Читать книгу Lost Worlds of 1863 - W. Dirk Raat - Страница 13

With the exception of the Prologue, the subject matter is organized around several case studies in which the narrative is developed from early historical times through the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Following the Prologue, the first chapter focuses on the topic of Indian slavery and Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation of 1863. The subject of Indian slavery is not simply a digression, but part of the argument that the so-called “Great Emancipator” paid no heed to the problem of “de facto” Indian slavery and as such one more reminder of his lack of empathy for the Indian people. This chapter introduces the reader to the general environment of the Civil War era in which Lincoln’s lack of an Indian policy led to the precedents of relocating Indian people from Minnesota to the Missouri country, and depended upon the military to enforce the removal plans. Preoccupied with restoring the Union, Lincoln did little to control the western volunteers’ anti-Indian zeal. His main concern was to create treaties so that land could be acquired by and for the advancing white frontier. After the Minnesota relocation the Numa or Paiutes were removed from the Owens Valley, the Navajo from Arizona, and the Mescalero relocated to Bosque Redondo. The massacres at Bear River and Sand Creek were the unintended results of a policy designed to wrestle land and resources from the Indian people.

After the Lincoln introduction, the following chapters treat of the Owens and Northern Paiute, the Great Basin Shoshones, Southern Paiutes, and Colorado Utes, the Navajo, Apache, Yavapai, and O’odham, and finally the Northwestern Shoshone and Yaqui experiences. I have included four shorter sub-chapters or mini-chapters after some of the chapters. These were originally to be called cross-bars but they went too long. Called “commentaries,” all treat of a theme presented in the previous chapter, while the commentary on “Mormons and Lamanites” reflects themes found in several chapters.

These case studies and “commentaries” are not all-inclusive, and do not detail the numerous examples of indigenous groups in the Greater Southwest, such as the Cheyenne and Arapaho of Colorado, various Pueblo groups in New Mexico, the western Comanche, or a variety of California Indians, and others.

The chapter on the Bear River Massacre could easily been included in Part One since Cache Valley, Utah and Preston, Idaho would fit the geographical description of “the Far West.” So too could the chapter on the Yaqui deportation be included in Part Two under “The Arizona and New Mexico–Sonoran Experience.” They were placed in a separate section under Part Three because of the extent of the violence that was associated with each event. And because the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 is generally well known to most readers, it does not receive special attention here. It was, in fact, partly the result of a precursor event less well known as the Bear River Massacre of 1863.

In the Prologue I develop an overview, including a global dimension, on the phenomenon of relocation and removal. The Epilogue not only summarizes the content, explaining the major examples of relocation and removal, but also several sub-themes as well. It also has something to say about current and future happenings, especially on the topic of survival. Since, apart from the introductory material, the subject matter is organized spatially around individual case studies, the reader is cautioned about seeking a chronological narrative. Instead, the reader is encouraged to seek out those case studies of interest and read them as separate episodes. The Prologue and Epilogue attempt to develop the interrelationships and similarities between the various chapters and provide some unity.

Another forewarning, each case study has an extensive history of the pre-contact, Spanish, and Mexican worlds that created the context for the events of 1863. My focus on ceremonial rites and Indian belief systems was developed so as to illustrate the relationship between sacred landscapes and personal identity. Relocation not only removed the people from the land, but the land from the people and by so doing robbed these people of their identity.

As for usage, the common misunderstanding of today’s non-Indian community is that these indigenous peoples prefer to be called Native American rather than American Indian. In an informal 2005 survey conducted by Wendy Weston, Navajo, Director of American Indian Relations at the Heard Museum, of several indigenous peoples, when asked: “As a Native person, what term do you prefer to be identified by?,” most respondents preferred to be identified as American Indian and/or their specific tribal affiliation. As the respondents said, “Native” or “Native American” is a term “which anyone born in the US has the right to be called.”³ Although, as cultural theorist Gerald Vizenor reminds us, while “Indian” is an invented name that does not come from any native language, “Native American” at least distinguishes native inhabitants in the Americas from the people of India.⁴

As for other options, “indigenous” might be confused with an indigent state of poverty. Referring to Hopi and Zuni ancestors, this writer has trouble saying “Ancient Pueblo” in lieu of Anasazi, since the word “Pueblo” is Spanish and not Indian, and it substitutes a perfectly good Navajo word for “old enemy” and replaces it with an idea of questionable ancestry. Some words, like “Tarahumara” and “Rarámuri” are derived from the same word “Talahumali,” and are used interchangeably.

