Montana’s Tribal Voters Could Determine the Makeup of the Senate

In 1992, a pair of Montana Native American tribes passed an unusual resolution. The Confederated Salish and Kootenai tribes of the Flathead Indian Nation challenged the Blackfeet Nation to a competition: whichever tribe could muster the highest voter turnout in the upcoming election would win one single buffalo from the other.

The wagering tribes were also keeping their eye on an even bigger prize: The race for the U.S. House of Representatives in Montana that year was tight. And Native American voters had the opportunity to make a big difference.

“1992 will truly be the year that Montana discovers the Indian Vote,” read the resolution, passed unanimously by the Flathead tribal council and printed in the Char-KooSta News. The resolution added, importantly: “the Flathead Nation will not accept a road kill.”

In the end, Democrat Pat Williams, the favored candidate of the Blackfeet and Flathead, eked out a win over Ron Marlenee, the Republican candidate. Williams won by just over 14,000 votes — or about 3.5 percent — thanks in no small part to Native voters, who turned out in greater numbers than they had in 1990. As former Montana state senator and Native voting activist Carol Juneau remembers things, the Flathead ended up winning the bet — but she isn’t sure what happened to the buffalo.

Native Americans are always an important voting bloc in Montana, where they make up 6.5 percent of the population, per U.S. Census data. But this November, their involvement could potentially impact the entire nation.

Control of the Senate may hang on the outcome of the Montana Senate race, where Democratic Sen. Jon Tester is up for reelection in this reliably red state, likely facing off against Republican Tim Sheehy, whom former President Donald Trump has endorsed. Trump won Montana by nearly 17 percentage points in 2020, and Tester won by 3.5 percentage points — or nearly 18,000 votes — in 2018. Montana’s tribes comprise about five percent of the voting bloc, nearly twice the margin by which Tester won his last race.

Native voters are “hugely important to the Democratic base,” says Jim Messina, an Obama White House alum and former adviser to Tester with deep political roots in Montana. Tester ousted Republican Sen. Conrad Burns in 2006 in part by siphoning off some of Burns’ support among Native Americans. “Tester was able to cut into that bloc and really move them towards him,” Messina says.

Tribal leaders say Tester has a good track record of pushing policies that are important to Native Americans. As an example, they point to the Little Shell Tribe, which lobbied Congress for more than 150 years for federal recognition — crucial for tribal sovereignty and access to federal resources such as health care, education and economic development. But it wasn’t until 2019 that the tribe earned much-coveted federal recognition as part of the National Defense Authorization Act — thanks largely to Tester’s efforts, according to Tribal Chair Gerald Gray.

“He's been a real advocate, [a] friend of the tribe,” Gray says.

But the largest question looming over the Native American vote in 2024 will not be whom they vote for — rather, it will be if they show up to vote at all.

In Glacier County, home of the Blackfeet Nation — who make up two thirds of the county’s population, per census data — turnout grew from 34 percent in 2010 to 60 percent in 2018. Even though turnout is traditionally lower in midterm elections, it increased in Glacier for a decade — until 2022, when increases in voter turnout were reversed almost completely in the course of one election. While nearly every Montana county saw a decline in turnout between 2018 and 2022, the only counties where turnout went down more than 20 points were the majority-Native counties of Glacier and Blaine. Glacier County’s decline was nearly 8 points greater than majority-white Valley County, the county with the third-largest decline.

Restrictive voting laws, a dearth of fixed addresses, poor access to the internet, marathon driving distances in remote rural areas and general apathy all played a role in plummeting turnout among Native voters in 2022, advocates say.

“[Turnout is] not one issue. It's a combination of factors,” says He Who Rides His Horse East — known in Washington advocacy circles as Native American consultant and Blackfeet tribal member Tom Rodgers.

To rectify this, Montana Democrats are rolling out their largest-ever Native voting initiative, planning to invest more than $1 million over the next six months. That’s nearly double the $600,000 they had to target Native voters during the 2018 campaign. (The Montana GOP did not respond to multiple requests for an interview about their efforts to woo tribal voters.)

As a longtime advocate of Native Americans in politics, Blackfeet tribal member Michael DesRosier is a true believer in the power of the indigenous vote.

