Indigenous activists clash with Minnesota GOP legislators over wild rice rights

An environmental committee hearing at the Minnesota State Capitol veered into religion and fetus protections Thursday as lawmakers discussed a bill that would grant inherent rights to the state grain.

Wild rice, called manoomin in Ojibwe and psíŋ in Dakota, already has legal protections for proper harvesting, food labeling and water quality. But new this session is an effort by Indigenous and climate activists to pass landmark legislation, the Wild Rice Act, that would give wild rice the right to grow and thrive in Minnesota's abundant waters.

Some Republican lawmakers say the bill is a step too far.

"To attribute a human right to a plant, I don't know that that's a good precedent for us to set as a Legislature," said Sen. Steve Drazkowski, R-Mazeppa, who quibbled over the word "inherent."

"I don't know that we want to personify plants," he said.

Indigenous culture and tradition view wild rice as a living being and relative. The testimony from Native and non-Native supporters, including a minister and environmental experts, echoed this.

"Wild rice is not just a plant to the Anishinaabe people," White Earth Nation Tribal Rep. Eugene Sommers said in testimony directed at Drazkowski.

"It's our life way. It was the reason that we came to these lands to find the food that grows on the water."

The word inherent is appropriate for the supergrain that contains an "almost genetic" value, said Sen. Mary Kunesh, DFL-New Brighton, who introduced the Wild Rice Act. She is the first Indigenous woman to serve in the state Senate.

"Wild rice holds a profound significance for the Anishinaabe and the Dakota people, and for centuries it's been a critical source of subsistence and spiritual connection to the lands," she said.

They've harvested it by hand for hundreds of years to ensure the tradition that "binds them to their ancestors, their land and their water continues," Kunesh said.

The legislation would recognize the inherent right of wild rice "to exist and thrive in Minnesota." Supporters say the bill is not granting personhood and it's not about religion. Instead, they say, it's about Anishinaabe culture and protecting a sacred tradition for future generations.

But Sen. Nathan Wesenberg, R-Little Falls, said his religion doesn't allow him to put the rights of wild rice above the rights of a fetus.

"Giving a plant an inherent right over people is something that goes against my God and my religion," he said.

Wesenberg said he doesn't disagree that wild rice has cultural significance. "But to me," he said, "unborn babies are very important. And when I read an inherent right and we're giving a plant an inherent right over people, that really bothers me."

Wesenberg said his faith was "being attacked" and that the bill's language was fueling a divide.

Wesenberg and Drazkowski suggested rewording or eliminating language in the bill about rights being "inherent."

Drazkowski added: "If somebody ran that plant over, would there be a right of action for the plant? I sure wouldn't hope so, but that's the kind of discussion that including language like this might lead to."

Debra Topping, a member of the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa, testified that lawmakers not recognizing the Anishinaabe belief that wild rice is considered a living relative is an example of white supremacy.

"This is how we live, by protecting what gives us life," she said. "I will stand by you all day long to protect that unborn child."

The original bill included language that addressed the threats of pesticides and watercraft but has been trimmed to focus on establishing the rights of wild rice and conducting extensive mapping of where it exists.

The rights language is similar to what the White Earth Band of Ojibwe sued the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) over in a recent dispute over the Line 3 oil pipeline, said Bob Meier, an assistant commissioner with the department.

"So that does cause some concern for us," he said.

The White Earth Band, which adopted its "Rights of Manoomin" law in 2018, listed wild rice as the lead plaintiff in its lawsuit three years later after the state allowed the pipeline's construction. The "right of nature" suit was the first in Minnesota and second in the country. It was later dismissed.

Meier noted that a 2008 DNR inventory found that wild rice grew currently or historically in 1,200 Minnesota lakes and 54 counties. New maps would likely cover a majority of northern waters.

The sale of wild rice in Minnesota generates $19 million annually, and the grain supports waterfowl hunters, who spend $43 million each year, Kunesh said.

It requires no pesticides or fertilizers to thrive and provides critical wildlife habitat, she said, making it not just a symbol of Indigenous heritage, but "the cornerstone of culture for our communities and our ecosystems."

Attempts to preserve wild rice have been ineffective, said Steve Morse, executive director of the Minnesota Environmental Partnership.

"There are very real current threats, and there are very real upcoming threats to the future of wild rice," he said, noting active legislation that would "undo critical protections."

This bill, heard by the Environment, Climate, and Legacy Committee, is a chance to reset how we think about wild rice and what it means to tribes, water quality and natural resources, he said.

A vote on the proposal was delayed for consideration in the committee's omnibus bill.

In March, hundreds of people rallied at the Capitol in support of wild rice protections.