by Susan Dugan
Jeanne Rubin, general counsel for
the International Institute for Indigenous Resource Management, learned what it
feels like to be considered outside mainstream society at an early age.
"WHAT'S GOOD FOR THE COMPANY IS NOT ALWAYS GOOD FOR THE COMMUNITY," says Jeanne Rubin, general counsel for the International Institute for Indigenous Resource Management. The organization has turned its attention to the effects of climate change of native cultures.
As a
child, she accompanied her family to Japan in 1956 where her father worked as a
civilian for the United States Army. “I lived in Japan from age four to eight.
I remember people looking at me and pointing and taking pictures. Moving back
to DC in 1960 was a shock.”
Rubin later attended the University of
Maryland for two years before transferring to the University of the Americas in
Mexico, where she earned an anthropology degree in 1974. She returned to
Washington, DC and landed a job with a just-launched Indian program within the
Department of Health, Education, and Welfare (HEW). “There was a new council
created in which every agency within HEW was represented at every meeting by
the top appointee. The idea was to have people who could make a decision at the
table. They functioned for a year organizing and then were ready to start
developing policy proposals and hire staff. I was the first staff person hired.
It was new and exciting and great fun for me.”
After nearly 10 years at HEW, Rubin applied
to law school. “I didn’t want to be a career federal employee. I had gone to
school nights and gotten a master’s degree from George Washington University
and then went to Stanford Law School.” She relocated to Denver in 1986 and
worked for a law firm specializing in commercial litigation and business law,
but “really missed that sense of doing something with more of a social
component in the public policy arena.”
Shortly thereafter Rubin struck off on her
own, serving as gaming counsel for the Ute tribe in the Four Corners area for
the next six-and-a-half years. Toward the end of that time in 1996, her
husband, who had been working for the Council of Energy Resource Tribes as
general counsel and director of their environmental program, left and founded
the International Institute for Indigenous Resource Management. Rubin began
doing pro bono work for the new organization on the side, helping them file for
501(c)3 status.
“I woke up one morning and realized I had two full-time jobs. The
institute was doing some really new and exciting things and I felt I had to
make a choice.”
Rubin has worked full-time for the law and
policy research organization ever since. “We have an all-indigenous board, and
our model is to have amazing associates we’re affiliated with that we pull in
on a project-by-project basis. We adhere to a philosophy of enhancing tribal
sovereignty and making sure that any work done with a tribe takes into
consideration the tribal culture.”
The organization has recently focused on the
direct impacts of climate change on tribal life. “Talking to people about
climate change in general is too big for people to respond to, but if you talk
about what’s happening to their water supply or to agriculture in their area,
that’s something they can focus on and deal with.” The institute hosts trainings,
workshops, and roundtables in which representatives from tribes, universities,
and industry consider issues from different perspectives.
“It’s about looking at issues from a broader
policy approach,” Rubin says. “We have partnerships with the National Center
for Atmospheric Research (NCAR) in Boulder and Haskell Nations Indian
University in Lawrence, Kansas, where our president teaches through a
long-distance learning setup and is able to bring in associates from all over
the world as speakers. Students and interns conduct research projects always
factoring in the importance of tribal input, developing research that’s
meaningful to the local community.”
Indigenous people around the world face
similar challenges to their way of life, issues revolving around land ownership
and control, how development is conducted, and whether it’s done sustainably,
for example. “What’s sustainable from the perspective of the company isn’t
necessarily sustainable from the perspective of the community. If a company comes
in to develop a resource, it creates changes. While the specifics may differ
from one community to another, in a broader sense the impacts are very
similar.”
For the past nine years Rubin has poured her
heart into the Institute’s Indigenous
Film & Arts Festival,
presented each October. The only collaboration of its kind in Colorado, the
festival displays artistic works and films from North and South American
Indian, Canadian First Nations, Hawaiian, Maori, and Aboriginal Australian
participants. The most recent event included a film screening and panel
discussion at NCAR and the University Corporation for Atmospheric Research.
“Film is a very powerful way to present an
issue firsthand without someone filtering it. We started this because film is a
good way to engage people and communicate a message. For example, we just had
another screening of a film about whaling in the Makah tribe in Washington
State. People may be familiar with the Greenpeace perspective on whaling, but
they don’t often hear from the Makah perspective where people have
traditionally hunted whales.”
Because Denver was a relocation city under
the federal policy of relocating Native Americans from reservations to urban
areas during the 1950s and 1960s, members of many American tribes attend the
festival to learn more about their heritage. “We also have Polynesians and lots
of folks from Mexico and South America living here,” Rubin says. “There’s a
population of five thousand Peruvians in Longmont. We connected up with them through
the Peruvian consulate and arranged for some people to come and do traditional
dancing at one of our festivals. We screened a Bolivian film last year and
featured an afternoon celebrating Bolivian culture.”
To find new films Rubin attends the biannual
festival conducted by the National Museum of the American Indian in New York.
“We also look at what’s being screened around the world. There’s a tremendous
Maori filmmaking industry in New Zealand. We always have an open call for
entries and we started a wonderful partnership with the Denver American Indian
Commission to present a monthly indigenous film screening.”
The idea for the monthly film screenings
sprang from a 2011 partnership with the Denver Botanic Gardens in conjunction
with the exhibit of Apache sculptor Allan Houser’s work. “The Denver American
Indian Commission wanted to continue it, so we worked together to do so.
Monthly screenings will be hosted at the Su Teatro theater on Santa Fe Drive beginning in 2013.”
Partnerships with a variety of organizations
have helped the festival grow and thrive. “One of the things I like about film
is that it is by definition a very collaborative art form. The festival has
evolved as a very collaborative event. This year, for example, we partnered
with the Art in Public Places program at Republic Plaza. We always have an art
exhibit to open the festival and this year we held an all-indigenous art
exhibit there.” Venues for film screenings included the Nighthorse Campbell
Native Health Building, the Crossroads Theatre, and the Denver Museum of Nature
and Science.
“All these organizations have opened up
their venues and supported the festival in so many ways. By moving into
different neighborhoods different people come and it really extends the
filmmakers’ reach. I’m the one at the end of the day that gets to stand on the
stage with the microphone and introduce these amazing filmmakers, but there are
so many people who make this happen. Volunteers and interns come from all over.
And all the partnering entities enabled us to offer these screenings free,
making them accessible to everyone.”
Rubin believes the festival offers creative
filmmakers with strong voices a rare opportunity to have their work experienced
and appreciated. “A lot of these films don’t make it into mainstream festivals.
Some of the filmmakers get critiqued on their pacing because their films move
slowly. There’s maybe a different eye and a different way of looking. For me to
be able to make these films available to audiences who are so appreciative is
so much fun! I get to hear the Q & A with filmmakers and artists after the
show. I get to organize all these creative people. I don’t have it in me, but I
recognize creativity when I see it. As my mother used to say, ‘If you’re not
going to learn how to bake, know where to find a good bakery.’” (Editor’s
note: to learn more about the far-reaching work of the International Institute
for Indigenous Resource Management,including
a schedule of monthly films, visit iiirm.org
or call 303-733-0481.) |