Sin-Tax Failure: The Market in Contraband Tobacco and Public Safety

[An Introduction to the Black Market] [The Size of the Market] [The Engine of Growth] [The Trail of Contraband] [The Native Dimension] [Other Native Involvement in Contraband] [The Warrior’s Society and the Black Market] [Other Dimensions of Violence] [Guns in Canadian Cities] [Organized Crime] [Countering the Black Market] [The High-Price, High-Tax Strategy] [Reducing the Contraband Market]

Chapter Six

The Warrior's Society and the Black Market

The current opinion of the Warrior’s Society held by many Iroquois is perhaps best expressed in a statement issued by two of the Haudenosaunee [Iroquois] Chiefs of Confederacy in May 1990 — two months before the Oka Crisis began. The remaining traditional chiefs supported the statement.

"In recent months, the principles of the Great Law and Mohawk sovereignty have been misrepresented and manipulated by self-proclaimed "Warrior’s Society" to justify corrupt[tion of] activities and privileges of the Haudenosaunee. Some of these corrupt activities include gambling, cigarette smuggling, drug trafficking and the acquisition of weapons for warfare.

All types of gambling, smuggling and drug trafficking that take advantage of the free border crossing rights, non-tax status of the Haudenosaunee, and whose protection involves the use of weapons in these illegal activities, can not be allowed to continue under the name of the "Great Law", or under Mohawk Sovereignty or Haudenosaunee Sovereignty."

Doug George once published a newspaper in Akwesasne. A strong believer in Aboriginal Self-Government, he regarded the activities of the smugglers, Silks and Warriors in Akwesasne as detrimental to the dignity and self-assurance of Mohawks. George’s paper rarely hesitated to say as much. He quickly became a leader of the "Antis" — Akwesasne Mohawks opposed to the casinos, the Warrior/smugglers who guarded them and the Silks who owned them. By April 1990, the split became bitter and violence was brewing. In 1989 and early 1990, there were ominous rumblings that the Warriors were planning something. Refusing to be cowed, the Antis barricaded roads leading to the Casinos. The Warriors attacked with gunfire. The Band Police deputized some Antis but had to retreat in the face of superior warrior firepower.

The last stand of the Antis took place in the Snye enclave on the Reserve. The house of Doug George’s brother was ringed by Warriors and a major gunfight ensued. In the fighting, two Mohawks were killed. The circumstances of their deaths suggest both were slain by Warriors. After some delay, the Reserve was flooded by five police forces from New York, Ontario and Quebec. The Surete d’Quebec (SQ) arrested Doug George for murder on the basis of complaints laid by Warrior supporters — a move akin to arresting a pedestrian struck by a drunk driver on accusations made by an equally inebriated passenger. Meanwhile, the warriors left Akwesasne to find a new issue to recover their lost standing, the situation at Oka proved attractive.

The land claim at Oka was legitimate issue and the long-suffering Mohawks on the Reserve resorted to the use of barricades — a traditional native form of protest often used before the 1990. The Warriors began to turn up in May and June in both Kanesatake and Kahnawake. They were present at the barricade when the SQ assaulted it on July 11^th. The most probable killer of SQ Corporal Lemay was a Warrior who is still sought by Canadian authorities. As the affair ended, the Warriors slowly regained control of Akwesasne. Despite the fighting in April of 1990 and the end of the Oka Crisis in the following September, most of the Warriors remained at large with their arsenal intact. They also had two new advantages; a larger profit margin resulting from rising taxes and a reluctance by politicians to confront the Militants again. Although the charges against Doug George were dismissed out of hand by a judge, he continued to receive serious threats on his life from local Warriors.

Doug George now lives on the Oneida Reserve near Syracuse, New York and describes himself as a "political refugee" in exile from Akwesasne. He is not alone; other prominent Antis like Tom Porter have fled to Canadian cities or to the Mohawk Valley of Upstate New York. About his former home, Doug George says "Once we had all the freedoms we needed in Akwesasne, now it is a police state run by the Warriors."

Akwesasne doesn’t seem like a police state. There is no sign of any Canadian police force on Cornwall Island or Snye enclave in Quebec. On the New York side, three or four state police cars shuttle back and forth on the highway running through the Reserve — past a sign that warns them of their peril if they venture off the road. The Band Police had butted heads against the Warriors in the 1979-80 in the Racquette Point Siege, in various skirmishes around the Casinos in the 1980s and in the fighting of April 1990. Now, with little chance of getting back-up if they need it, the Native constables dare not confront any warriors and restrict themselves to minor issues. One former resident says that his brother, A Band Police officer, has "lost much standing and much face." Nevertheless, he remains in the police and waits for things to improve. After his front door had shots fired through it, he has kept a low profile.

