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As the sun set, more than a dozen young men carried a wooden bridge toward a narrow section of the Mississippi River. The bridge allowed the group to cross more easily from their camp to where the massive oil pipeline was built on the other side.
They were cited for trespassing – but they symbolically claimed the swampy landscape.
On the same day, Dawn Goodwin’s voice was soft but powerful as she spoke to the camera: “I invite you, Joe Biden, to uphold our treaties, because they are the supreme law of the earth.”
Goodwin, an Ojibwe woman and environmental activist, was recording a live broadcast from a scenic camping site amidst the natural beauty of northern Minnesota—where she had gathered with dozens of others to protest the construction of the Line 3 pipeline.
Across the state, along the route of the planned construction of the pipeline, activists from all over the country traveled to do the same: many locked themselves in construction equipment, and hundreds were arrested. Goodwin’s preferred method of protest is arguably less physical – she’s been in the middle of a four-day prayer – but she hoped it wouldn’t be any less effective for drawing attention to the potential damage posed by the pipeline.
“We ended up fiddling with the process and trusted the process would work, because in the end it failed us,” she said. “What can I trust instead? The power of the people, the power of the Creator.”
The proposed Line 3 pipeline — which, if expanded, would transport crude oil from Alberta in Canada through Minnesota to Wisconsin — quickly became the biggest target of environmentalists in the United States. In addition to attracting protesters from across the country, it also draws attention to Biden’s hitherto unfulfilled promises on the climate crisis, with advocates arguing that he could intervene to stop the expansion of fossil fuel infrastructure but he hasn’t. The United States is already producing more oil than it can use, and is increasing its exports of oil and natural gas, despite pledging to reduce its own climate pollution.
The escalation of protests in Minnesota comes on the heels of a major environmental victory, as developers scrap the Keystone XL pipeline — something that indigenous activists have fought against for nearly a decade. Now, advocates position the Third Line as the newest frontier of environmental justice, in part because of the dangers it poses to the waterways on which Native Americans depend.
“For all the reasons why Keystone XL was closed and more, Line 3 should be shut down as well,” said Colin Reese, senior campaigner at Oil Change International. “There is a growing understanding that we cannot continue to expand into fossil fuels.”
If the pipeline moves forward, Reese said, the Biden administration will undermine its authority in international climate negotiations. Other countries – including Denmark, Ireland and Spain – are moving to ban future licenses for oil and gas exploration.
The 52-year-old pipeline, operated by Canadian energy company Enbridge, has been replaced because it is deteriorating. Two other Enbridge pipelines suffered major spills. But the replacement line runs on an entirely new route, passing through rivers, lakes, and wetlands. “Because in the event of a leak, we don’t know what’s going to happen. We don’t fully understand what’s underground. We want to think we’re doing it but we don’t,” Goodwin said.
Goodwin is the “Protector of Water” – the name given to the Native Americans and Allies who joined in the resistance to fossil fuels, especially oil pipelines.
Water protectors also fought the Dakota Access pipeline, drawing activists from around the world to Standing Rock in 2016 and 2017.
Activists install a bridge over a narrow section of the Mississippi River. Photo: Sheila Reagan/The Guardian
It is a form of activity that is often physically taxing, and not without legal risks: a number of countries are initiating greater penalties for protesters who trespass on their property to oppose oil and gas infrastructure. But activists say the water protection strategy has proven effective with the cancellation of the Keystone XL pipeline.
But there are setbacks for the movement: A federal judge in Louisiana recently blocked the Biden administration’s blocking of some oil and gas leases. And in an obstacle to Line 3 opponents, a Minnesota court recently sided with Enbridge in challenges to her permit.
Tara Hoska, a tribal attorney and founder of the Jinyu congregation, which has been protesting the pipeline for years, called the ruling “disappointing” but said the fight was continuing.
“We can’t stop,” she said. “And we won’t.”
The last escalation
Since December, protesters have been camping, praying and setting up places. But they also went to the extreme: Johnny Barber closed his neck to the Enbridge Gate in March in a statement against the pipeline.
