Friday, November 08, 2024

How Native Americans Guarded Their Societies Against Tyranny


 November 8, 2024
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Tsagiglalal, or “She Who Watches,” pictograph in the Columbia River Gorge. Photo: Jeffrey St. Clair.

When the founders of the United States designed the Constitution, they were learning from history that democracy was likely to fail – to find someone who would fool the people into giving him complete power and then end the democracy.

They designed checks and balances to guard against the accumulation of power they had found when studying ancient Greece and Rome. But there were others in North America who had also seen the dangers of certain types of government and had designed their own checks and balances to guard against tyranny: the Native Americans.

Although most Americans today don’t know it, there were large centralized civilizations across much of North America in the 10th through 12th centuries. They built massive cities and grand irrigation projects across the continent. Twelfth-century Cahokia, on the banks of the Mississippi River, had a central city about the size of London at the time. The sprawling 12th-century civilization of the Huhugam had several cities of more than 10,000 people and a total population of perhaps 50,000 in the Southwestern desert.

A painting shows people erecting wooden and thatch buildings against a backdrop of massive flat-topped mounds.
An artist’s depiction of life in Cahokia.
Michael Hampshire for the Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site via Wikimedia CommonsCC BY-SA

The ruins of these constructions remain, more than 1,000 years later, in places as far-flung as PhoenixSt. Louis and north Georgia.

The American Colonists and founders thought Native American societies were simple and primitive – but they were not. As research has found, including my own, and as I explain in my book, “Native Nations: A Millennium in North America,” Native American communities were elaborate consensus democracies, many of which had survived for generations because of careful attention to checking and balancing power.

Powerful rulers led many of these civilizations, combining political and religious power, much as monarchs of Europe in later centuries would claim a divine right to rule.

In the 13th century, though, a global cooling trend began, which has been called the Little Ice Age. In part because of that cooling, large-scale farming became more difficult, and these large civilizations struggled to feed their people. Elites began hoarding wealth. The people wanted change.

A massive adobe structure.
Casa Grande, an adobe castle that was home to the rulers of the Huhugam, as seen in 1892. photoCL 215 (112), Huntington Library

Spreading out

The residents of North America’s great cities responded to these stresses by reversing the centralization of power and wealth. Some revolted against their leaders. Others simply left the cities and spread out into smaller towns and farms. All across the continent, they built smaller, more democratic and more egalitarian societies.

Huge numbers left Cahokia’s realm entirely. They found places that still had game to hunt and woods full of trees for firewood and building, both of which had declined near Cahokia due to its rapid growth.

The population of the central city of Cahokia fell from perhaps 20,000 people to only 3,000 by 1275. At some point the elite left as well, and by the late 15th century the cities of Cahokia’s realm were completely gone.

Encouraging engaged democracy

As they formed these new and more dispersed societies, the people who had overthrown or fled the great cities and their too powerful leaders sought to avoid mesmerizing leaders who made tempting promises in difficult times. So they designed complex political structures to discourage centralization, hierarchy and inequality and encourage shared decision-making.

These societies intentionally created balanced power structures. For example, the oral history of the Osage Nation records that it once had one great chief who was a military leader, but its council of elder spiritual leaders, known as the “Little Old Men,” decided to balance that chief’s authority with that of another hereditary chief, who would be responsible for keeping peace.

Another way some societies balanced power was through family-based clans. Clans communicated and cooperated across multiple towns. They could work together to balance the power of town-based chiefs and councils.

An ideal of leadership

Many of these societies required convening all of the people – men, women and children – for major political, military, diplomatic and land-use decisions. Hundreds or even thousands might show up, depending on how momentous the decision was.

They strove for consensus, though they didn’t always achieve it. In some societies, it was customary for the losing side to quietly leave the meeting if they couldn’t bring themselves to agree with the others.

Leaders generally governed by facilitating decision-making in council meetings and public gatherings. They gave gifts to encourage cooperation. They heard disputes between neighbors over land and resources and helped to resolve them. Power and prestige came to lie not in amassing wealth but in assuring that the wealth was shared wisely. Leaders earned support in part by being good providers.

‘Calm deliberation’

The Native American democracy that the U.S. founders were most likely to know about was the Iroquois Confederacy. They call themselves the Haudenosaunee, the “people of the longhouse,” because the nations of the confederacy have to get along like multiple families in a longhouse.

In their carefully balanced system, women ran the clans, which were responsible for local decisions about land use and town planning. Men were the representatives of their clans and nations in the Haudenosaunee council, which made decisions for the confederacy as a whole. Each council member, called a royaner, was chosen by a clan mother.

The Haudenosaunee Great Law holds a royaner to a high standard: “The thickness of their skin shall be seven spans – which is to say that they shall be proof against anger, offensive actions and criticism. Their hearts shall be full of peace and good will.” In council, “all their words and actions shall be marked by calm deliberation.”

The law said the ideal royaner should always “look and listen for the welfare of the whole people and have always in view not only the present but also the coming generations, even those whose faces are yet beneath the surface of the ground – the unborn of the future Nation.”

Of course, people do not always live up to their values, but the laws and traditions of Native nations encouraged peaceful discussion and broad-mindedness. Many Europeans were struck by the difference. The French explorer La Salle in 1678 noted with admiration of the Haudenosaunee that “in important meetings, they discuss without raising their voices and without getting angry.”

