SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
_________________
Nos. 21–1484 and 22–51
_________________
ARIZONA, et al., PETITIONERS
21–1484
v.
NAVAJO NATION, et al.
DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR, et al.,
PETITIONERS
22–51
v.
NAVAJO NATION, et al.
on writs of certiorari to the united states
court of appeals for the ninth circuit
[June 22, 2023]
Justice Gorsuch, with whom Justice Sotomayor,
Justice Kagan, and Justice Jackson join, dissenting.
Today, the Court rejects a request the Navajo
Nation never made. This case is not about compelling the federal
government to take “
affirmative steps to secure water for
the Navajos.”
Ante, at 2. Respectfully, the relief the Tribe
seeks is far more modest. Everyone agrees the Navajo received
enforceable water rights by treaty. Everyone agrees the United
States holds some of those water rights in trust on the Tribe’s
behalf. And everyone agrees the extent of those rights has never
been assessed. Adding those pieces together, the Navajo have a
simple ask: They want the United States to identify the water
rights it holds for them. And if the United States has
misappropriated the Navajo’s water rights, the Tribe asks it to
formulate a plan to stop doing so prospectively. Because there is
nothing remarkable about any of this, I would affirm the Ninth
Circuit’s judgment and allow the Navajo’s case to proceed.
I
Understanding this lawsuit requires at least
three pieces of context the Court’s opinion neglects. It requires
some understanding of the history that led to the Treaty of 1868
establishing the Navajo Reservation. It requires some insight into
the discussions that surrounded that Treaty. Finally, it requires
an appreciation of the many steps the Navajo took to avoid this
litigation.
A
For centuries, the Navajo inhabited a stretch
of land in “present-day northwestern New Mexico, northeastern
Arizona, and the San Juan drainage beyond.” J. Kessell, General
Sherman and the Navajo Treaty of 1868: A Basic and Expedient
Misunderstanding, 12 W. Hist. Q. 251, 253 (1981) (Kessell). This
ancestral home was framed by “four mountains and four rivers” the
Tribe considered sacred. Treaty Between the United States of
America and the Navajo Tribe of Indians, With a Record of the
Discussions That Led to Its Signing 2 (1968) (Treaty Record); see
also E. Rosser, Ahistorical Indians and Reservation Resources, 40
Env. L. 437, 445 (2010). There, tribal members “planted their
subsistence crops,” “hunted and gathered,” and “r[an] their
livestock” over the plains. Kessell 253.
In the 1860s, that way of life changed forever.
In the aftermath of the Mexican-American War—and following a period
of rapid westward expansion—the United States found itself
embroiled in a series of bitter conflicts with the Navajo. P.
Iverson, Diné: A History of the Navajos 37–48 (2002) (Iverson).
Eventually, the United States tasked James Henry Carleton with
resolving them.
Id., at 47–48. “Determined to bring an end
to Native resistance in the territory,” he elected for a program of
“removal, isolation, and incarceration.”
Id., at 48. He
hoped that time on a reservation would teach the Navajo “ ‘the
art of peace,’ ” and that, while confined, they might
“ ‘acquire new habits, new values, new modes of life.’ ”
Id., at 49. In time, he imagined, “ ‘the old Indians
will die off and carry with them the latent longings for murder and
robbing; the young ones will take their places without these
longings: and thus, little by little, they will become a happy and
contented people.’ ”
Ibid. This vision found support
from others in the federal government. As Commissioner of Indian
Affairs William P. Dole put it in his annual report, the situation
with the Navajo “ ‘demand[ed] the earliest possible
interposition of the military force of the government.’ ”
Ibid. In his view, only putting the Navajo on a
“ ‘suitable reservatio[n]’ ” would end their “ ‘wild
and predatory life.’ ”
Ibid.
In settling on this plan, the federal government
had goals in mind beyond reducing conflict. As Carleton explained,
“ ‘[b]y the subjugation and colonization of the Navajo [T]ribe
we gain for civilization their whole country, which is much larger
in extent than the [S]tate of Ohio, and, besides being the best
pastoral region between the two oceans, is said to abound in the
precious as well as [other] useful metals.’ ”
Id., at
50. The “ ‘exodus of this whole people from the land of their
fathers’ ” would be, he imagined, “ ‘a touching
sight.’ ”
Ibid. But no matter. He saw it as the
Navajo’s “ ‘destiny’ ” to “ ‘give way to the
insatiable progress of our race.’ ”
Ibid.
Removal demanded finding a new home for the
Tribe. Carleton picked the location himself: an area hundreds of
miles from the Navajo’s homeland “commonly called the Bosque
Redondo.”
Ibid.; see also Kessell 254. Warning signs flashed
from the start. Officers tasked with surveying the site cautioned
that it was “ ‘remote’ ” from viable
“ ‘forage’ ” and that “ ‘[b]uilding material’ ”
would have to come from a significant distance. Iverson 50
.
Worse, they found that the water supply was meager and contained
“ ‘much unhealthy mineral matter.’ ”
Ibid.; see
also Kessell 269. Carleton ignored these findings and charged ahead
with his plan. Iverson 50.
That left the not-so-small matter of securing
the Navajo’s compliance. To that end, the federal government
unleashed a “maelstrom of destruction” on the Tribe.
Id., at
51. Before all was said and done, “the Navajo had to be literally
starved into surrender.” 2 Hearing before the U. S. Commission
on Civil Rights, Office of General Counsel, Demographic and
Socio-Economic Characteristics of the Navajo 6 (1973) (Commission
Report). “[T]housands of U. S. troops roamed the Navajo [Country]
destroying everything the Navajo could use; every field,
storehouse, and hut was burned.”
Ibid. The campaign was
“brief, blunt, and, when combined with a particularly difficult
winter,” effective. Iverson 51. By the winter of 1863–1864, most of
the Navajo had surrendered. Commission Report 6–7; see also Iverson
51.
That period of violence led to “the Long Walk.”
