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Doug Whiteman has the uncommon distinction in the NWT as having one of only two commercially-producing agriculture operations in the territory.

However, unlike the egg grading operation in Hay River, Whiteman has to compete with a federal subsidy when selling his product. It's a reality that is hurting the economic viability of his potato farm.

Whiteman was forced to drop the price of his Norman Wells-grown potatoes by 25 per cent when he learned the Nutrition North subsidy - which provides reduced shipping costs to Northern grocers - allowed stores to sell southern products for less than he could.

The problem is a conundrum. On one side there is a flawed, yet extremely important subsidy program that endeavours to make groceries affordable to Northerners who struggle with high food costs. On the other side, there is a business model that should be promoted and expanded in the NWT - growing local food crops to enhance food security and improve territorial employment.

The trick isn't deciding which of these two things is most important but, instead, figuring out how they can work side by side.

The NWT and the federal government should foster NWT-based agriculture by creating an economically-viable atmosphere and that means fixing the system so local farmers and producers are not competing with government subsidies on products grown elsewhere.

How can a vital government service go a decade without issuing a single report?

If it seems preposterous that the GNWT would not strive to keep tabs on programs designed to look after the safety and welfare of territorial families, that's because it is.

The Auditor General's report on the state of social services programs in the NWT points to a gross degree of negligence by the legislative assembly.

How could health ministers have missed this for 10 years? It's not like there weren't alarm bells.

Three reports -- including one conducted in 2010 by the legislative assembly itself -- iterated and reiterated the failures and concerns existing in the system.

Among those concerns were inadequate staffing levels, a lack of trust between residents and the department, cumbersome paperwork and a needed review of apprehension policies - 95 per cent of the 1,000 children in the system are aboriginal.

The latest report, issued 14 years after the first, criticized the government for its lack of action.

Fourteen years of inaction is an embarrassment. Regular reporting by the health authorities on the state of the system might have helped address concerns more quickly. However, the blame cannot be put on the authorities. The GNWT is responsible for ensuring policies and procedures are met. Missing an audit one year can be forgiven, missing them for 10 years means someone is not doing their job and that falls on the shoulders of each minister of health during that time period.

Furthermore, four health and social services authorities in the territory are under the power of a government administrator.

The GNWT fought long and hard to ratify its latest devolution deal assuring us it has the ability and expertise to handle more responsibility. The state of social services in the territory calls that assertion into question.

If our government cannot handle these important services, maybe it should ask Ottawa to re-assume the responsibilities. Running social services from afar might not be ideal, but it would be a lot better than what's going on right now.

The paperwork is all done and the shovels are going in the ground at Baffinland Iron Mines Corporation's Mary River iron ore mine this summer.

The approvals stage concluded when Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Minister Bernard Valcourt gave final approval for the revised project late last month. Not only did Valcourt give approval for iron ore to be mined, transported to port and shipped to foreign markets, he also lifted a restriction placed on the project by the Nunavut Impact Review Board, which restricted the amount of iron ore to be extracted from the site at 18 million tonnes per year.

Everything about this project is huge. The company is 50 per cent owned by ArcelorMittal, the world's leading integrated steel and mining company, with interests in 60 countries.

Originally intended to be a $4-billion initiative which included a railway and port at Steensby Inlet, about 150 km south of the mine site, the scaled-down project received approval calls for 3.5 million tonnes of ore to be shipped each year from a closer location at Milne Inlet, using ships that carry between 70,000 and 90,000 tonnes each.

Considering that Mary River has approximately 365 million tonnes of high-grade ore which does not require processing before being shipped, this is the beginning of many years of mining.

The potential economic benefit to Nunavut, and Inuit beneficiaries within the Qikiqtani Inuit Association in particular, is enormous. There are already 370 workers on site and, although the capital cost of the early revenue stage is $750 million instead of $4 billion, significant money is being spent, including the hiring of two Inuk elders to offer guidance and counselling to Inuit employees.

Shipments are expected to begin during next summer's open water season. And that's when the first measures of success will begin, particularly in relation to the revised plan to use Milne Inlet as a point of departure for the dozens of ships required to hit stated targets.

The Mary River project is bringing much-needed economic activity to north Baffin Island. We have no doubt that money from the project will benefit Baffin Island residents and the people of Nunavut.

However, there are outstanding environmental concerns that should not be ignored. Milne Inlet is an important narwhal calving ground and has been a site for caribou hunting for thousands of years, a tradition that has been carried on by Pond Inlet residents. There is also great concern for the project's impact on marine life in the Hudson Strait.

The measure of the mine's success in the future will not just be based on economics. It is up to Baffinland to ensure that the future livelihood of Pond Inlet residents and Inuit in general are protected as the project progresses.