Politicians, government officials and everyday Americans might find inspiration in the models of democracy created by Native Americans centuries ago. There was an additional ingredient to the political and social balance: Leaders looked ahead and sought to protect the well-being of every person, even those not yet born. The people, in exchange, had a responsibility to not enmesh their royaners in less serious matters, which the Haudenosaunee Great Law called “trivial affairs.”The Conversation

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Kathleen DuVal is Professor of History at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.


LA REVUE GAUCHE - Left Comment: Native America and the Evolution of Democracy


Race, Class, and Inequality: A New Study


 November 8, 2024
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Image by Jon Tyson.

In a recent op-ed, Lydia Polgreen said that if Kamala Harris is labeled as a DEI candidate, then J. D. Vance must be as well. She supports this with research from a Tufts University scholar who claims that elite schools, like Yale, where Mr. Vance graduated law school, give extra attention and resources to poor white students to help them succeed. In other words, Affirmative Action effectively applies to those suffering deficits in terms of class. There’s no question that colleges and universities support poor students. But, of course, they first must survive the competitive process for admission. And once in the institution, the white students can’t get DEI protected status, according to an administrator at the University of California, Irvine. It doesn’t protect students who suffer damages from exclusion and who do not fit into one of the racial categories. The “equity” component doesn’t include the category of class, despite claims to the contrary in the popular press.

But it should in these times when ever more wealth is concentrated at the top and at the expense of the working class—when the inequality gap keeps widening. Skin color trumps class for those from racial and ethnic groups who are already protected. But factoring class into the Affirmative Action guidelines will provide even stronger protection for those of color who are also class deprived.

A recent Harvard University study investigated the relation between race and class. It targeted fifty-seven million subjects across the Gen X and Gen Y (Millennial) generations, those born in the late 1970s and those born in the early 1990s, comparing low-income black and white populations. In the white population, it found, the Gen Y group had suffered a decline in income in relation to the Gen X group. In the black population, however, these results were reversed. For the aggregate low-income population, whites suffered a decline of $2050 in income, and blacks accrued a $1420 increase in income across this generational stretch. Over one generation, the black-white racial income gap narrowed. Admittedly, these are not exactly striking figures. But whites have outpaced blacks economically for generations prior to the period covered in this study. And these results preceded the spike in “woke” that occurred in 2020 in the aftermath of the George Floyd killing, the top-down cultural revolution that has blossomed in lock step with the Biden administration’s tenure.

The conclusion: “Between two generations, Americans’ ability to break into the middle class has changed. Race has come to play a smaller role in upward mobility while economic class plays a larger role.”

But it’s also true, according to German Lopez and Ashley Wu, who evaluated the study, that “people’s lives aren’t guided by immutable facts like class and race.” In other words, success also depends on the quality of the community the individual grows up in, the status of the family, the availability of work, social networks, the effectiveness of the school system, the presence of nice parks, the absence of crime, etc. The more of these there are in a community, the more positive sentiments there will be about the chance to succeed. And fates are intertwined: success breeds success. These have always disproportionately benefited the white population. But this is changing as well. The study found that the presence of these factors for low-income blacks contributed to their success, while their relative absence for low-income whites inhibited theirs. The greater incidence of these factors in black communities was the result of pockets of improvement in social, economic, and everyday life over the past twenty years or so. Progressive legislative gains and ongoing civil rights activism have seeded sufficient changes that have prevented these improvements from being clawed back (like SCOTUS tried to do in the mid-1990s with Affirmative Action).

The results by region were revealing. For blacks, the improvement was relatively constant across the country, though the southeast performed better. For whites, the reversal for Gen Y occurred mostly in rural America, the mid-west through the mountain states.

This was especially evident in areas that experienced a loss of jobs to China, India and elsewhere from technology and globalization. This began in the 1970s and was responsible for de-industrializing a significant swath of the heartland where manufacturing companies once paid high union wages. This gutted the cultural and financial livelihood of these communities, the negative consequences evident still today. This much is well known. But the impact on black and white employment, according to Lopez and Wu, is a surprise. Whites were pushed out of the work force while blacks found other jobs.

They posit the following explanations for this disparity:

“White workers might have had more wealth or savings to weather unemployment than their black counterparts did, but at a cost to their upward mobility. They might also have been less willing to find another job. A steel mill that shut down could have employed not just one worker but his father and grandfather, making it a family occupation. People in that situation might feel that they lost something more than a job and might not settle for any other work. The places where black workers live were generally less affected by job flight than the places where white workers live. And compared with earlier generations, black workers today are less likely to face racial prejudice in the labor force, making it easier for them to find work. While a white worker might have a generational connection to a steel mill job, a black worker often does not, because segregation kept his parents and grandparents out. These trends add up to decades of lost economic progress for low-income white people and the opposite for black Americans.

This only pertains to the black and white low-income populations. As the study notes, the real issue we face is the widening of inequality overall

(that has increased in the Biden administration). It references this malady in relation to the white population, but this widening is also present in the black population. The structural workings of the neoliberal, monetarist capitalism that oppresses such a formidable swatch of American society keep expanding the capital of the 1% exponentially, irrespective of its skin color.

The question moving forward is whether this systemic force can be checked so that this widening begins to reverse while gains can be made within all the low-income populations. And redrawing Affirmative Action to account for class in a way that preserves the strength of race will help motor this progress.









John O’Kane teaches writing at Chapman University. His recent book is Toward Election 2020: Cancel Culture, Censorship and Class