school. And what I did was, I asked the teachers, why are you teaching? It's a personal question. You don't have to answer to me, but answer to yourself. And I explained about those two term papers. In my desire for science, having taken biology and chemistry in high school, I was encouraged to go and pursue a mechanic's certificate.

However, I went to work in California. We made lasers. We made lasers for eye surgery for just about every application. We made the first point-of-sale scanner for National Cash Register, and I met the inventor of the laser. He was on our board of directors. So when I came back and had the opportunity to share this with some of those teachers that taught me in school. Why didn't you encourage me to pursue a science background or science discipline?

I shared with them during the process my grades from 1st grade through 12th grade, and it showed that I was really given like these D-pluses and maybe a C now and then, until I became eligible for extracurricular activities and came up to me the standards to participate in extracurricular activities. And then I shared my college transcripts with them. I said, are these the same student? And they said, no.

But they were my college transcripts, which showed I had 14 quarters of the dean's list, and I worked all day and went to school at night. So when departing, I asked them, why are you teaching? I think that was a not-so-subtle question as to how they treated me and treat other Indians in that school system.

MIKE MULCAHY: Let's take a slight step back here and go back to some of the things Jeff Horwich was talking about in his story. In the latest census, there was a large increase in the number of Minnesotans who identified themselves as Indian or part Indian. And this might sound like a silly question, but what is an Indian? How do you answer that question?

JOE DAY: Well, I think some of the research you've done, it's in your heart, it's what you believe, tribal governments are the only ones that can determine who a tribal member is, and that's their sovereign right. And I believe that the Census Bureau in the drafting that survey made quite an error. How come they didn't have other ethnic categories? Are you German and Norwegian? Or German and Jew or whatever?

And just instead of singling out Indians, I think some of the census analysis did prove that it's kind of nice to have an Indian ancestry, but not enough to be enrolled. So when they mark that, consequently, we had a 62% increase and, I think, it was a perception of who was on tribal roles. And the tribal enrollment is a key factor, and the tribal governments do determine that.

MIKE MULCAHY: Do you think that whole system of blood quantum is due for a change just to keep people classified as Indians who have Indian heritage?

JOE DAY: Well, it's my personal opinion that-- I've done a little reading on this. I looked from the historical perspective on how the federal government interacted with the Indians. And it was public policy during the 1800s, and how do we gain access to Indian land? And there was a certain mechanism to get ownership of mixed-bloods land versus full-bloods.

So we had different public policies and from what I feel is that by acquiescing and saying that the Bureau of Indigenous Affairs said that you should have at least one fourth Indian. And In blood quantum, to be a tribal member, to me is an arbitrary number to get out of the Indian business. And to me, there are a lot of folks that that I know behave and think as our ancestors did in a community of the acceptance, participating with rituals, and so forth, and hunting and fishing and the lifestyles.

There are quite a few folks left that still have that in their heart versus, what is in your head. It's a way of life. It's not, per se, a special race, and this is what you do. It's a way of life, and that's the way our spirituality works, too.

MIKE MULCAHY: So it's something that should probably be looked at in terms of--

JOE DAY: Well, I think we're at the threshold now that we see movements by other tribes and taking a look at that. But I see all these efforts toward, let's say, African-Americans-- when are you an African-American, when are you not? You're an American-Indian, when are you not? The questions are being asked by white people. And it's actually none of their business. It's up to the communities, I think.

MIKE MULCAHY: OK. We're talking with Joe Day. He is the executive director of the Minnesota Indian Affairs Council. We welcome your calls and questions as well. In the Twin cities, the number to call 651-227-6000, 651-227-6000. Anywhere else you're listening, make it a toll-free call, 1-800-242-2828. And let's take a call from Dave in St. Paul. Dave, hello, and welcome to Midday.

DAVE (ON PHONE): Hi. Hello?

MIKE MULCAHY: Yeah, hi. Go ahead.

DAVE (ON PHONE): Hi. I wanted to talk-- and Joe, you know me. I'm Dave.

MIKE MULCAHY: Yep. Yep, yep. And when you were talking about your experiences in school, my experience is-- and I'm a little younger, I'm in the 30-something generation-- and I'd have to say that the teachers I'd had in the public schools and then the Catholic schools where I went to, they went out of their way to identify me as gifted and talented and encouraged me. And maybe I'm just an exception, but I don't give up on the public schools. I don't give up on the schools that are out there because frankly, from what I know and hear about what's happening in the tribal schools, unfortunately, they're not serving our young people very well right now, either.

JOE DAY: I'd like to respond to Dave. It wasn't chastising public schools, per se. I think there needs to be a greater awareness of who we are as American-Indians. I don't know where you had gone to school. I know there's quite a few students or friends that I know that have gone to parochial schools, and they've done really well-- finishing high school, going on to college, and obtaining a four-year degree, and moving on to advanced degrees.