Because of these problems I have contented myself by using most words in place of each other. All of the words require qualifications, and no one term can be used in any and all occasions. Be prepared to read about indigenous peoples, Spanish terms like Navajo, or Navajo tribal terms like Diné, translations of terminology like “The People” or “Two Village People,” Natives, North American Indians, Amerinds, First Nations, Native Americans, indios, and just simply Indians. No one said it was going to be easy.

As for spelling, I have preferred to spell “Shoshone” with an “e,” not an “i” (Shoshoni), although several sources spell it “Shoshoni.” Again, I spell “Paiute” with an “a,” although some writers prefer “Piute.”

The word “settler” usually refers to whites. However, it should be remembered that often times the Indian was the settler who was confronted by unsettled invaders. This was true in the early times when Hernando Cortés and his Indian allies conquered Tenochtitlán, an Aztec city of 250,000 to 300,000 urbanites, as well as in the nineteenth century when Mormons encroached upon the Northwestern Shoshone settlers of the Cache Valley of Northern Utah.

The word “slavery” can cause consternation in some quarters. Although I use the term throughout the book, it might be more accurate to speak of “de facto slavery,” a form of bondage that whatever it is called is in fact “slavery.” The word implies the ownership of a person or persons by another or others. That ownership comes from outright purchase or exchange of goods for a person, or acquisition of another through kidnapping or violence. Synonyms include “servitude,” “bondage,” and “indenture,” while slaves were often called “servants” or “peons.” Historian Andrés Reséndez, in his book on Indian enslavement in the Americas calls this type of “de facto slavery,” which is a form of bondage and involuntary servitude, The Other Slavery.

Whatever the arrangement is called, “de facto slavery” was a form of coercion that was often accompanied by sexual and economic exploitation of the enslaved person. The brutal actions of enslaving were often an adjunct to violence in the form of warfare, rape, homicide, massacre, mutilation and removal or deportation.

In early colonial days Englishmen made war captives out of the Indians of the southeastern parts of the United States and forcibly sent them through the port of Charleston to slavery in the plantations of the West Indies. Between 1770 and 1810, Spanish soldiers escorted three thousand Apache “prisoners-of-war” to Mexico City. Women and children became domestics in central Mexico, while the Apache men were sent to work the fields and ports of Cuba. By the nineteenth century Mexican slave traders were busy kidnapping Navajo women and children to serve as domestics and laborers in the fields and homes of New Mexico. A similar situation occurred in California. Slavery or “servitude” was justified on the grounds that the uncivilized savages were having their souls saved by the actions of Christian overseers.

As for the use of the words “genocide” and “holocaust,” because of the volatility of these words I have use them sparingly. In some instances, where extermination was not the object but land acquisition was, “ethnic cleansing” may be the preferred phrase. This study follows the definitions of genocide of the Proposed Convention on Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (1997) intended to supersede the United Nations Convention of 1948. Genocide, by these definitions, may be threefold: Physical (deliberate and direct or indirect killing of a specific ethnic or racial group); Biological (including sterilization and psychological conditions leading to birthrate declines and increased rates of infant mortality); and Cultural (eradication of the mores, habits, traditions, and languages of a specific group).

Obviously, under these definitions genocide has a long history in Asia and America in addition to and outside of Europe and Nazi Germany. According to James W. Loewen, author of Lies My Teacher Told Me, “Hitler admired our concentration camps for American Indians in the west and according to John Toland, his [Hitler’s] biographer, [Hitler] ‘often praised to his inner circle the efficiency of American extermination—by starvation and uneven combat as the model for his extermination of Jews and Gypsies’.”⁵ In 1928 Hitler approvingly noted that white settlers in America had “gunned down millions of redskins” and had America in mind when he spoke of “living space” or Lebensraum in Eastern Europe.⁶

Genocide is a form of violence that involves killing. Battles and massacres are not necessarily genocidal events unless the battle is transformed into a massacre and the intentional killing evolves into a pattern targeting a particular ethnic, racial, or religious group. But genocide of the American Indian is part of the historical record, and as my dear friend and colleague from Fredonia State University, the late historian William T. Hagan, asserted, “Genocide is a term of awful significance, but one which has application to the story of California’s Native Americans” (and, I may add, the indigenous population of parts of the Greater Southwest in general).⁷

In June of 2020 the “Black Lives Matter” movement included a few marchers holding “Indigenous Lives Matter” signs. The demonstrators, in support of the Black Lives protestors, reminded the nation that while Native Americans consist of only 0.8% of the population, they experience 1.9% of police killings (data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention between 1999 and 2011).

