Lucy Moore

Lucy Moore

Born and raised in Seattle, Lucy went east to attend Radcliffe College, where she experienced the first of many formative culture shocks. After graduating she worked for the Boston Welfare Department as a case worker and later as an assistant to Dr. Robert Coles, author and child psychiatrist. Both jobs taught her to listen and value the voices of those engaged in struggle and inspired her, to strike out and make a difference. She moved to Chinle, Arizona, heart of Navajo country, where her two sons were born. There she taught Headstart, sold car insurance (as an alternative to the exploitative practices of local dealers) and served as Justice of the Peace, registering hundreds of voters, holding trials and acting as coroner. In 1975 she moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where she served a brief time as Policy Aide for Indian Affairs for the Governor of New Mexico and worked as a paralegal, before joining the fledgling conflict resolution firm, Western Network. 
 
Since the late 1980s Lucy has worked as a mediator, facilitator, trainer and consultant, specializing in natural resource and public policy disputes. She continues to work, as Lucy Moore Associates, with a diverse group of colleagues on both regional and national cases, often with a multi-cultural or tribal component. She has a credibility and depth of experience in Indian country rare in conflict resolution practitioners. Lucy regularly mentors those who might otherwise not have access to her field, believing that the future health of the profession depends on its diversity and accessibility.
 
Lucy lives in Santa Fe with her artist husband. Her memoir Into the Canyon: Seven Years in Navajo Country, won Best Memoir from Women Writing the West in 2004. Lucy is a regular contributor to Backroads Radio, a program dedicated to original storytelling.

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A Slimy Kind of Strategy

Reposted with permission from Lucy Moore's blog. He was a well-dressed utility company executive in his early forties and he was walking in my direction. I had hoped for a little peace and quiet during my lunch break in the cafeteria, before the negotiation resumed and I would have to take up my mediator role again. But he was heading toward me, and he looked concerned. “Lucy? May I have a word with you, just briefly?” he asked. “Sure, have a seat,” and I motioned to the chair across from me.
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Ranching and the Categorical Imperative

When I was in grade school, my mother was a graduate student in philosophy, and I learned from her about the categorical imperative. What I grasped at that impressionable age was that if you are thinking about doing something, you should imagine that everyone around you, even everyone on earth, will do the same thing. Because if you have the right to do it, then, of course, so does everyone else. I immediately saw that I should not throw my gum wrapper out the car window. If everyone did that the air would be thick, the ground covered, with foil and paper.