Judging by the growing number of charges aimed at traditional hunting and gathering activities in recent months, it might not be unreasonable to assume the territorial government is celebrating devolution by taking potshots at treaty beneficiaries.

How else does one explain the recent charge against former Ndilo chief Fred Sangris for illegally harvesting wood? This follows a similar case where Barrett Lenoir, a member the Liidlii Kue First Nation in Fort Simpson was ticketed for transporting illegal wood, and fines levied at several Yellowknives hunters for harvesting caribou without tags.

Fining Dene hunters for illegally hunting caribou is a political landmine. But given the present circumstances, with barrenground caribou herds still far from recovery, it is the GNWT's responsibility to protect their dwindling numbers. Indeed, Environment Minister Michael Miltenberger was unequivocally granted the power after a tortuous, dozen-year gestation of the new Wildlife Act that finally passed through the legislative assembly last year.

There have been some unnecessary irritants, such as the alleged continued issuance of caribou tags bearing the signature of Dettah Chief Ed Sangris and the Yellowknives Dene logo - much to the band's displeasure - but reasonable people would agree that the caribou hunt can't continue as a free-for-all while their numbers remain low.

The tickets handed out for taking firewood without permits are another matter. Unlike caribou, the forests around Yellowknife are ubiquitous. There is no industry, and there is no danger treaty card holders in the area, doing what they've been doing since time immemorial, will be denuding the landscape for firewood anytime soon.

Why the GNWT wishes to roll the dice on a court case it is bound to lose will become a multi-million dollar question by the time the lawyers are through with it.

Lenoir eventually paid his fine but with Dene Nation Chief Bill Erasmus and current Ndilo Chief Ernest Betsina lining up behind him, there is every indication Sangris intends to go the distance.

Beyond that, the beehive Premier Bob McLeod has carefully constructed around his relationships with Dene leaders in the leadup to devolution is being pelted by rocks from renewable resource officers within his own government.

This hardly seems a worthwhile fight, and will likely only harm the territorial government's credibility with First Nations at great expense in time and money.

Erasmus said in court last month that the territorial government is simply flexing its muscles now that devolution has come into effect. McLeod and his government would be wise to prove him wrong.

Being in Repulse Bay for three days to officiate the Arctic Circle Cup hockey tournament this past month was a wonderful experience.

Although the tourney featured some decent hockey and a great final game, that wasn't what made my three days on the Bay so special.

It was the kids. And they were everywhere!

First, I was swarmed by a number of peewee-aged types who remembered me as a ref from the Powerful Peewees event earlier this year in Rankin Inlet.

Some of them simply wanted to say hello, while others couldn't help but wonder if I remembered them from the Rankin tourney.

And many were filled to the brim with questions about officiating.

Do you like it? Is it scary? How long have you been reffing?

The last one is always met with a collective, "whoa!" when I tell them.

And, my personal favourite, "are you the oldest referee in Nunavut?"

There's nothing like a little ego-deflator from the mouths of babes.

Then comes the group who start by asking my name.

I've always found it a little curious when a dozen kids surround me, and each one takes their cue from the first to ask my name.

It's like they're waiting for the answer to change.

Then, of course, they want to know where I'm from.

When I tell them Rankin, I'm immediately met with a kid's look of scepticism that anyone who's raised a child knows all too well.

That signals the start of what I like to think of as the challenge round of questioning.

Once convinced I am, in fact, from Rankin, and have lived here for a long time, the flood gates open and the inquisition begins in full force.

By the second day, a slowly growing number start asking my last name.

I still find it hilarious, listening to them trying to pronounce all five letters of it correctly.

When the last name questions start, I know some of the kids are starting to put two-and-two together.

With some, the name rings a bell of recognition that can only come from Dad, or another relative, singing my 'praises' as a referee after returning home from a tournament in Rankin.

Again, hilarious is the only word to describe the I-know-something-you-don't-know looks on their faces as they realize they've just come face-to-face with the object of their relative's 'affection.'

The other group swings in a different direction after learning my last name.

They delegate the bravest amongst them to ask if I'm the Kivalliq News guy.

Once convinced I am, I spend the next 10 minutes in old (well, not that old) writer's heaven, as they diligently report the name of every friend and family member who has appeared in the newspaper.

It is, without a doubt, the warmest feeling I've ever had as a writer-journalist.

Some tournaments, of course, go off the rails and become so intense it makes it difficult to enjoy the kids the same way at the arena.

Thankfully, they are few and far between.

The rest of the time, being with the kids makes me remember while hockey is the best game on the planet, children will always be our greatest treasure.

To the hundreds of kids I met in Repulse this past month: thanks for the reminder!