At the same time in St. Paul, Minnesota a statute of Christopher Columbus was brought down by protestors. Columbus, whose legacy for indigenous America was one of slavery and genocide, was removed from the public sphere. As cultural theorist Gerald Vizenor states, “Columbus and his civilization would discover no salvation in the New World. The missions, exploitations, racial vengeance, and colonization ended the praise of deliverance; the conquistadors buried the tribal healers and their stories in their blood.”⁸

Brendan Lindsay has noted in his book Murder State that “When one considers the actions of the press, state and federal governments, and the citizenry as a whole, the result was the creation of an inescapable system of democratically imposed genocide … devised to fulfill the demands of the newly minted citizenry of California.”⁹ Larissa Behrendt continued this theme by arguing that indigenous people’s claims of state-sanctioned genocide are still being defeated by legal traditions that reflect a legacy of colonialism and violence.¹⁰

Under these definitions and usages the California massacres, the Bear River Massacre, the Sand Creek Massacre, the Yaqui deportations, and the events at Wounded Knee would be described as “genocidal,” while the removal of Paiutes, Navajos, Mescaleros, Chiricahua Apaches, and Yavapai would be “ethnic cleansing.” Certain writers, like David E. Stannard (see below), or some of those cited above, may not agree with this distinction. As Stannard and others have noted, most white Americans thought in terms of expulsion or extermination, and they were not necessarily mutually exclusive options. Some forced marches were literally “death marches.” The early years of the Indian Boarding School experiment might be called an attempt at “cultural genocide.”

As for “holocaust,” the word was used generally in English to denote devastation and massacres. Since 1945 most scholars, with the exception of David E. Stannard, use it to refer specifically to the Nazi genocide of Jews and others. Stannard, in his excellent and comprehensive study of the extermination of American Indians, speaks freely of an American Holocaust. Stannard’s holocaust included the interdependent forces of disease and genocide (including slavery and racism) that brought a deadly end to the lives of nineteen out of twenty Indians between 1492 and the end of the nineteenth century.¹¹

“Holocaust” is used in “Lost Worlds” in the generic sense to refer to the massacre and devastation of American Indians by non-Indians. Whether the word(s) or phrase is “holocaust,” “genocide,” “war crimes,” or “ethnic cleansing,” all would be considered criminal actions today. These and related matters will be discussed further in the Epilogue.

As dark as these themes are, it should be remembered that the indigenous peoples survived these episodes and are active today. One aspect of that survival is the current state of Indian “fine arts,” and artist Alan Houser, among others, represents that survival instinct of the Native American. The holdings of the Heard Museum in downtown Phoenix, Arizona, reflect that side of the story.

Another recent change is the confirmation of Rep. Deb Haaland (Democrat/N.M.) to become secretary of the Department of Interior by President Joe Biden on March 15, 2021. The Department of Interior includes the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Haaland is a member of the Laguna Pueblo, one of the nineteen Pueblo communities in New Mexico. She is the first Native American to hold such a position. In a country in which the median income of on- and off-reservation Indians is $40,315 (between 2013–2017), compared to $66,943 for all Americans, Haaland is in a position to restore tribal sovereignty, renew reservation economies, improve conservation, and move the country’s Native Americans away from dependency to independence.¹²

This work, therefore, is a tribute to those few tribes that inhabit the Greater Southwest. In 2016 there were 566 federally recognized tribes in the United States. State recognized tribes amount to 130. California tribes or rancherías number 108. Arizona has 22 federally recognized Indian communities. While the total indigenous population residing on the reservations may be close to 2.9 million (with another 3 plus million off the reservation), and even though part of their land and identities has been restored, only 2% of the topography of the United States is Indian Country today. The narrative of this work is primarily focused on that time when close to 100% of the terrain of the Southwest was Indian Country (see map, Figure 0-1). The colonizer’s “holocaust” changed all of this by creating the “Lost Worlds of 1863.”

Figure 0-1 The Progression of Land Loss. Reconfiguration by Geraldine Raat of information found in Peter Nabokov’s “The Closing In” in Part Four of Native Americans: An Illustrated History (Atlanta: Turner Publishing Inc., 1993), p. 369.

(Central Rockies and Great Basin).

Surprise, Arizona