In truth, it was not one walk but many—over 53 separate incidents,
according to some.
Id., at 52. In each case, federal
officers rounded up tribal members, “[h]erded [them] into columns,”
and marched them hundreds of miles from their home. Kessell 254.
“Many died en route, some shot by the souldiers.” Commission Report
7. As one Navajo later recounted, people were killed “ ‘on the
spot if they sa[id] they [were] tired or sick or if they stop[ped]
to help someone.’ ” Iverson 55. Still “[o]thers fell victim to
slavers with the full complicity of the U. S. officials.”
Commission Report 7.
Those who survived wound up at “a destination
that surpassed their fears.” Iverson 52. Bosque Redondo was just
what the officers had warned: a “semiarid, alkaline, fuel-stingy,
insect-infested environment.” Kessell 255. And, just as they
predicted, water proved a serious issue. The Tribe was forced to
rely on a “ ‘little stream winding through an immense
plain.’ ” Iverson 59. But its “water was bad.” Kessell 259. No
surprise, then, that “[o]nly half the land under cultivation at the
Bosque was productive.”
Ibid. No surprise either that even
the productive land yielded “one disastrous crop failure after
another.”
Id., at 255. Further feeding the crisis, Carleton
“badly underestimated the number of Navajos who would end up at the
Bosque Redondo.”
Ibid. All told, the relocation proved a
“catastrophe for the Navajo; 2,000 died there in four years.”
Commission Report 8.
B
“By 1868 even the U. S. government could see”
that the present conditions could not persist.
Ibid. So it
set out to relocate the Navajo once more. To that end, the United
States sent members of the Indian Peace Commission to negotiate a
new treaty with the Tribe. Kessell 257–258. Led by General William
Tecumseh Sherman, the Commission disfavored allowing the Navajo to
return to their homeland.
Ibid. Doing that, the Commission
feared, risked rekindling old hostilities.
Id., at 257. So
Sherman tried to persuade the Navajo to relocate someplace else.
Understanding the importance of water to the Navajo, he offered
them assurances that other locations would have “plenty of water.”
Treaty Record 5.
The Navajo would have none of it. Their lead
negotiator, Barboncito, refused to “go to any other country except
[his] own.”
Ibid. Any place else, he said, could “turn out
another Bosque Redondo.”
Id., at 5–6. “[O]utside [our] own
country,” Barboncito told Sherman, “we cannot raise a crop, but in
it we can raise a crop almost anywhere.”
Id., at 3. “[W]e
know this land does not like us,” he said of Bosque Redondo, and
“neither does the water.”
Ibid. Along the way, he spoke of
“the heart of Navajo country,” which he described as including a
place where “the water flows in abundance.”
Id., at 8. In
the end, “[t]he will of the Navajos—personified in the intense
resolve of Barboncito,” won out. Kessell 259. Sherman came to
realize that, if he left the Navajo at Bosque Redondo, the dire
conditions—including “ ‘the foul character of [the]
water’ ”—would eventually induce them to drift away from the
encampment.
Id., at 260. And the Navajo flatly refused to
move to some other unfamiliar place.
Ibid.
Arriving at that conclusion proved simple
enough; arriving upon a treaty proved more challenging. There was,
of course, no small power asymmetry. As one Senator noted at the
time, it was a curious feature that the Commissioners set out to
“ ‘conclude a treaty with Indians’ ” who were at that
very moment being “ ‘held on a reservation against their
will.’ ”
Id., at 259. Language barriers presented
complications too. Messages had to be translated twice—first from
English to Spanish, and then from Spanish to Navajo.
Id., at
261. Aggravating matters, the parties saw the world very
differently. The United States’ representatives “spoke of
artificial lines on maps, of parallels and meridians”; the Navajo
spoke “of geographical features, of canyons, mountains, and mesas.”
Ibid. The United States’ representatives “talked about
ownership and a claim to the land”; the Navajo talked about “using
the land.”
Ibid. As a result, the parties often
“misunderstood each other.”
Ibid. And whether intentionally
or inadvertently, Sherman “misled” the Navajo about, among other
things, the size of their reservation.
Id., at 263. He
promised twice the land that they received in the final accounting.
Ibid.
In the end, the Treaty of 1868 provided the
Navajo less land per capita—two-thirds less—than the other Tribes
the Indian Peace Commission would go on to negotiate with.
Id., at 268. It seems that owed, in no small part, to the
negotiators’ understanding that the Navajo had “already experienced
irrigation agriculture” and could plausibly get by with less.
Ibid. Indeed, when providing instructions to the Indian
Peace Commission about how they should negotiate with the Navajo,
the Secretary of the Interior discussed the possibility of
agriculture as bearing on the appropriate size of the Tribe’s
reservation. Unlike the Navajo, he thought, “ ‘[w]ild Indians
cannot at once be transformed into farmers. They must pass through
the intermediate stage of herdsmen. They must first become
pastoral, then agricultural.’ ”
Id., at 269.
Despite all this, “[f]or the Navajos the treaty
signified not defeat, but victory, and not disappearance, but
continuation.” Iverson 36. “The agreement allowed [them] to return
to a portion of their home country.”
Ibid. Nor would that
“portion” remain so confined. The Navajo often struggled to stay on
the narrow tract of land the United States provided. Commission
Report 9. In practice, the federal government often tolerated (and
sometimes encouraged) the Navajo to live and tend to livestock off
reservation to preserve their self-sufficiency. Kessell 271. These
arrangements continued until the 1930s, when Congress first
“enact[ed] legislation defining the exterior boundaries of the
Navajo Reservation.”
Id., at 272. Over the ensuing decades,
Congress would go on to extend the reservation’s boundaries
repeatedly. See,
e.g., Act of June 14, 1934, 48 Stat. 960;
Act of Feb. 21, 1931, ch. 269, 46 Stat. 1204; Act of May 23, 1930,
ch. 317, 46 Stat. 378.