Doug George is still loathed by the Silks. Art Montour is happy to imply to journalists that George runs a casino on the Oneida Reserve. George lives 100 meters from the Oneida casino but is not involved with it. This casino was destroyed by arson in 1988 by militants from Reserve and the Oneida Reserve in Ontario. "Smokin’ Joe" was coincidentally close at hand during the incident. The militant’s motives were that the casino was owned by the Reserve rather than by individual natives — the profit sharing precedent was unpalatable to the Warriors.

The contemporary behaviour of the Warrior’s Society is in direct opposition to the intentions of its founders and early members. It formed as a Mohawk Sovereignty and Security Force in Kahnawake in 1972. This was a time when many Indians were reasserting themselves after being smothered by Government paternalism. It first manifested as a disciplined organization for the preservation of Mohawk values and attracted people who were on the margins of Mohawk society or needed to embrace a para-military identity. The Society’s main thrust was diverted from Kahnawake after a 1973 attempt to evict all non-natives from the Reserve failed. From 1974-1976, the Warriors were sequestered at Moss Lake, New York but became involved in a lengthy stand-off with State Police, after shots were exchanged with the local residents. In 1977, New York loaned 600 acres around Miner Lake near Altona to the Warriors. This became the Ganienkeh enclave and a training site for the Society.

The Warriors evolved a political agenda of sorts during these years. They hoped to achieve a degree of sovereignty sop that Mohawks could live without interference from Ottawa or Washington. In 1979, they raided the Band Police in Akwesasne and took five officers hostage for a short time. This affair ended peacefully, but a later attempt to arrest the Warriors resulted in a stand-off which lasted for almost a year. The Warriors held out on land owned by Loran Thompson on Racquette Point. After they surrendered, they were placed in protective custody as there was some risk of being attacked by a mob of other Mohawks.

During the 1980s, Akwesasne became relatively unpoliced by outside forces and Band Police grew cautious about provoking the Warriors. As a result, the decade saw the slow corruption of the Society as Mohawk entrepreneurs exploited the opening and used the Warriors for protection. The first high-stakes bingo hall opened in 1981 and six casinos were operating by 1987. According to the State Police, these earned $7 million in profits that year, although little filtered into the hands of the Band Council. A warrior who worked as a guard for the Casinos could earn a tax-free salary of $60,000 a year. Those who objected to the activities could face trouble. As one former Warrior remarked about his former colleagues "Intimidation is their way. A lot of people would stand up to them and then they would drive by in the night and fire into their door." Until then, he was proud to be a warrior.

The justification used by the Warrior’s Society was simple but potent: To achieve sovereignty, outside authority needed to be deterred by the threat of violence so that the Warriors and nationalists could develop their own alternative authorities. Arms and alternative institutions are and an independent Akwesasne would need a financial base. The use of casinos was easy and was yielding a good return for low outlay. To protect the casinos, Akwesasne needed an increased measure of sovereignty. Thus a militant exercise in enhanced tribal-identity became warped into an exercise in monetary exploitation.

This form of circular reasoning can create a fusion of criminal and political motives and bring terrorists and gangsters to work in tandem. The Medellin Cocaine Cartel developed a working relationship with Columbia terrorists in the 1980s to destabilize Columbia for their mutual benefit. The Provisional Wing of the IRA and their Protestant counter-parts are now both largely financed by bootlegged alcohol, smuggling, off-track betting and extortion rackets. The enterprises that fun both groups are each other’s favourite targets. In Akwesasne, by the end of the 1980s, the conversion was complete and the Warriors had become corrupted.

As bingo and cheap cigarettes proliferated in Kahnawake, the Warriors returned in numbers. The tactics of intimidation learned in Akwesasne were repeated to good effort on the SQ — a force whose behavior earned the animosity of most Kahnawake residents. The Warrior’s Society arrived in Six Nations in the mid-1980s and used to meet in Dick Hill’s Smoke Shop. Currently, one of their chief mentors is Mark Maracle and it has been stated in an affidavit filed with the Ontario Family Court that Alan MacNaughton is affiliated with the Warriors. Both Dick and Reg Hill have described themselves as Warriors at times. Glen Styres hasn’t admitted any degree of association with the Warriors but said they would defend his shops against outside intrusion.

After the Warriors lost standing for the coup attempt coup in Akwesasne, they embraced the dispute at Oka and seemingly made it their own. During the crisis, masked Warriors sat at the bargaining table and insisted on complete independence for Mohawk Reserves in Canada and the US. While Aboriginal self-government is a motherhood issue for most Iroquois, only a minority of Mohawks could support autonomy if it meant rule by the Warriors. During the crisis, other Mohawks resented the effrontery of the Warriors, Silks and their political allies in attempting to represent the entire people. Many Iroquois still resent the Canadian media for accepting the claims of the militants. In Kanesatake, by the end of August 1990, over three-quarters of the 1600 residents had fled. Most of those who held against the Army in the Treatment Centre during September were not from the Reserve — many were not even Mohawks. The day before the Army moved into Kanesatake, Warriors beat one of the Reserve’s Chiefs, Francis Jacob, and his son with baseball bats. Chief Jacob had tried to prevent some Warriors from looting and vandalizing the homes of non-Natives on the Reserve.