“We have the numbers,” the former Glacier County commissioner says as he sits in the county office, one brown cowboy boot-clad foot propped up on the other knee.

“That’s the quandary here: getting them out to vote.”

Browning, Mont., located in the heart of Glacier County, is a nearly six hour drive from Billings, the state’s largest city. My T-Mobile service was good for only about an hour of that drive, a common reality in rural America. As you drive west, the views transform from bright green fields dotted with behemoth harvesting combines to drier grasses and bleached wooden fences. The 5,600-person community of Browning is perched just east of the Rockies, dominated by Glacier National Park less than 30 minutes away — which is sacred land and a source of jobs and tourism for the Blackfeet.

U.S. Route 89 curves through Browning, which was disincorporated by the local government in 2017 due to financial troubles, the land sold to the Blackfeet. An espresso hut in the shape of a teepee sits at the curve, and trinket shops sell custom moccasins. At one end of the main road is the Glacier Peaks Hotel and Casino — a good place to find decent Wi-Fi. At the other end are government buildings and services: the community college, a building housing the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs and the small yellow Glacier County satellite office.

Like most tribes, the Blackfeet hold separate elections for tribal council and for county, state and federal offices. Unlike federal elections, tribal elections are typically held in June — and getting voters to show up for both is difficult. Many prioritize the tribal election, which some local voters say they believe will yield more immediate results in their day to day lives.

But when they do show up for non-tribal elections, Native voters in Montana can make a big difference. Two members of the three-person Glacier County commission are now Native, representing a county that is 65 percent Native American. And in 2012, greater voter turnout among the Blackfeet helped Democratic state Rep. Forrestina “Frosty” Calf Boss Ribs flip House District 15 back to blue. Republican Rep. Joe Read lost his seat in that election and now represents another district. Later in 2022, at a meeting with redistricting commissioners, Read said, “The politics of the game was that it became more competitive because of the Blackfeet Tribe.” (He admitted that he never campaigned on the reservation.)

Glacier County Commissioner Mary Jo Bremner — the county’s first female commissioner and a member of the Blackfeet tribe — hopes that the new county office in Browning will keep the Blackfeet in the game in 2024. The yellow building and the barn-sized garage next door were purchased with a $263,000 grant Glacier County received in 2020 from the Center for Tech and Civic Life, which will become the first dedicated voting location on Blackfeet land.

Like many counties in Montana, Glacier historically had one permanent location for early voting: in the town of Cut Bank, east of the reservation. Over time, temporary alternative voting locations and ballot drop-offs were set up around the county — which is nearly twice the size of Rhode Island — but they are only open select hours and days.

But in 2016, the majority-Native Glacier County government awarded Browning a satellite voting location, which is open throughout the early voting period and offers additional voting services like voter registration and ballot drop-off. Bremner believes having a dedicated place to vote on tribal land will give the Blackfeet more ownership over casting their vote in state and federal elections, and a sense that something positive comes from doing so.

“They could visually see, ‘I pay my taxes, and I have this. This is ours,’” Bremner says.

The Blackfeet tribe’s county office and voting space is a rarity in Montana. In most counties, the only full-time voting location is the county seat. And in nearly all counties, including Glacier, the seat was chosen before Native Americans had the right to vote. (Native Americans weren’t enfranchised until 1924, when Congress passed the Snyder Act — though many Native Americans still didn’t receive the right to vote until the 1965 Civil Rights Act.) In 1919, the county chose Cut Bank — a town outside the reservation’s borders — as its seat.

The decentralized location of Cut Bank means a tribal member living in Babb, up near the Montana-Canada border, would need to drive 140 miles round trip to cast their vote in Cut Bank — or work their schedule around a narrow window of alternative voting sites closer to home. The problem is similar around the state: It’s about 130 miles round trip from Lodge Pole on the Fort Belknap Reservation to vote in Chinook, the Blaine County seat. And it’s about 110 miles round trip from Aberdeen on the Crow Reservation to Hardin, the Big Horn County seat.

More than a decade ago, members of three Montana tribes sued the state over the long distances tribal members often must drive in order to vote — or even register to vote. In June 2014, individuals from the Crow, Northern Cheyenne and Fort Belknap tribes received a settlement in the landmark Wandering Medicine Case: The state promised to establish alternative registration and polling locations on reservation land in Blaine, Rosebud and Big Horn counties.