C
Fast forward to the present. Today, the Navajo
Reservation has become “the largest Indian reservation in the
United States,” with over “17 million acres,” and over “300,000
members.” App. 90. Its western boundary runs alongside a vast
stretch of the Colorado River.
Id., at 91. Yet even today,
water remains a precious resource. “Members of the Navajo Nation
use around 7 gallons of water per day for all of their household
needs”—less than one-tenth the amount the average American
household uses.
Id., at 101. In some parts of the
reservation, as much as 91% of Navajo households “lack access to
water.”
Id., at 102.
That deficit owes in part to the fact that no
one has ever assessed what water rights the Navajo possess. For
instance, “[a]lthough the Navajo Reservation is adjacent to the
Colorado River, the Navajo Nation’s rights to use water from the
Colorado River” have never been adjudicated.
Id., at 36. The
United States acknowledges that it holds certain water rights “in
trust” for the Navajo. See Tr. of Oral Arg. 26, 40. It does not
dispute that it exercises considerable control over the disposition
of water from the Colorado River. And it concedes that the Navajo’s
water rights “may . . . include some portion of the
mainstream of the Colorado.”
Id., at 33. But instead of
resolving what the Navajo’s water rights might be, the United
States has sometimes resisted efforts to answer that question.
The current legal regime governing the Colorado
River began with a 1922 interstate compact between seven States.
That agreement split the Colorado into two basins—an Upper Basin
and a Lower Basin. See Colorado River Compact, Art. II, Colo. Rev.
Stat. §37–61–101 (2022). The compact answered some high-level
questions about which States could lay claim to which sections of
the river. But it did not purport to “affec[t] the obligations of
the United States of America to Indian [T]ribes.”
Id., Art.
VII. In that way, it left the Navajo with no insight into what
water they could claim as their own.
Six years later, Congress entered the picture by
passing the Boulder Canyon Project Act, 45 Stat. 1057, codified at
43 U. S. C. §§617–619b. That Act had a profound impact on
the Lower Basin. It authorized the construction of the Hoover Dam
and the creation of Lake Mead. §617. More than that, it gave the
Secretary of the Interior substantial power to divvy up the
resulting impounded water. Failing agreement among the States in
the region, the law authorized the Secretary to enter into
contracts for the delivery of water and provided that “[n]o person”
may have water from the mainstream of the Colorado in the Lower
Basin “except by contract.” §617d; see also
Arizona v.
California,
373 U.S.
546, 565 (1963) (
Arizona I ). In adopting this law,
Congress hoped “to put an end to the long-standing dispute over
Colorado River waters.”
Id., at 560.
Reality never quite caught up to the law’s
ambitions. After an agreement among the States failed to emerge and
the Secretary began issuing contracts to various users, Arizona in
1952 brought an original action in this Court against California
seeking a declaration of its water rights in the Lower Basin.
Id., at 550–551. Several other States intervened.
Ibid. So did the United States.
Ibid. In doing so,
the federal government claimed the need to “protect federal
interests, including the rights of the Navajo Nation and
twenty-four other Indian [T]ribes in the Lower Basin.” App. 104. As
the litigation unfolded, however, the Navajo began to worry that
the United States did not have their best interests in mind. In
1956, the Navajo Nation sought leave to file (along with six other
Tribes) a motion seeking “to define the scope of the representation
of the [T]ribes by the United States” and objecting to what they
considered a “lack of effective representation and [a] conflict of
interest.”
Id., at 105. That motion was denied.
Ibid.
Proceeding without the Navajo, this Court
referred the litigation to a Special Master. In time, the Special
Master prepared a report and recommendation that omitted any
mention of the Tribe.
Ibid. In response, the Navajo wrote to
the Attorney General. They asked the United States to object to the
Special Master’s report on their behalf.
Id., at 105–106.
The Navajo say they never received a response.
Id., at 106.
For its part, the United States eventually did object—but not on
the grounds the Navajo sought.
Ibid.
Having seen enough, the Navajo in 1961 moved to
intervene.
Ibid. They “argued that the United States had
failed to vigorously assert” their interests.
Ibid. More
than that, the Tribe contended, the United States had
“ ‘abandoned the case so far as the adjudication of the rights
of the Navajo Indians [was] concerned.’ ”
Ibid. The
United States opposed the Tribe’s motion.
Ibid. On its view,
it had already “ ‘undertaken representation of the interests
of several Indian [T]ribes,’ ” so there was no need for the
Court to hear from the Navajo.
Id., at 107. In any event,
the United States assured the Court, it would continue to apply
“ ‘considerations of justice’ ” in its dealings with the
Tribe.
Ibid. The government conceded, however, “no evidence
had been submitted on behalf of the Navajo Nation for uses from the
mainstream.”
Ibid. And it conceded that “such evidence would
have had to be submitted in order for the Court to consider the
issue of the Navajo Nation’s rights to the mainstream.”
Ibid. As with their previous attempts to make their voices
heard in the litigation, the Navajo’s motion to intervene was
denied.
Id., at 108.
In 1964, the litigation Arizona initiated more
than a decade earlier culminated in a decree. See
Arizona v.
California,
376 U.S.
340. It allocated the Lower Basin Colorado River mainstream
among various parties—including five other Tribes whose interests
the United States did assert. See
id., at 344–345. The
decree also permitted the federal government to release water
pursuant to certain “valid contracts” and applicable federal laws.
Id., at 343; Brief for Federal Parties 7. But the Tribe’s
rights remained in limbo. The United States never asserted any
rights on the Navajo’s behalf; the Navajo never received an
opportunity to assert them for themselves. Since 1964, the decree
governing the Lower Basin has been modified at various points. See,
e.g., Arizona v.
California, 547 U.S. 150
(2006);
Arizona v.
California,
531 U.S. 1
(2000);
Arizona v.
California,
466 U.S.
144 (1984). But it has never been modified to address the
Navajo.