Aboriginal governments are often stuck in a situation of planning for and wanting one thing, but only having the money for something different.

As funding to First Nations decreases they are more and more often having to make compromises in different areas and make do with less while reducing the services and programming they offer. The recent transfer of responsibility for aboriginal language revitalization from the Department of Education, Culture and Employment (ECE) to aboriginal governments is a slightly complicated case in point.

There is no denying there is excitement around the new reality of aboriginal governments in the NWT being responsible for their languages. The department made the change because time and time again they heard that aboriginal languages are best strengthened and managed by aboriginal people themselves.

Participants in Dehcho First Nations' recent meeting about how to implement the region's five-year aboriginal language plan and manage the new responsibility showed optimism about the possibilities.

The new system comes with a multi-year funding agreement that is designed to allow for longer-term planning. But while ECE says the agreement has given aboriginal governments control over more funding than was allotted in the past, there wasn't enough to give each group 100 per cent of what they asked for. The department is working to get more funding from the federal government, but there are no guarantees.

So what are aboriginal governments like DFN left to do? Make compromises and find cost savings wherever possible.

Aboriginal language revitalization is critical work. Languages like Dene Zhatie are not as strong as they once were and are fading further in many communities.

DFN would undoubtedly like unlimited funding for this important work, but that's not realistic. It will be interesting to see what programs Deh Cho communities develop to support Dene Zhatie language and literacy and how the pot of funding will be divided between them. There are already plans for communities to share resources and for a regional language co-ordinator to assist the smaller communities that have fewer resources and less funding.

Taking control of language revitalization is an exciting opportunity for the region, but also a challenge with the limited funding. Hopefully some meaningful work will still be able to be done to promote the language.

As the last couple of weekends showed us, as the midnight sun creeps closer, so do bouts of vandalism.

Patricia Davison, executive director of the Children's First Centre, said last week it's unlikely the two incidents of vandalism at the child care centre are specifically aimed at the facility.

Rather, the vandalism and mischief is the start of something that sprouts like willows with the warm weather and long days.

There are many arguments as to why it happens through the summer. Boredom and lack of supervision are one constant refrain, as people point their fingers at Inuvik's youth.

That's why the calls for a new curfew bylaw will soon resurface. A little more than a year ago, Inuvik town council members revoked the curfew bylaw that hadn't been enforced in several years.

Their rationale was that it was "unenforceable" and possibly unconstitutional.

While there's little doubt that the youth demographic is responsible for some of the public nuisances this time of year, I doubt it can be blamed for everything.

Many laws are unenforceable when there is no political will to enforce them.

A better argument can be made for unconstitutionality. Councillor Alana Mero has been one of the chief advocates for the notion that a curfew is unconstitutional, and she might well be correct in her opinion. However, it appears as if a legal precedent establishing that has never been clearly set in Canada.

The idea of a curfew resonates with the public because it's a seen as simple, common-sense solution to the problem. While it's a potentially useful tool, it also comes with certain difficulties and there's an argument to be made on its effectiveness.

If it's not the youth, say under age 16 or 18 who are the real culprits, how is a curfew going to help? The answer is that it won't.

The public nuisance, mischief and vandalism problems are too complex to be solved by anything less than a comprehensive strategy. It's certainly not going to be solved by the public clamouring for the easy solution, which is a curfew, or by public officials dodging that issue by invoking the "unenforceable" clause.

At some point, the town as a whole is going to have to come together and find a common solution.

It's time for that dialogue, and a more objective view of the topic, to begin.

Last week, the Yellowknives Dene First Nation raised a pertinent question: who is inspecting Giant Mine now that federal mine inspectors have devolved to the territorial government?

The fact that the Yellowknives have been asking the federal government - which remains responsible for cleanup at Giant mine - for an answer for the past six months to no avail is shameful in and of itself. The fact that Ottawa is still unable to give Yellowknifer an answer to that question more than a week after making our own inquiries only proves that providing the answers is not a priority for this government.

Dettah Chief Ed Sangris has said he is skeptical that a bureaucrat sitting in an office in Gatineau, Que., can properly appreciate the realities and dangers that come with the spring melt at Giant, when Baker Creek resumes its flow through the mine site to Great Slave Lake. There is nothing unfair about that assessment.

For now, Yellowknifer can only speculate that this can all be chalked up to post-devolution confusion. However, if a lack of federal resources truly is to blame, why not contract out Giant Mine inspections to the territorial government - who now employ the same people who used to do the job for the feds - until a permanent solution can be found?

Jurisdictional confusion may be somewhat acceptable when it comes to houseboats, shacks and cabins, but it is plain unacceptable when it comes to Giant Mine and the 237,000 tonnes of arsenic trioxide buried at the people's backdoor.

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