But Fort Belknap tribal President Jeffrery Stiffarm says they’ve had problems with Blaine County officials keeping voting sites open long enough. Meanwhile, Blaine County elections manager Savannah Wendeln insists the county is following the agreement they have with the Fort Belknap tribe.

Stiffarm says his tribe is prepared to sue the county if any roadblocks crop up.

On his way to a meeting of Montana tribal leaders, Chippewa Cree Tribe Vice-Chairman Ted Russette III made a quick stop to see Tester. “I was gonna buy some hay from him this morning,” Russette later recalls, but the senator wasn’t quite ready to make the sale. “He's got it all stacked up, ready to go,” Russette laughs. “I’ll get some from him.”

All politics is about relationships, but in a state like Montana, with just over 1 million people, politics can feel decidedly personal. Everybody seems to know each other.

Tester, a native son of Montana, grew up down the road from Rocky Boy’s Indian Reservation in the northern central part of the state. That experience shaped his firm belief that the U.S. government has a duty to honor its treaties with Native tribes. Today, if you ask Tester about Native American issues, he'll invite you to chat. But ask about Native American voters, and he’ll dodge the question.

Every voter is important in his election, he tells me when I run into him on Capitol Hill.

What about the $1 million his campaign invested in tribal turnout?

“That’s not my pay grade — I’m focused on policy,” Tester quips with a smile before hurrying into the Senate chamber.

Over the years, that focus on Native American policy has won Tester the support of Montana tribes, says Cinda Burd-Ironmaker, who leads the Tester campaign’s 2024 Native American voting initiative.

“The only true person that has helped Indian Country is Jon Tester,” says Burd-Ironmaker, a member of the Blackfeet tribe.

“We cannot start over right now. We cannot — because there's too much at stake.”

More than 30 percent of residents on the Blackfeet reservation live below the poverty line, according to U.S. Census Bureau data — compared to 12 percent of Montanans overall. Nearly 39 percent do not have healthcare, and the employment rate on the reservation hovers just below 50 percent.

Most Browning residents are skeptical of outsiders. But those who did stop to talk expressed mistrust in the system. Like Eddie Running Rabbit, 43, who says he knows the actions of lawmakers sometimes affect him, but he never votes.

“Honest answer: because everyone’s crooked,” he explains on his way into the local casino, a central meeting point in Browning at any time of day. “They all say lies.”

For Jeri Boggs, 42, the only time she’s voted outside of tribal elections was when Barack Obama was running for president in 2008 and 2012. She loved many things about Obama and decided to cast a vote for him, but didn’t vote for any other candidates — including Tester. When I ask if losing Tester from the Senate would make a difference, Boggs is clear: “It won’t.”

Adds another Blackfeet woman, who was granted anonymity to be honest about her non-voting history, “I watched my grandparents vote. And they've always disagreed with everything that happened, whether they voted or not.”

Fighting apathy takes an enormous amount of resources. That means finding funding for get out the vote programs and ad campaigns, for community events that help build momentum for Election Day and gas money for transporting voters. In Blackfeet country, DesRosier says, it’s popular to host community feeds, where voting groups or local party organizations set out trays of food, locals show up and candidates can give their stump pitch while everyone eats.

“Food brings the people on the reservation together better than anything,” DesRosier says. He recounts a time when a politician (probably Tester, but he isn’t sure) donated half a beef — worth approximately $2,000 — for a rally.

“Where there's been enough money … we've been nearly able to close that Native to white voting gap,” says Bret Healy, a consultant with Four Directions Native Votes, a multi-state nonprofit working on tribal turnout.

Three voting precincts in Montana’s Blaine County — which is about half Native and half white — illustrate this gap. Four Directions analyzed data on the portion of eligible voters in these two tracts who turned out to vote in the 2022 election. That year, turnout in two majority-Native tracts was 22 percentage points lower than in the majority-white tract. In addition, the decrease in Native turnout between 2020 and 2022 was higher than that of white voters, by five percentage points.

In other states like North Dakota and Arizona, Four Directions has worked to close the turnout gap between Native and white voters — with some successes. For example, through legal work and voter registration events, Four Directions registered more than 5,000 Native voters in Arizona in 2020 — nearly half of the 10,000 votes by which President Joe Biden won this key state. But to accomplish this, organizers have to overcome a lot of hurdles — including a lack of basic infrastructure that other communities take for granted.

