What was striking about the recent Express Sessions event that brought together Shinnecock Nation leaders and key local government officials was the tone and tenor of the conversation: Gone was the heated rhetoric of the past, the unmistakable “us versus them” dynamic that was for years the default. Today, there is consensus even on the gaming facility set to open on Shinnecock Territory just outside Southampton Village in 2023: It’s in a place nobody wants it, including the tribe itself.
Even so, the time for angry words is past, the issues are long overdue to be addressed by all sides, and a new kind of partnership is forming to finally — finally — begin to address the embarrassing way this Native American community has been treated over the years. It’s encouraging, and it’s happening because the tribe has finally decided to play the hand its dealt and build a Class II casino along Montauk Highway, on its 800-acre home.
This was used for years as a kind of threat meant to open doors in Albany to a conversation about a more appropriate, and more potentially lucrative, site closer to the city. That never happened. It was a bargaining chip that proved worthless.
So we now enter a new era, when the Shinnecock casino in Southampton is a given, not a threat. If the governor’s office continues to ignore and insult the nation, and to refuse to even have a respectful conversation about a future that could benefit all sides, the outcome is assured.
State Assemblyman Fred W. Thiele Jr. is doing his part: He’s introduced a bill in the Assembly to direct the governor to negotiate in good faith with the nation to find alternatives — if the tribe wants to have that conversation. That last part is key: Quite honestly, the only reason they might at this point is civic generosity, and the continuing promise that gaming might find a better home than along a two-lane road at the farthest end of the island, already choked with traffic.
The state, after all, is having this conversation as we speak: Needing revenue, and seeing the growing acceptance of gaming facilities, Albany could award three new state casino licenses downstate two years early. Mr. Thiele said his legislation has “one purpose and one purpose only, and that’s to try to get the Shinnecock a place at the table.”
To be clear, the Shinnecock do not need the state anymore, nor do they need a state license to open a video terminal and poker facility on their territory. But there could be a clear benefit to both sides: The nation could negotiate a better location, in exchange for the state sharing in the revenue — something it would not get if it’s built in Southampton. The nation, meanwhile, might want to discuss a license to operate a full-fledged casino that includes table games, not to mention the many money-making ancillary offerings of a gaming destination much closer to the city.
The state’s continued stonewalling of the Shinnecock Nation has been an embarrassment, and an insult, and it has taken a toll. The majority of the tribe’s members live in conditions that are unacceptable, particularly amid such wealth held largely in land that was once theirs. As Town Supervisor Jay Schneiderman put it, it’s not just about conquering poverty: For the sake of justice, “as the original settlers in this area, you guys should be living large.”
The first step is simple: The state must give the tribe a seat at the table, and then just — talk. It’s such a shamefully, infuriatingly small thing to ask.