Since Oka, the Warriors have become their own worst enemies. During the crisis, most of the Warriors and political militants were concentrated in Kahnawake and the Mercier Bridge was blocked for two months. After the Army withdrew from the Reserve in October 1990, the SQ remained reluctant to enter the area and the Warrior’s set up their own checkpoints on the roads leading into the tiny village near the base of the bridge. The area had a number of smoke-shops, gas bars and bingo halls and was a prime destination for Montrealers in search of duty-free bargains.

The antipathy generated between many Mohawks and their neighbours in 1990 continues. The rifle pits dug in 1990 on the edge of the highways running through the reserve were not filled in until 1993. There were police cars parked on the edge of Kahnawake and warrior checkpoints inside. These have been a severe blow to the smoke-shops. Less than a dozen cigarette dealerships now appear to be open in the rambling streets of the village and their prices are higher than those of Six Nations of Akwesasne. Moreover, many Montrealers have new sources of cigarettes and rarely need to come to Kahnawake anymore.

The Warrior checkpoints are gone and the village seems more relaxed than it was even a year ago. The new Council Office is humming, while the Mohawk Nation Office (home to the Warrior’s parallel political arm) is quiet. Much of the credit is due to Chief Joe Norton, who has spent four years trying to balance all the local factions under conditions that would have sent most Canadian municipal politicians into fits.

An explanation for the quiet in Kahnawake comes from a site approximately 60 kilometres due south of the Reserve. Nestled around Miner’s Lake at the base of the Adirondack Mountains, Ganienkeh sits on land loaded to the Warrior’s Society by New York State in 1977, as a solution to the occupation of Moss Lake. This was to be the site where the Warriors could strive for the discipline and dedication they sought to protect the Mohawk people. One of the Warrior’s main leaders in its earliest days, an ex-Marine and Vietnam veteran, spent the first winter there under a tarp as he and another Mohawk built the first buildings on the site. According to another Warrior, he took "the garbage and the throw-aways and put pride into them" with a training system built on his own military experiences. But "What they set out to be, is not what they are." Art Montour was one of his comrades in the early days, and may be among those most responsible for turning the militants to the purposes of the Silks.

Several Warriors, including the ex-Marine, left the Society long before the Oka Crisis in disgust with the way the Silks were gaining control of the organization. The felt that some Warriors had become little more than mercenaries and were incensed by Warriors who were "using cocaine, crack and highballs [a potent mixture of cocaine and heroin]. They are dealing." The original idealistic Warriors did not drink and regarded drug use as repugnant. One long-time Warrior was vague about the ex-Marine’s current whereabouts, but says he is another of the "exiles" from Akwesasne. HE believes that the ex-warrior finally broke with the Warrior Society when various Silks began training children and young teenagers as a hit-squad sometime in the 1989-90 at Ganienkeh.

The Warriors are up to their necks in narcotics, but sometimes seem anxious to appear to be clean. After the 40-kilo find of cocaine in New York in September 1993 was publicized, Art Montour, the Warrior leader from Akwesasne, gratuitously emerged to publicly disavow Warrior participation in the cocaine industry. This was before New York State Police had even mentioned to apparent connection between the Warriors and the cocaine shipment. Art Montour did tell Dan D’Ambrosio, a feature writer for Gentlemen’s Quarterly that both of his sons use drugs.

Montour’s disavowals ring hollow in the law enforcement community. In May 1990, as police forces flooded onto Akwesasne in the aftermath of the coup attempt, 21 arrests were made in connection with a major cocaine smuggling ring centred on Akwesasne. Kanesatake, despite the small Warrior presence before May/June 1990, was the site of a methamphetamine laboratory. An RCMP raid in April of 1988 scooped up the lab and 3 kilos of 70% pure product. The lab could produce 2 kilos a day with a street value of $200,000.

The ex-marine might react like Christ among the moneylenders if he returned to Ganienkeh. A low-level flight over the enclave shows that large luxury homes are being built inside the area, out of sight of the highway. What appears to be a rifle range is falling into disuse. Signs along the highway invite local residents to the Sunrise Bingo Hall (the Sunrise is a symbol of the Mohawk people) and there is a service station offering cheap gas by the roadside. One could think that the corruption of the Warriors is complete.

On the other hand, many of the Akwesasne exiles are firm believers in aboriginal sovereignty and want to restore the Mohawk dignity stripped away by easy money and corruption. The exiles seem unanimous in their rejection of violence. Eventually the Warriors and Silks will lose their control of the Reserves, because their "nicotocracy" is based on fraud and corruption and cannot persevere. However, the post-Warrior generation of Mohawk leadership promises to be of the very highest standards. The exiles have been tested by the temptations of easy money and tried by adversity to emerge with their principles and dignity intact.

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John Thompson is President of the Mackenzie Institute which studies political instability and terrorism. He can be reached at: mackenzieinstitute@bellnet.ca