In the intervening years, the Navajo have asked
the federal government—repeatedly—to assess their rights in the
mainstream of the Colorado. App. 109. In response to those
inquiries, the Tribe received a letter from the Department of the
Interior indicating that the Department still had not made “any
decisions” about what water rights, if any, the Navajo may have in
the river.
Id., at 110. The Department posited that figuring
that out would be a “somewhat lengthy process,” one that had “yet
to be initiated.”
Ibid.
Unwilling to wait indefinitely, the Navajo
eventually filed this suit. In it, the Navajo sought “injunctive
and declaratory relief to compel the Federal Defendants to
determine the water required to meet the needs of the Nation’s
lands in Arizona and devise a plan to meet those needs to fulfill
the promise of the United States to make the Nation’s Reservation
lands a permanent homeland for the Navajo people.”
Id., at
86. In other words, the Tribe asked the United States to assess
what water rights it holds in trust on the Tribe’s behalf pursuant
to the Treaty of 1868. Tr. of Oral Arg. 71–72. And if it turns out
the United States has misappropriated those water rights, the Tribe
wants the federal government to come up with a plan to set things
right.
II
With a view of this history, the proper
outcome of today’s case follows directly. The Treaty of 1868
promises the Navajo a “permanent home.” Treaty Between the United
States of America and the Navajo Tribe of Indians, June 1, 1868,
Art. XIII, 15 Stat. 671 (ratified Aug. 12, 1868) (Treaty of 1868).
That promise—read in conjunction with other provisions in the
Treaty, the history surrounding its enactment, and background
principles of Indian law—secures for the Navajo some measure of
water rights. Yet even today the extent of those water rights
remains unadjudicated and therefore unknown. What is known is that
the United States holds some of the Tribe’s water rights in trust.
And it exercises control over many possible sources of water in
which the Tribe may have rights, including the mainstream of the
Colorado River. Accordingly, the government owes the Tribe a duty
to manage the water it holds for the Tribe in a legally responsible
manner. In this lawsuit, the Navajo ask the United States to
fulfill part of that duty by assessing what water rights it holds
for them. The government owes the Tribe at least that much.
A
Begin with the governing legal principles.
Under our Constitution, “all Treaties made” are “the supreme Law of
the Land.” Art. VI, cl. 2. Congress can pass laws to
implement those treaties, see,
e.g.,
Bond v.
United States,
572 U.S.
844, 851, 855 (2014), and the Executive Branch can act in
accordance with them, see,
e.g., Fok Yung Yo v.
United States,
185 U.S.
296, 303 (1902). But the Judiciary also has an important role
to play. The Constitution extends “[t]he judicial Power” to cases
“arising under . . . Treaties made, or which shall be
made.” Art. III, §2, cl. 1. As a result, this Court has
recognized that Tribes may sue to enforce rights found in treaties.
See
Moe v.
Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes of
Flathead Reservation,
425 U.S.
463, 472–477 (1976). Other branches share the same
understanding. In enacting the Indian Trust Asset Reform Act of
2016, Congress confirmed its belief that “commitments made through
written treaties” with the Tribes “established enduring and
enforceable Federal obligations” to them. 25
U. S. C. §5601(4)–(5) (emphasis added). The Executive
Branch has likewise and repeatedly advanced the position—including
in this very litigation—that “a treaty can be the basis of a
breach-of-trust claim” enforceable in federal court. Brief for
Federal Parties 22–23, n. 5.
What rights does a treaty secure? A treaty is
“essentially a contract between two sovereign nations.”
Washington v.
Washington State Commercial Passenger
Fishing Vessel Assn.,
443 U.S.
658, 675 (1979). So a treaty’s interpretation, like “a
contract’s interpretation, [is] a matter of determining the
parties’ intent.”
BG Group plc v.
Republic of
Argentina,
572 U.S.
25, 37 (2014). That means courts must look to the “shared
expectations of the contracting parties.”
Air France v.
Saks,
470 U.S.
392, 399 (1985). All with an eye to ensuring both sides receive
the “benefit of their bargain.”
Mobil Oil Exploration &
Producing Southeast, Inc. v.
United States,
530 U.S.
604, 621 (2000).
That exercise entails the application of
familiar principles of contract interpretation. Those principles
include an implied covenant of “the utmost good faith” and fair
dealing between the parties.
Sullivan v.
Kidd,
254 U.S.
433, 439 (1921). They include the doctrine of
contra
proferentem—the principle that any uncertainty in a contract
should be construed against the drafting party. See
Lamps Plus,
Inc. v.
Varela, 587 U. S. ___, ___–___ (2019) (slip
op., at 9–10); see also 1 Oppenheim’s International Law 1279 (R.
Jennings & A. Watts eds., 9th ed. 1992). And they include the
doctrine of unilateral mistake—the notion that, if two parties
understand a key provision differently, the controlling meaning is
the one held by the party that could not have anticipated the
different meaning attached by the other. See Restatement (Second)
of Contracts §201(2) (1979).
Still other doctrines impose a “higher degree of
scrutiny” on contracts made between parties sharing a fiduciary
relationship, given the risk the fiduciary will (intentionally or
otherwise) “misuse” its position of trust. 28 R. Lord, Williston on
Contracts §71:53, p. 617 (4th ed. 2020). When it comes to the
United States, such fiduciary duties must, of course, come from
positive law, “not the atmosphere.”
Haaland v.
Brackeen, 599 U. S. ___, ___–___ (2023) (slip op., at
11–12). But the United States has, through “acts of Congress” and
other affirmative conduct, voluntarily assumed certain specific
fiduciary duties to the Tribes.
Seminole Nation v.
United
States,
316 U.S.
286, 287, 297 (1942). That raises the specter of undue
influence—especially since, in many negotiations with the Tribes,
the United States alone had “representatives skilled in diplomacy”
who were “masters of [its] written language,” who fully
“underst[ood] the . . . technical estates known to
[its] law,” and who were “assisted by an interpreter [they]
employed.”
Jones v.
Meehan,
175 U.S.
1, 11 (1899).
