Environmentalism from 1851

By Katherine Madden

I found this very profound and inspiring speech given by Seattle, Chief of the Suquamish (and other native Indian tribes around Washington's Puget Sound), in 1851. Although delivered in response to a proposed treaty to sell 2 million hectares of native American land for $150,000, this proclamation is as relevant today as when it was first written. These words have been referenced from Buckminster Fuller's legendary book Critical Path [Fuller, R.B.,1981], cataloguing the history behind the environmental problems of our present time and innovating solutions for the future.

"How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and· experience of my people. The sap, which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.

The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, the great eagle are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony and man-all belong to the same family.

So when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children.

So we will consider your offer to buy our land. But it will not be easy. For this land is sacred to us. This shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lake tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's fathers.

The rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember, and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.

We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger that comes in the night   and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's grave behind and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.

I do not know. Our ways are different from your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. There is no quiet place m the white man's cities. There no quiet in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of insect's wings. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond at night and the smell of the wind itself, cleansed by a midday rain or scented with pinon pine.

The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

Yje wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.

You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children that we have

taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

This we know: the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. All things are connected. We may be brothers after all. We shall see. One thing we know which the white man may one day discover: our God is the same God.

You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. This earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is

to heap contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.

But in your perishing you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land ·and over the red man.

That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tame, the secret corners. of the forest heavy with scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.

 

Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone.

The end of living and the beginning of survival."**

 

** Dr. Glenn T. Olds submitted Chief Seattle's speech at Alaska's Future Frontiers conference in 1979.

1 comment for “Environmentalism from 1851”

Bill Bunting
Posted Sunday, February 19, 2012 at 8:33:07 PM

Wow, the arrogant cynical manipulation is distressing to read..

"The Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children"

We know today how well that one worked out. And now they want to extract coal seam gas and shale oil from those lands, with the "promise" that there will be no effect to the groundwater.

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