And even though, I think my family in the community I grew up was treated rather well. However, there were just certain instances that I thought they could have done a little better. When I had this potential in science, I just wished the counselors would have pushed and said, well, maybe you should go to college. Here's some classes you should take, maybe advanced mathematics. And I did take chemistry. And the only reason I took chemistry was my high school football coach who taught both chemistry and biology, who believed in me. So I really appreciated his interest in me and helping me.

MIKE MULCAHY: OK. You talked about schools, some of our reports focused on law enforcement. And the Minnesota Human Rights department has had a number of complaints. The word is they investigate fewer than 5% of complaints from Indians-- what do you think should happen there?

JOE DAY: Yeah, I agree with some of the comments I heard on your previous program here. And they're absolutely right. I think we should take a little more active role in helping to ameliorate some of these disparities, whether it's from traffic stops, to the courts, to imprisonment. There is a great disparity. And I don't think we're really taking a look at why these conditions exist. What is the real problem? Is it a real problem for alcoholism, drug abuse, domestic abuse, or whatever? I think those are just symptoms of something that's really deeply rooted, and it's racism.

And we aren't given the proper respect as any other citizen. I think from the moment Columbus arrived in this hemisphere, when he wrote in his journals, I found these natives to be naked and heathens was the first time racial profiling started. And it's gotten worse since then.

MIKE MULCAHY: OK. Let's go back to the phone lines. Paul is calling from Virginia. Paul, hello.

PAUL (ON PHONE): Hello. Thanks for taking my call. I basically think that it's just time for the Indians to get over themselves. The people that got the shaft when this country was settled are dead now. The people that did the abuse are also dead now. Giving Indians sovereignty over little chunks of land scattered across the nation is like a house divided against itself. And it's absurd, if not impractical.

And this business about who's an Indian, and who isn't, one quarter, one third, one half, it's becoming a state of mind. It's in your heart. It's totally absurd. Now, I was born in this country, and so were my parents. This makes me a Native American. Where is my free medical care? Where's my free education? Where's my free land? I think it's time for everybody to just to assimilate and get on with life.

MIKE MULCAHY: Joe Day, your response to that?

JOE DAY: OK, first of all, sovereignty wasn't given to Indians. You'll have to know your history. You must have missed it in history class. The new country called United States dealt with tribes as a sovereign nation. And that's where the courts, even today, recognize that.

And tribes had their own memberships. They had their own way of dealing with civil matters and criminal matters, which is not in tuned with the way Europeans think. Europeans came over here to worship as they would like to since they didn't get it in England. They come over here and implement the same thing, whether it's taxes or looking at the way people worship.

So tribes were sovereign long before the arrival of Europeans. And as far as free education, free medication, et cetera, or medical, we prepaid for all this stuff by giving up our land. And if you want us to be like you, you should talk to your legislators to pay us what it's really worth or give us our land back. I really feel strongly about that. We didn't get this stuff for nothing. It's prepaid by the land from the Atlantic Coast to the Pacific Coast.

MIKE MULCAHY: Let me ask you a question since this issue of sovereignty is coming up, what about the experience in Minnesota with some of the tribal governments? You heard somebody from the White Earth Reservation saying that when your rights are violated on the reservation, your only recourse is to go to the same people who are violating your rights. There have been problems with sovereignty on the reservation, right?

JOE DAY: Well, I don't think there's problems with sovereignty. When the Human Rights Act was enacted and the history goes back to 1832 on the way the federal government works with tribes, recognizing tribal sovereignty, and when the 1968 Act came into fruition, that it was broad enough to give the tribes the authority to enforce human rights.

And it's strictly a tribal matter. Recognizing that if they did anything more specific, they'd erode tribal sovereignty. And it was a fine line. There's kind of a dichotomy there on the way Congress interacts with tribal governments. Historically, since the 1800s, Congress has recognized tribes as sovereign. And if they enact laws that erodes that in the protection, so they gave that authority to the tribal governments.

So the tribal governments, I think, really have the authority and responsibility to handle those matters. It's not my business, or is it the state of Minnesota's business on those reservations, it's the tribal governments and their evolution of protecting their tribal members.

MIKE MULCAHY: Well, let's take another call. Shirley is calling from Minneapolis. Shirley, hello. Welcome to Midday.

SHIRLEY (ON PHONE): Hi, and thank you for having me as a guest. With all due respect, Mr. Day, I am Indian, as well. Indian blood in me as well, and I'm in my 50s. I have experienced throughout my lifetime no racial profiling or lack of support due to the fact that I was in a particular race or of any ethnic background. And I'm going to address what you had mentioned about schools and the lack of support that was given to you, and the interest that you had in science.