Put together, these insights have long
influenced the interpretation of Indian treaties. “The language
used in treaties with the Indians should never be construed to
their prejudice.”
Worcester v.
Georgia, 6 Pet. 515,
582 (1832) (McLean, J., concurring). Rather, when a treaty’s words
“are susceptible of a more extended meaning than their plain
import,” we must assign them that meaning.
Ibid. Our duty,
this Court has repeatedly explained, lies in interpreting Indian
treaties “in a spirit which generously recognizes the full
obligation of this [N]ation.”
Tulee v.
Washington,
315 U.S.
681, 684–685 (1942); see also
United States v.
Winans,
198 U.S.
371, 380–381 (1905);
Choctaw Nation v.
United
States,
119 U.S.
1, 27–28 (1886). We sometimes call this interpretive
maxim—really just a special application of ordinary
contract-interpretation principles—the Indian canon. See F. Cohen,
Handbook of Federal Indian Law §2.02, p. 119 (N. Newton ed.
2005); R. Collins, Never Construed to Their Prejudice: In Honor of
David Getches, 84 U. Colo. L. Rev. 1, 6–7 (2013).
With time, too, these interpretive insights have
yielded some more concrete rules. First, courts must “give effect
to the terms” of treaties as “the Indians themselves would have
understood them.”
Minnesota v.
Mille Lacs Band of
Chippewa Indians,
526 U.S.
172, 196 (1999); see also
Tulee, 315 U. S., at 684.
Second, to gain a complete view of the Tribes’ understanding,
courts may (and often must) “look beyond the written words to the
larger context that frames the Treaty.”
Mille Lacs Band, 526
U. S., at 196. That includes taking stock of “the history of
the treaty, the negotiations, and the practical construction
adopted by the parties.”
Choctaw Nation v.
United
States,
318 U.S.
423, 432 (1943). Third, courts must assume into those treaties
a duty of “good faith” on the part of the United States to
“protec[t]” the Tribes and their ways of life. See
Washington
State Commercial Passenger Fishing Vessel Assn., 443
U. S., at 666–667.
It is easy to see the purchase these rules have
for reservation-creating treaties like the one at issue in this
case. Treaties like that almost invariably designate property as a
permanent home for the relevant Tribe. See
McGirt v.
Oklahoma, 591 U. S. ___, ___ (2020) (slip op., at 5).
And the promise of a permanent home necessarily implies certain
benefits for the Tribe (and certain responsibilities for the United
States). One set of those benefits and responsibilities concerns
water. This Court long ago recognized as much in
Winters v.
United States,
207 U.S.
564 (1908).
That case involved the Milk River, which flows
along the northern border of the Fort Belknap Reservation.
Id., at 565–567 (statement of McKenna, J.). Upstream
landowners invested their own resources to build dams and
reservoirs which indirectly deprived the Tribes living on the
reservation of water by reducing the volume available downstream.
Id., at 567. The United States sued on the Tribes’ behalf to
enjoin the landowners’ actions.
Id., at 565. In assessing
the government’s claim, the Court looked to the agreement
establishing that reservation and found no language speaking to the
Tribes’ water rights at all.
Id., at 575–576. Nevertheless,
the Court concluded, the agreement reserved water rights for the
Tribes in the Milk River and found for the government.
Id.,
at 577. The Court considered it inconceivable that, having once
enjoyed “beneficial use” of nearby waters, the Tribes would have
contracted to “give up all th[at].”
Id., at 576. After all,
the lands described in the reservation “were arid and, without
irrigation, were practically valueless,” and “communities could not
be established” without access to adequate water.
Ibid.
(internal quotation marks omitted). For these reasons, the
agreement’s provisions designating the land as a permanent home for
the Tribes necessarily implied that the Tribes would enjoy
continued access to nearby sources of water.
Ibid. A
contrary reading, the Court said, would “impair or defeat” the
parties’ agreement.
Id., at 577.
While
Winters involved a claim brought by
the United States, the federal government asserted “the rights of
the Indians” themselves.
Id., at 576. This Court’s
subsequent cases have confirmed as much. In
United States v.
Powers,
305 U.S.
527 (1939), for instance, this Court cited
Winters as
authority for its holding that a different treaty impliedly
“reserved” waters “for the equal benefit
of tribal members.”
Id., at 532 (emphasis added). So when the reservation was
dissolved and the land allotted, “the right to use some portion of
tribal waters essential for cultivation passed
to the
owners” of the individual plots of land.
Ibid. (emphasis
added). Later, in
Arizona I, this Court described
Winters as standing for the principle that “the Government,
when it create[s an] Indian Reservation, intend[s] to deal fairly
with the Indians by reserving
for them the waters without
which their lands would have been useless.” 373 U. S., at 600
(emphasis added). Congress would not “creat[e] an Indian
Reservation without intending to reserve waters necessary to make
the reservation livable.”
Id., at 559.
Sometimes the United States may hold a Tribe’s
water rights in trust. When it does, this Court has recognized, the
United States must manage those water rights “[a]s a fiduciary,”
Arizona v.
California,
460 U.S.
605, 626–627 (1983) (
Arizona II ), one held to “the
most exacting fiduciary standards,”
Seminole Nation, 316
U. S., at 297. This is no special rule. “[F]iduciary duties
characteristically attach to decisions” that involve “managing
[the] assets and distributing [the] property” of others.
Pegram v.
Herdrich,
530 U.S.
211, 231 (2000). It follows, then, that a Tribe may bring an
action in equity against the United States for “fail[ing] to
provide an accurate accounting of ” the water rights it holds
on a Tribe’s behalf.
United States v.
Tohono O’odham
Nation,
563 U.S.
307, 318 (2011). After all, it is black-letter law that a
plaintiff may seek an accounting “whenever the defendant is a
fiduciary who has been entrusted with property of some kind
belonging to the plaintiff,” even if the defendant is not
“express[ly]” named a “trustee.” J. Eichengrun, Remedying the
Remedy of Accounting, 60 Ind. L. J. 463, 468–469, and
n. 18 (1985) (noting cases); see also A. Newman, G. Bogert,
& G. Bogert, Law of Trusts and Trustees §967, p. 201 (3d ed.