It was inspired by Standing Rock, a movement led by Indigenous peoples resisting the Dakota Access pipeline, stationed at water protection camps set up near where the pipeline was built. Founded on the principles of indigenous sovereignty and cultural preservation as well as environmental concerns, it attracted allies from all over the world.
“Standing Rock was a watershed moment in the fight to stop these pipelines,” Barber said. “I had just promised myself at that point that if she was there, and if the next fight did happen, I would make sure I was able to participate.”
“There are several different ways for people to fight this pipeline,” said Taisha Martino, a water garrison in Ojibwe, part of a camp called Mjizi, on the ground near the pipeline route in Klok. When she was first, Martineau was angry and hurt, in part because the reservation she belonged to made an agreement with Enbridge to build the line through the reservation.
Protest banners at Fire Light Camp, where Dawn Goodwin leads a four-day prayer service. Photo: Sheila Reagan/The Guardian
“I was resisting just to exist,” she said, referring to the tensions she had with members of her tribe. Since then, she’s found a sense of community with other Water Keepers, and has seen her work transform. “I went from yelling at the riot police queue to praying at these heights with the sheriff’s departments,” she said.
Martinez said the power of prayer brought her to the headwaters. “I am not closed off to machines today,” she said, “because I realize that sticking to our pacts doesn’t always have to come from a place of anger.”
“It was the women here, who told me it was time to stand here with them. And so I am standing here in solidarity and learning my place as the little Two Spirit character, and learning where I will fit in when we achieve our goal of stopping Line 3.”
In the first week of June, more Line 3 protesters from across the country swept through northern Minnesota. By June 7, about 200 people had been arrested. About 2,000 environmentalists arrived at the White Earth Preserve the day before for three days of training, according to the People’s Caucus Treaty.
Kia Chatterjee, president of the US Climate Action Network, said the nonprofit policy arm brought three busloads of people from Seattle, Spokane and North Carolina to participate.
She added that before noon, a helicopter belonging to the customs and border patrols appeared. “[It] She just started harassing us hard, flying very low, and raising the dust.” Chatterjee said that nine people from her group were arrested.
According to US Customs and Border Protection at Grand Forks, the agency was responding to a local law enforcement request for assistance in connection with a report of trespassing on private property. “CBP headquarters are investigating the facts to determine exactly what happened and whether the actions taken were justified,” the agency said in a statement.
“All appropriate actions will be taken based on the facts learned, including in relation to the incident itself as well as applicable agency policies and procedures.”
The fight for treaty rights
Since Enbridge needs access to treaty-protected lands in order to complete construction, activists say the expansion also challenges long-standing agreements ensuring the right to hunt, fish, collect wild rice, and preserve cultural resources for the Ojibwe people.
“State and federal governments are violating treaties by allowing this pipeline to pass,” said Nancy Beaulieu, an Ojibwe woman who co-founded the Rise Alliance with Goodwin.
“We are here to make the carrier for all living things,” Beaulieu said. In addition to Biden’s call to end water passes, she wants the state not to allow Enbridge to need more water. “Keep in mind the drought we’re in,” she said. “Our water levels are already very low.”
In the past, courts have upheld American treaties with the Ojibwe. A court ruled in 1999 that the Ojibwe retained their right to hunt, hunt and gather, as stipulated in the 1837 and 1854 treaties.
Other activists have taken a more direct approach. At the end of last year, the original activist Tanya Obed, 52, built a prayer lodge by the Mississippi River. Her plan was to stay on the pipeline route, and she’s maintained this cultural site ever since.
In early June, Obaidah says law enforcement officers visited the lodge during prayer, and told her it was trespassing—at which point Obaid noted that the prayer hut is a protected cultural resource by the 1855 Treaty Authority.
The officers left – but the House of Prayer made clear what Indigenous activists had been saying for years: Further development of oil and gas infrastructure is in direct conflict with indigenous ways of life, and the health and safety of Indigenous peoples who depend on the land are being developed.
For now, Opid feels confident that her message is getting through. “Here, they know we are doing everything we can to protect the territory of the 1855 treaty,” said Obed.
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