I, too, had a great deal of interest in journalism. And in school, I think, like everybody else, we never feel like we're given 100% support. However, I had to look within myself and say, even though I came from a poor background and I was of a different ethnic background, that I was self-motivated, and I was the one that was going to make the difference for myself.

I don't think schools are to look at any one different ethnic culture and say that we should treat you differently. I think everyone in this country is to be treated equally. And unless there is some coolness that is focused in on you, I do think that it's up to yourself to make your own way in life.

My husband is Greek, and his parents, all his ancestors came over here from Greece with not a cent in their pocket. And they today are very successful because they have made their own way.

MIKE MULCAHY: Let's have Joe Day respond to that.

SHIRLEY (ON PHONE): Sure.

MIKE MULCAHY: Thanks, Shirley.

SHIRLEY (ON PHONE): Thank you.

JOE DAY: Well, I took responsibility for myself. I know I left Minnesota and got as far as away as I could. I ended up in California. And after some tours in Vietnam, I came back and went to school on a GI Bill and worked all day and went to night school and got a degree. So I think I'm pretty self-motivated.

And I think if you grew up in Minneapolis, or St. Paul, or in San Francisco, where I'd gone to school, I think there's a different tolerance of minorities. But certainly in a small community In Northern Minnesota, there's a difference in attitudes and a difference of, I think, awareness and education about cultural diversity. And that's where I think racism really plays a larger role, or the education, or the lack of understanding about Indians really occurs.

MIKE MULCAHY: Let's take another call. This one from Dell in Minneapolis. Dell, hello.

DELL (ON PHONE): Yeah, hello. Yeah, hi, Mr. Day.

JOE DAY: Bonjour.

DELL (ON PHONE): I'd like to respond to probably the last two callers I've been listening to. I'm Native American myself. I'm a Lakota. A lot of the things that they talk about in terms of children within the school systems, our children that are in there now today, a lot of them are lacking in terms of the knowledge, the true knowledge in terms of our history with the United States, the contributions.

I mean, there's a little bit of it done, but not within the history books. And I think if that was done, the truth being told in terms of how we are, as a people, that we were never defeated as a red nation. It wasn't us who came to the US government with the treaty. We didn't write the treaty up. They came to us and asked us to sign the treaty.

And also the truth about Columbus, and what he came, and what he did to the Indian people. Prior to him coming, we were over 100 million strong, and now, what are we? Four million, somewhere around in there? So I think if they would get that because I find that with my children, that there is no census in terms of self-esteem, pride within the school system, and in their history book, all they talk about is the pilgrims this, and this, and this, and there's only like a paragraph describing what Native Americans are.

And there is no description of diversity among our people. We are many, many people. Different tribes and nations of people within the nation. And it's their stereotypical society in a sense whereas we are seen as we lack the motivation, we don't do this, we don't do that. We can do these things, but we're not going to give up our spirit, our nation. our identity as Indian people.

MIKE MULCAHY: OK. Thanks for the call, Dell. Joe, anything you want to say about that?

JOE DAY: Yeah, I'm glad you brought that up because I had a discussion with some high-level officials in Minnesota at one time about that, asking him to go look in the Minnesota history book and what would he find. Well, there are two tribes here, Sioux and Dakota, and were vehement enemies, which is really not true.

I mean, we had ceremonies together. There were intermarriages. And even the word "Minnesota," the actual meaning is a place of cloudy water or murky water by the Dakota terms and where the Minnesota River and the Mississippi come together. But we kind of romanticize about Minnesota being a land of sky blue water, and there's a whole different connotation.

And you take a look at just about every county, or city, or Minneapolis itself is from native derivation. And we aren't really given the credit for anything to do with the history of this country or state.

MIKE MULCAHY: We only have about a minute left to go here. And I do want to remind everybody that this discussion is continuing on our website, minnesotapublicradio.org. Just click the link for Broken Trust, and there's an ongoing forum there. But Joe, just very briefly, do you think things are getting better or worse in terms of this whole situation?

JOE DAY: Well, the thing I like about our community is we're really progressing in the area of making it through school, getting advanced degrees, but yet, we have a long way to go and giving credit to the history of this country and the status that we have in the-- whether it's the legislature, the school systems, I think we're invisible to everybody.

MIKE MULCAHY: Well, Joe Day, thanks very much. We're going to have to end it there.

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It's spring in Minnesota, and it's time to air out the studios. If you've ever wanted to see the inside of Minnesota Public Radio St. Paul headquarters, this is it. Saturday, May 5, is our open house, your chance to see our studios, meet the on-air hosts, and satisfy your curiosity about MPR. 250 lucky guests will get the chance to tour the Fitzgerald Theater and watch rehearsal for that evening's performance of A Prairie Home Companion. Minnesota Public Radio opens its house to the public Saturday, May 5. For details, go to minnesotapublicradio.org.