2010) (“fiduciary relationship [is] sufficient to support an action
for an accounting” whenever the fiduciary exercises “discretion
over trust” assets).
B
With these principles in mind, return to the
Navajo’s case and start with the most basic terms of the parties’
agreement. In signing the Treaty of 1868, the Navajo agreed to
“relinquish all right to occupy any territory outside their
reservation.” Art. IX, 15 Stat. 670. In exchange, the Navajo were
entitled to “make the reservation . . . their permanent
home.” Art. XIII,
id., at 671. Even standing alone, that
language creates enforceable water rights under
Winters. As
both parties surely would have recognized, no people can make a
permanent home without the ability to draw on adequate water.
Otherwise, the Tribe’s land would be “practically valueless,”
“defeat[ing] the declared purpose” of the Treaty.
Winters,
207 U. S., at 576–577.
Other clues make the point even more obvious.
Various features of the Treaty were expressly keyed to an
assumption about the availability of water. The United States
agreed to build certain structures “within said reservation, where
. . . water may be convenient.” Art. III, 15 Stat.
668. Under the Treaty’s terms, too, individual Navajo were entitled
to select tracts of land within the reservation to “commence
farming” and for “purposes of cultivation.” Art. V,
ibid. If an individual could show that he “intend[ed] in
good faith to commence cultivating the soil for a living,” the
Treaty entitled him to “receive seeds and agricultural implements.”
Art. VII,
id., at 669. Similarly, the Treaty promised
large numbers of animals to the Tribe. Art. XII,
id., at
670. Those guarantees take as a given that the Tribe could access
water sufficient to live, tend crops, and raise animals in
perpetuity.
As we have seen, “the history of the treaty, the
negotiations, and the practical construction adopted by the
parties” may also inform a treaty’s interpretation.
Choctaw
Nation, 318 U. S., at 432. And here history is
particularly telling. Much of the Navajo’s plight at Bosque Redondo
owed to both the lack of water and the poor quality of what water
did exist. General Sherman appreciated this point and expressly
raised the availability of water in his negotiations with the
Tribe. Treaty Record 5. Doubtless, he did so because everyone had
found the water at Bosque Redondo insufficient and because the
Navajo’s strong desire to return home rested in no small part on
the availability of water there.
Id., at 3, 8. Because the
Treaty of 1868 must be read as the Navajo “themselves would have
understood” it,
Mille Lacs Band, 526 U. S., at 196, it
is impossible to conclude that water rights were not included.
Really, few points appear to have been
more central to both
parties’ dealings.
What water rights does the Treaty of 1868 secure
to the Tribe? Remarkably, even today no one knows the answer. But
at least we know the right question to ask: How much is required to
fulfill the purposes of the reservation that the Treaty of 1868
established? See
Nevada v.
United States,
463 U.S.
110, 116, n. 1 (1983) (citing cases). We know, too, that a
Tribe’s
Winters rights are not necessarily limited to the
water sources found within the corners of their reservation.
Winters itself involved a challenge to the misappropriation
of water by upstream landowners from a river that ran along the
border of tribal lands. 207 U. S., at 576
. And here the
Navajo’s Reservation likewise stands adjacent to a long stretch of
the Colorado River flowing through both its Upper and Lower Basins.
App. 91. Finally, we know that “it is impossible to believe that
when . . . the Executive Department of this Nation
created the [various] reservations” in the arid Southwest it was
“unaware that . . . water from the [Colorado R]iver would
be essential to the life of the Indian people and to the animals
they hunted and the crops they raised.”
Arizona I, 373
U. S., at 598–599. Nor does the United States dispute any of
this. To the contrary, it acknowledges that the Navajo’s water
rights very well “may . . . include some portion of
the mainstream of the Colorado” that runs adjacent to their
reservation. Tr. of Oral Arg. 33.
For our purposes today, that leaves just one
question: Can the Tribe state a legally cognizable claim for relief
asking the United States to assess what water rights they have? Not
even the federal government seriously disputes that it acts “as a
fiduciary” of the Tribes with respect to tribal waters it manages.
Arizona II, 460 U. S., at 627–628. Indeed, when it
comes to the Navajo, the United States freely admits that it holds
certain water rights for the Tribe “in trust.” Tr. of Oral Arg. 40.
And of course, that must be so given that the United States
exercises pervasive control over much water in the area, including
in the adjacent Colorado River. See
Arizona I, 373
U. S., at 564–565.
Those observations suffice to resolve today’s
dispute. As we have seen, that exact coupling—a fiduciary
relationship to a specific group and complete managerial control
over the property of that group—gives rise to a duty to account.
See
supra, at 16–17. The United States, we know, must act in
a “legally [a]dequate” way when it comes to the Navajo’s water it
holds in trust.
Arizona II, 460 U. S., at 627. It
follows, as the United States concedes, that the federal government
could not “legally” dam off the water flowing to their Reservation,
as doing so would “interfere with [the Tribe’s] exercise of their”
water rights. Tr. of Oral Arg. 13. Implicit in that concession is
another. Because
Winters rights belong to the Navajo
themselves, the United States cannot lawfully divert them
elsewhere—just as a lawyer cannot dispose of a client’s property
entrusted to him without permission. And the
only way to
ensure compliance with that obligation is to give the Tribe just
what they request—an assessment of the water rights the federal
government holds on the Tribe’s behalf.
III
The Court does not dispute most of this. It
agrees that the Navajo enjoy “water rights implicitly reserved to
accomplish the purpose of the reservation.”
Ante, at 2. It
agrees that the United States cannot lawfully interfere with those
water rights.
Ante, at 2, 6, 7. And it leaves open the
possibility that the Navajo “may be able to assert the interests
they claim in water rights litigation.”