“They don’t have the same internet access,” Healy says. Rural native voting precincts don’t have the same access to news about upcoming elections as rural white precincts, he explains. That poses challenges for everything from politicians campaigning to voters hunting for information about upcoming elections. For the Tester campaign, Burd-Ironmaker says, spotty internet and cellular service means that canvassers hitting up rural reservations can’t communicate with other groups canvassing in other parts of the county.

Tester’s political apparatus has long targeted Native voters. In 2018, the Tester campaign released ads with tribal leaders speaking in their own languages about why they were voting for Tester. The 2024 campaign plans to build on that type of advertising, and Native organizers around the state will host events and ensure candidates up and down the ballot show up to important functions like powwows and community feeds.

Tester’s presence on this ballot — and the outsize importance of Montana in the race for control of the Senate — means dollars are pouring into his campaign. As of April 2024, according to OpenSecrets, Tester has raised $32.6 million. By February, Tester had already raised the equivalent (after calculating inflation) of his campaign’s entire fundraising total in 2018, with many months left to raise more cash.

Some of that increase is being directed straight to Native voters through the Big Sky Initiative. But finding an issue that could motivate Montana’s tribes is crucial to increasing turnout in 2024, says Democratic state Sen. Susan Webber, who has worked alongside Western Native Voice on get out the vote events.

Medicaid access — “It’s life or death for us,” Burd-Ironmaker says — is a major issue Montana Native voters care about right now. Economic development on reservations, land/water rights and crime are other major issues, according to an August survey by the First Nations Development Institute. Murder and drug crimes are up on tribal land, while the sky-high rates of missing and murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) continues to be a key concern.

“If there was … a real platform or real issue that Native people could galvanize ... around, then I know they will get out and vote,” Webber says. “But right now, we just don't see that.”

In a beige Doubletree Hotel conference room in Billings, Tom Rodgers, the Native political strategist, is giving the state’s tribal leaders a simple message: Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) needs Senator Jon Tester to win in order for Democrats to remain in power. And Tester needs Native American votes to win Montana.

Leaders representing nearly a dozen tribes — including the Crow, Blackfeet and Cheyenne — sit listening over a classic Montana lunch of ribs, pulled pork, beans and potato salad.

With fervor, Rodgers implores the seated leaders to use the power of their vote in one of the country’s most competitive Senate races to get concessions from some of the nation’s most powerful people. The stakes, Rodgers explains, are too high for Democrats in Washington, D.C. to ignore what Montana’s Native voters want: Continued access to Medicaid and Medicare, assistance in fighting crime and resources to preserve their Native culture and language, among other things.

“The Native American vote is being courted very aggressively in the state,” Rodgers says later. “The path forward for the Republicans to take control of the Senate again looks like [it] would go through Montana.”

But Republicans in Washington, D.C. recognize how important Native Americans are to Tester’s chances — and they are not looking to give him any policy wins. In April 2023, a bipartisan package of bills led by Tester that included one to make VA home loans directly available for Native Americans failed to pass a procedural vote in the Senate, shocking many on the Hill. It passed out of the Senate Committee on Veterans’ Affairs unanimously, but a handful of GOP Senators — including some who previously supported it — voted against it on the floor.

And yes, if you ask, Republicans don’t beat around the bush on how the upcoming Montana Senate race impacted the way votes played out that day. Says Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas), “I don't think we need to talk about it. Everybody knows that.”

The bill’s demise highlights how important the Montana race is in the Senate, and the important role those communities are expected to play in elections.
“Native Americans … were the first casualty in this political battle,” says Rodgers, who supported the bill. Native Americans often feel neglected or overlooked by politicians, he says, and that has contributed to voter apathy.

So, in order to motivate voters in his state, Rodgers is resurrecting the bet of 1992. He’s currently in search of a bison bull — which he will award to the Montana tribe with the highest percentage voter turnout in the 2024 election.

“Honor the Iinii (the bison/the buffalo),” Rodgers says, “for as it returns now to our sacred land we can become whole again as a people and balance can be restored.”

The bison’s name? “Reckoning.”