Navajo turmoil blamed on cultural differences
Story-Date: 02:53 a.m. PST Sunday   , March 8, 1998

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Navajo turmoil blamed on cultural differences
Indian custom in conflict with ethics regulations
LOS ANGELES TIMES

WINDOW ROCK, ARIZ. In the wake of Navajo tribe president Albert Hale's
resignation amid charges of ethical and financial misdeeds, American Indian
officials here are scrambling to heal a tribe divided over how to interpret
conduct on the part of its leaders.

Hale, 47, stepped down to avoid facing charges of accepting illegal gifts
from companies with tribal contracts -- and to prevent a repeat of the
deadly riots that followed the ouster of Navajo chairman Peter MacDonald in
1989 on corruption charges.

Hale, a lawyer, insists that accepting gifts is a Navajo custom. Not so,
say critics -- including the former chief of staff to the president's
office, who resigned a week ago saying such practices are "contrary to the
way the law is written."

Now the new president, Thomas Atcitty, and possibly other officials are
believed to be under investigation for similar alleged misdeeds.

"We're waiting for the other shoe to drop -- or a bushel basket of other
shoes," said Navajo tribe spokesman Ted Rushton. "The problem here is a
lack of clarity in the law. What Hale has done, every other elected
official has done."

Sen. Ben Nighthorse Campbell, R-Colo., a northern Cheyenne and chairman of
the Senate Indian Affairs Committee, wouldn't go quite that far. But he did
say this crisis underlines the ethical razor's edge that American Indian
leaders tread.

"What I'm doing is child's play compared to what they do; Indian politics
is mean," Campbell said. "You're always on the edge of living within your
traditions . . . and falling off into an abyss of illegal activity from a
white man's legal standpoint.

"Tribal leaders are expected to accept gifts, and give away what they have
because they have access to power and jobs," he said. "Yet if you don't
refuse a gift, you break the white man's law. Give a starving relative a
job and you're accused of nepotism. Don't give him that job, and you're
guilty of the worst kind of abandonment."

As the dispute heats up, residents in this 25,000-square-mile reservation
of red rock canyons and mesas are worrying as always about alcoholism,
crime and school-dropout rates, chronic unemployment, dwindling federal
money for social and medical programs, eroding cultural traditions and
pressure from corporations to develop mineral resources at the expense of
sovereignty rights.

But for the time being, tribal officials are focused on a political process
complicated by cultural do's-and-don'ts, as well as potentially volatile
blood ties, clan relations, extended families and traditional medicine.

Only six months from the next election, medicine men here have been busy
gazing into crystals, casting spells, conducting exorcisms and praying for
goodwill on behalf of political leaders and potential candidates on both
sides of the Hale dispute.

Political tumult is not unique to the Navajos. Where once American Indians
focused on the federal government's handling of their affairs, they now
increasingly are turning their ire against political targets within their
reservations.

In 1995, tensions over who controlled the Seneca tribe in western New York
resulted in the shooting deaths of three men. The following year, a family
feud over the tribal leadership of the Paiute in Lovelock, Nev., erupted
into charges of death threats, physical assaults and embezzlement. Now, in
Oklahoma, months of turmoil and sporadic violence over how to interpret the
Cherokee constitution have paralyzed that government.

Given the pitfalls, Hale -- who has publicly apologized for any wrongdoing
he committed while serving as Navajo leader -- said that in retrospect, "I
must have been crazy when I took that job."

Only three years ago, Hale radiated confidence and ambition after winning a
nine-way race on his vow to end corruption in tribal government, protect
sovereignty rights and give local communities authority over their own
affairs. And on a reservation where unemployment has hovered around 50
percent for decades, he promised to bring financial health to the tribe's
250,000 members by promoting locally owned small businesses.

Shortly after his election, however, Hale came under investigation for
allegedly misusing a tribal credit card. Then -- in a culture whose
foundation is based on strong family and community life -- his then-wife
publicly accused him of having an affair with his former press secretary.

A few weeks ago, his proposal to close reservation borders for one day as
an exercise of sovereignty was attacked by other Navajo leaders as
inflammatory -- and by whites who threatened to run so-called "sovereignty
roadblocks" with firearms.

Then came the offer from special prosecutor Chris Smith: Resign in exchange
for a promise that criminal charges would not be pursued.

The charges against Hale could have sent him to prison for 50 years. He
allegedly allowed Xerox Corp., which has significant contractual agreements
with the tribe, to pay his $2,250 entry fee for a golf tournament in
Phoenix, as well as lodging and meal expenses totaling $4,000.

He also allegedly accepted $1,700 from political appointees to pay his
travel expenses to attend the 1996 Democratic National Convention in
Chicago, used the Navajo tribal jet for personal reasons, allowed Conoco
Corp. to buy him dinner and accepted free rooms from a hotel in
Albuquerque, N.M.

Hale insists that his problems stem from disagreements over how to
interpret the tribe's ethical codes, which were tightened in the aftermath
of the clash between tribal police and MacDonald's supporters that left two
people dead and six officers wounded.

As it stands, all gifts worth more than $100 must be reported to government
authorities. Some tribal leaders are proposing to lift all restrictions
against accepting gifts worth up to $1,000.

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