Ante, at 12. Really,
the Court gets off the train just one stop short. It insists (and
then repeats—again and again) that the United States owes no
“affirmative duty” to the Navajo with respect to water, and
therefore does not need to take any “affirmative steps” to help the
Tribe on that score.
Ante, at 2, 6–13. This reasoning
reflects three errors.
A
The Court begins by misapprehending the nature
of the Navajo’s complaint. Though it never quite cashes out what
the phrase “affirmative steps” means, the Court appears concerned
that allowing this complaint to proceed could result in a court
order requiring the United States to “buil[d] pipelines, pumps,
wells, or other water infrastructure.”
Ante, at 2, 6, 7.
More than that, the Court worries that—if a lower court finds that
the United States has any water-related responsibilities to the
Tribe—the federal government might even eventually find itself on
the hook to “farm land, mine minerals, harvest timber, build roads,
or construct bridges on the reservation.”
Ante, at 13; see
also
ante, at 9.
The Tribe’s lawsuit asks for nothing of the
sort. The Tribe expressly disavows any suggestion that, “as a
matter of treaty interpretation . . . the United States
is legally obligated to pay for pipelines or aquifers,” for
example. Tr. of Oral Arg. 78. Instead and again, the Tribe’s
complaint seeks simply to “compel the Federal Defendants to
determine the water required to . . . fulfill the
promise[s]” made to them under the Treaty of 1868. App. 86. Only if
the United States is, in fact, “
interfer[ing] with [their]
reserved water rights” in some way,
ante, at 6, could the
Tribe then ask the federal government to “devise a plan” for
achieving compliance with its obligations, App. 86. And, for all
anyone presently can tell, the United States may be interfering in
just that way. Asking the federal government to assess what it
holds in trust and to ensure that it is not misappropriating water
that belongs to the Tribe has nothing to do with building pipelines
or farming land.
B
Having mistaken the nature of the Navajo’s
complaint, the Court proceeds next to analyze it under the wrong
legal framework. Citing cases like
United States v.
Jicarilla Apache Nation,
564 U.S.
162 (2011);
United States v.
Navajo Nation,
537 U.S.
488 (2003) (
Navajo I); and
United States v.
Mitchell,
445 U.S.
535 (1980) (
Mitchell I), the Court tries to hammer a
square peg (the Navajo’s request) through a round hole (our Tucker
Acts framework). See
ante, at 7–9, and n. 1. To
understand why those cases are inapposite, a little background is
in order.
When an Indian Tribe seeks damages from the
United States, it must usually proceed under the terms of the
Tucker Act, 28 U. S. C. §1491, and the Indian Tucker Act,
§1505. Together, those provisions facilitate suits for money
damages in the Court of Federal Claims for claims “arising under
the Constitution, laws or treaties of the United States, or
Executive orders of the President.”
Ibid. Notably, however,
the Tucker Acts provide only a selective waiver of sovereign
immunity, not a cause of action. To determine whether a Tribe can
seek money damages on any given claim, this Court has laid out a
two-part test. First, a court must ascertain whether there exists
“specific rights-creating or duty-imposing statutory or regulatory
prescriptions,”
Navajo I, 537 U. S., at 506,
producing a scheme that bears the “hallmarks of a more conventional
fiduciary relationship,”
United States v.
White Mountain
Apache Tribe,
537 U.S.
465, 473 (2003). Second, once a Tribe has identified such a
provision, the court must use “trust principles” to assess whether
(and in what amount) the United States owes damages.
United
States v.
Navajo Nation,
556 U.S.
287, 301 (2009) (
Navajo II ).
To describe this regime is to explain why the
Court errs in relying on it. The Navajo do not bring a claim for
money damages in the Court of Federal Claims under the Tucker Acts
(thereby implicating those Acts’ selective waiver of sovereign
immunity). Rather, the Navajo seek equitable relief in federal
district court on a treaty claim governed by the familiar
principles recounted above. See
supra, at 12–17. They do so
with the help of 28 U. S. C. §1362, a provision enacted
after the Tucker Acts that gives federal district courts
“original jurisdiction” over “civil actions” brought by Tribes
“under the Constitution, laws, or treaties of the United States.”
Ibid.; see also Brief for Historians as
Amici Curiae
31. As this Court has noted, §1362 serves “to open the federal
courts to the kind of claims that could have been brought by the
United States as trustee, but for whatever reason were not so
brought.”
Moe, 425 U. S., at 472. That perfectly
summarizes the claim that the Navajo advance here—a treaty-based
claim bottomed on
Winters that all agree the United States
could bring in its capacity as a trustee. Nor does anyone question
that the United States has waived sovereign immunity for claims
“seeking relief other than money damages” based on an allegation
that federal officials have “acted or failed to act” as the law
requires. 5 U. S. C. §702.
This Court’s decisions have long recognized that
claims for equitable relief in federal district court operate under
a distinct framework than claims for money damages brought in the
Court of Federal Claims under the Tucker Acts. In
United
States v.
Mitchell,
463 U.S.
206 (1983) (
Mitchell II ), for example, the United
States argued that the Court should not allow an action for damages
under the Tucker Acts to proceed because the plaintiffs could have
brought a
separate “actio[n] for declaratory, injunctive, or
mandamus relief against the Secretary” in federal district court.
Id., at 227. This Court agreed with the government’s
assessment that the plaintiffs could have brought a claim like
that—even as it went on to hold that they were free to bring a
damages action under the Tucker Acts framework too.
Ibid.
Lower courts have appreciated all this as well.
As they have observed, nothing in the Tucker Acts or our decisions
applying them “impl[ies] that [Tribes] are not [separately]
entitled to declaratory or injunctive relief ” under other
laws or treaties and the traditional framework described above.
Cobell v.
Norton,
240 F.3d 1081, 1101 (CADC 2001); see also
Loudner v.
United States,
108 F.3d 896, 899 (CA8 1997). Consistent with this approach,
they have frequently allowed Tribes to bring freestanding claims
seeking to enforce treaty obligations—including water-related ones.
