History on Their Side

It seems a lifetime ago, but there were moments of real promise in the relationship between the Shinnecock Nation and state and local governments. In 2020, after workers at a building site in Shinnecock Hills disturbed the remains of an Indigenous person, the town swiftly took action. A year later, the Town Board delivered a new law aimed at protecting graves and other culturally significant sites in town, with a focus on locations of importance to the nation. Two years later, New York State followed with a long-overdue law protecting unmarked graves. “I’m so happy it got done and this law is on the books,” tribal attorney Tela Troge said at the time. “The ancestors of the tribes in New York are now protected against desecration by residential or commercial construction.”

Since then, the Shinnecock have found themselves sharply at odds with the governments that the sovereign tribe interacts with. The Southampton Town Board’s split decision to sue to try to stop the gas station project that the Shinnecock plan along Sunrise Highway, and, subsequently, Governor Kathy Hochul’s stubborn veto of the Montaukett Nation’s bid to restore state recognition wrapped up 2024 with a reset to adversarial.

There’s an irony here, and an echo of history: In both instances, it’s all about land and its ownership. The Native American tribes were unquestionably the South Fork’s first inhabitants. The high, and rising, value of that land has always driven settlers, and their governments, not just to covet the land but at times to ignore any claims the Indigenous nations might have, legal or moral. At the dawn of 2025, that position is intact: The state, and town, treat the Shinnecock and Montaukett not as neighbors but as rivals, not as partners but as conquered foes. We might consider the tactics and court rulings of the 1800s as shameful today, but the truth is that the underlying motivations remain. In the end, it’s about greed — there’s no other word for it.

Which isn’t to ignore the realities: Progress and development have complicated these interactions that date back nearly 400 years, and it would be nearly impossible to fully rectify centuries of unfair treatment. And many of those who own property today can rightfully point out that they are innocent of any malfeasance — they didn’t seize land in Shinnecock Hills or Montauk from the tribes; they merely purchased a deed. It would be just as unfair to suggest that they forfeit rights exercised legally.

But the governments have a chance to chart a fair course forward. It doesn’t have to right every wrong, but the least it can do is acknowledge the past inequities and try to find strategies that begin to undo some of the damage — or not compound it further.

With the Montaukett, Hochul says the lone holdup after the State Legislature unanimously endorsed the restoration of state recognition is the fear of a potential land claim if recognition is granted. Never mind that the Montaukett have never suggested that course of action, and that such land claims have been used solely for leverage, since U.S. courts have generally stated the obvious: To restore land rights for Indigenous tribes would be nearly impossible to achieve. Other methods of compensation are warranted.

With her veto, the governor maintains New York State’s ghastly treatment of the Montaukett. At a time when the nation merely seeks the basic advantages that recognition would provide, the state stands firm on a lie: The Montaukett Nation died out, and its current members do not represent an unbroken link to history. That was a slur in the 1800s, and it’s still being used today in Albany. And it’s all because of land, and greed.

The Shinnecock’s ongoing interest in developing Westwoods has thorny elements, but the state’s position is rooted in the same unyielding deference granted to very shady historical court rulings. The battle over Westwoods and its ownership designation — is it “fee simple,” “trust land,” “Indian reservation,” “aboriginal” or “restricted fee”? — ignores some basic facts. It is certainly tribal land, always has been except for one very contested transaction, and the tribe’s proposed uses, whether it be billboards, a travel plaza or a casino, are all designated economic development undertaken by tribes all over the country.

Whether or not it’s the best use of the land, or fair to neighbors, the state and town should begin a conversation with Shinnecock leaders with an acceptance of these basic facts. From there, it’s quite possible that a better deal can be reached. Anyone listening closely will hear Shinnecock leaders say that they need economic development and will use Westwoods if there are no other options — but they have been more than willing to consider alternatives over the past decade or two. Local, state and county officials simply were not willing to discuss it.

History echoes in these modern conversations, and instructs them. At the moment, there are no real conversations taking place, because the Indigenous people have history on their side, and to acknowledge that is risky. But it’s also necessary. State, county and local governments should start an honest conversation, which begins with an acknowledgment of past transgressions and motivations. That’s a foundation that can support a new, lasting compact that’s fair to all sides. It’s time to stop building on sand.