Your Fly is Open
Krayton Kerns
2.7.07
Picture this: You are the keynote speaker at a huge public banquet. Prior to taking your seat at the head table, you are shaking hands and mingling with the crowd but, unknown to you, your fly is open. Most folks will just let you walk by, but your true friends will tell you. Remember that.
Wednesday, January 31st, Crow Chairman Carl Venne delivered the State of the Tribal Nations Address to a joint session of the 60th legislature. It was a flamboyant spectacle with regalia of drums, flags and feathers. I was born and raised on the Crow Reservation but I don’t understand their language so the meaning behind their songs and prayers eluded me.
Describing his world, Mr. Venne proudly spoke of the great percentage of his people who have served America in times of war. His words were moving. Switching directions, he lamented the many problems in Indian Country. While most of Montana is enjoying full employment, only 50% of Native Americans have jobs.
“Federal programs costing billion of dollars have left Indian Health Services under-funded,” he complained. “Also,” he said, the federal government wastes $40 million to save the wild mustang, and “we don’t ride those horses, and we don’t eat those horses.” Instead with that government aid we could develop our coal and there is enough “coal under the Crow Nation to light up the Northwest for the next 2,000 years.” Plus we need “more programs” to help our young people battle drug addiction. “And don’t forget it was the Indian votes that put Jon Tester in the Senate,” Mr. Venne concluded.
With the address completed, Darrin Old Coyote stepped forward and gave the benediction. Senate President Mike Cooney then offered Mr. Old Coyote a ring of sacred herbs and the entourage exited the Chamber.
As the room emptied, I stared at the C.M. Russell masterpiece, Lewis and Clark Meeting Indians at Ross’ Hole; the huge mural that adorns the entire south wall of the House Chamber. I studied the depiction of the proud Salish warriors, as I reflected upon the spectacle I had just witnessed. The leader of the Tribal Nations just spent 30 minutes begging for millions in aid and Senator Cooney responded by giving him a lettuce and parsley hatband. It looked like we had just purchased Manhattan Island.
Throughout the evening I pondered the many woes of Mr. Venne’s Tribal Nations. All the problems he mentioned have a single cause; drug addiction. Not just any drug, but one so strong it destroys every life it touches. It’s not meth. The Indian’s battle is with a far more dangerous and addictive drug…socialism.
Two hundred years ago the American Indians were thriving, powerful and free. Now imprisoned in poverty, they are forced to beg the government for their very existence. Socialism is a nasty drug.
When the Lewis & Clark Expedition traveled this state in 1805, their success required them to purchase goods from the indigenous residents of Montana. As a great example of free-market enterprise, items of value were traded for horses and food. By 1886 all the Indian Nations had surrendered their freedom in exchange for the promise of food, goods, housing, and medical care. They became slaves of their own security.
Every generation of Native Americans sinks deeper into the quagmire of socialism. Program after program is handed down disguised as assistance. Once you remove self-reliance, the Indians become so federal-aid dependent they are a political bloc that faithfully trades their vote for the next crumb of assistance. Look at every reservation and ghetto in America. Socialism is the same everywhere.
The folks who imprison you with the security of socialism aren’t your friends and they will never tell you your fly is open. Their intent is not to help you out of poverty; it is to keep you there. Once you trade away your freedom it is gone, possibly forever. Escaping the bondage of socialism will require the sweat of one person, one family, one neighborhood, and one town at a time. Seeking government aid only entrenches your plight. At least that is the opinion of someone who would say, “Your fly is open.”