See,
e.g., Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe of Indians v.
Morton,
354 F. Supp. 252, 256 (DC 1973) (requiring the Secretary of the
Interior to “justify any diversion of water from the Tribe with
precision”); see also
Northwest Sea Farms, Inc. v.
United
States Army Corps of Engineers,
931 F. Supp. 1515, 1520 (WD Wash. 1996) (“In carrying out its
fiduciary duty, it is the government’s . . .
responsibility to ensure that Indian treaty rights are given full
effect”). The cases the Court relies on simply do not enter the
picture.
C
After misreading the Navajo’s request and
applying the wrong analytical framework, the Court errs in one last
way. It reaches the wrong result even under this Court’s Tucker
Acts framework. The second step of the analysis—using “trust
principles” to sort out the damages the United States owes,
Navajo II, 556 U. S., at 301—clearly has no purchase in
this context. (Another tell that the Tucker Acts framework itself
has no purchase.) But what about the first step? Historically, this
Court’s cases have distinguished between regulatory schemes that
create “bare trusts” (that cannot sustain actions for damages) and
a “conventional” trust (that can make the government “liable in
damages for breach” under the Tucker Acts).
White Mountain
Apache Tribe, 537 U. S., at 473–474; see
ante, at
9. A close look at those decisions suggests that, even under them,
the Tribe’s claim should be allowed to proceed.
Take
Mitchell II as an example. There,
this Court allowed a claim for money damages relating to the
mismanagement of tribal forests. On what basis? A patchwork of
statutes and regulations, along with some assorted representations
by the Department of the Interior. 463 U. S., at 219–224. In
holding this showing sufficient to support an action for money
damages, this Court observed that, “where the Federal Government
takes on or has control” of property belonging to a Tribe, the
necessary “fiduciary relationship normally exists . . .
even though nothing is said expressly” about “a trust or fiduciary
connection.”
Id., at 225 (internal quotation marks omitted).
Further, where the federal government has “full responsibility” to
manage a resource or “elaborate control” over that resource, the
requisite “fiduciary relationship
necessarily arises.”
Id., at 224–225 (emphasis added). Statements by the United
States “recogniz[ing]” a fiduciary duty, the Court explained, can
help confirm as much too.
Id., at 224.
Consider
White Mountain Apache Tribe as
well. There, this Court allowed a claim for money damages based on
the United States’ breach of its “fiduciary duty to manage land and
improvements” on a reservation. 537 U. S., at 468. The Tribe
defended the right to bring that claim by pointing to a statute
declaring certain lands would be “ ‘held by the United States
in trust’ ” for the Tribe and allowing the Secretary of the
Interior to use “ ‘any part’ ” of those lands “ ‘for
administrative or school purposes.’ ”
Id., at 469. In
holding that statute sufficient to support a claim for money
damages, this Court emphasized the United States exercised
authority over the assets at issue and had considerable
“discretionary authority” over their use.
Id., at 475.
Held even to these yardsticks, the Navajo’s
complaint easily measures up. Our
Winters decisions
recognize that the United States holds reserved water rights “[a]s
a
fiduciary” for the Tribes.
Arizona II, 460
U. S., at 627–628 (emphasis added). The United States’ control
over adjacent water sources—including the Colorado River—is
“elaborate.”
Mitchell II. 463 U. S., at 225; see also
Arizona I, 373 U. S., at 564–565;
White
Mountain Apache Tribe, 537 U. S., at 475. It can dole out
water in parts of the Colorado by contract. 43 U. S. C.
§617d. And, of course, the United States has expressly acknowledged
that it holds water rights “in trust” for the Navajo, see Brief for
Federal Parties 37; Tr. of Oral Arg. 40, perhaps including rights
in the Colorado River mainstream,
id., at 33. Given these
features, the Navajo’s complaint more than suffices to state a
claim for relief.
IV
Where do the Navajo go from here? To date,
their efforts to find out what water rights the United States holds
for them have produced an experience familiar to any American who
has spent time at the Department of Motor Vehicles. The Navajo have
waited patiently for someone, anyone, to help them, only to be told
(repeatedly) that they have been standing in the wrong line and
must try another. To this day, the United States has never denied
that the Navajo may have water rights in the mainstream of the
Colorado River (and perhaps elsewhere) that it holds in trust for
the Tribe. Instead, the government’s constant refrain is that the
Navajo can have all they ask for; they just need to go somewhere
else and do something else first.
The Navajo have tried it all. They have written
federal officials. They have moved this Court to clarify the United
States’ responsibilities when representing them. They have sought
to intervene directly in water-related litigation. And when all of
those efforts were rebuffed, they brought a claim seeking to compel
the United States to make good on its treaty obligations by
providing an accounting of what water rights it holds on their
behalf. At each turn, they have received the same answer: “Try
again.” When this routine first began in earnest, Elvis was still
making his rounds on The Ed Sullivan Show.
If there is any silver lining here it may be
this. While the Court finds the present complaint lacking because
it understands it as seeking “affirmative steps,” the Court does
not pass on other potential pleadings the Tribe might offer, such
as those alleging direct interference with their water rights.
Importantly, too, the Court recognizes that the Navajo “may be able
to assert the interests they claim in water rights litigation,
including by seeking to intervene in cases that affect their
claimed interests.”
Ante, at 12. After today, it is hard to
see how this Court (or any court) could ever again fairly deny a
request from the Navajo to intervene in litigation over the
Colorado River or other water sources to which they might have a
claim. Principles of estoppel, if nothing else, may have something
to say about the United States’ ability to oppose requests like
that moving forward. Cf.
United States v.
Louisiana,
394 U.S.
11, 73–74, n. 97 (1969). All of which leaves the Navajo in
a familiar spot. As they did at Bosque Redondo, they must again
fight for themselves to secure their homeland and all that must
necessarily come with it. Perhaps here, as there, some measure of
justice will prevail in the end.