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Most people would prefer their mistakes kept quiet, but that's not always possible - or advisable - when those mistakes affect others.

For the Yellowknives Dene First Nation band membership, mistakes made by their band council may have cost them millions of dollars.

Already, the band is out a year's salary for former Ndilo chief Ted Tsetta after Federal Court judge Yves de Montigny ruled the Yellowknives band council was wrong to fire him in 2012. Tsetta was pushed out of his elected position after he called for a forensic audit into band finances when it was revealed that some $500,000 from the Yellowknives-owned Det'on Cho Diamonds had gone missing.

"Chief Tsetta's claims are not totally unsubstantiated and deserve at the very least to be investigated," wrote de Montigny in his decision.

"It would clearly have been preferable to have these matters openly debated and resolved within the confines of band council meetings, but that was apparently not an option due to internal infighting and conflict among band council members."

Two years later, the Yellowknives Dene First Nation is no closer to the truth than it was when the band council sent Tsetta packing after first smearing him for spreading "false information."

Which is odd because it was the band council itself that approved funding of up to $100,000 the previous year to investigate the Det'on Diamonds mess.

Tsetta's greatest fault appears to have been that he went public with his complaint.

The band council may claim their books are open to band members, as Tsetta's successor, Roy Erasmus Sr. said while bashing the Conservative government's First Nation Transparency Act in 2012, but band member Henry Beaulieu says that's just not the case.

"Everything in the First Nation financial budget is in-camera," he told Yellowknifer, adding he also cannot access internal audits.

All of this raises troubling questions for membership, who cannot be sure their financial resources are being appropriately managed.

A missing $500,000 is not something that should be swept under the rug, forgotten about or simply forgiven without a serious and open discussion. It's a significant sum of money that could have gone toward any number of worthy efforts but instead it's gone as though it never existed.

The band council will only continue to lose credibility with band members by failing to acknowledge the allegations against their leadership.

Yellowknife residents would never stand for a half-million dollars gone missing from city hall, nor efforts to silence those who try to shed light on the situation. Yellowknives Dene band members should not be expected to accept that either.

It's been interesting to listen to a couple of diametrically-opposed viewpoints concerning the return of a lottery terminal in Rankin Inlet.

One, which is to be expected in such a situation, emanates from the clergy and some of those on the frontlines of battling social ills.

To these well-meaning folks, life went on very well in the community when access to lottery tickets was removed years ago, thank you very much, and they see no reason for a local retailer to have brought them back.

Some see money spent on lottery tickets -- whether its the national draws for millions or scratch tickets promising almost as much -- as money taken away from families in Rankin Inlet.

And those of this mindset have a point to be considered, even if it is a tad on the paternal side for many to be comfortable with.

The problem is, the vast majority of folks in Rankin Inlet are quite capable of playing the lottery within their financial means.

And, there really was no shortage of pull tickets available during the lottery's absence, as the often shin-high pile of Nevada tickets at the arena will attest to every night a bingo game is played.

So, looking at the return of the lottery booth as fuelling social decay really is a bit of a stretch.

The second voice, although stretching the laws of probability almost as far, has a somewhat disturbing logic to it.

These folks aren't crazy about the lottery's return because, eventually, they see it opening the door to terminals at other locations, or gaming of different kinds finding their way into Rankin.

And they're not overly concerned about this hypothetical influx of gaming taking food from a baby's mouth.

They're concerned about it, one day, eating great chunks of local bingo revenues.

Bingo, as we know, is a true Catch-22 in the North.

We all see, from time to time, a neighbour spending more money on bingo then they can honestly afford.

Yet bingo is also our number-one fundraiser.

It's a moral dilemma many good people in our community continue to struggle with when their organizations are using bingo as a fundraiser.

The fresh angle now, having a few chins rubbed over, is that the vast majority of bingo proceeds stay in our community and help many of our organizations and sports teams in a number of ways.

Conversely, money spent at the lottery booth just goes away when it comes to those of us who call the North home.

While I first guffawed at the notion, I must admit, after further consideration, I now see it as a totally valid point.

That is, taking for granted the day were to ever arrive when increased lottery terminals or other gaming ventures actually were taking a big slice out of the bingo pie.

In many respects, like it or not, it truly is the lesser of two evils.

But, all things considered, if $25,000 is to be gambled away in Rankin on a Friday night, I'd much rather see most of it go toward helping our community organizations, or aiding our youth in attending a sporting or academic event.

While gambling of any sort never comes without risk, given the two choices, I'd have to call this one under the

'N' for no-brainer.

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.

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.

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.

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