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Clyde Warrior - We Are Not Free (1967)

Page history last edited by Frank Kelderman 10 years, 3 months ago

Most members of the National Indian Youth Council can remember when we were children and spent many hours at the feet of our grandfathers listening to stories of the time when Indians were a great people, when we were free, when we were rich, when we lived the good life.  At the same time we heard stories of droughts, famines, and pestilence.  It was only recently that we realized that there was surely great material deprivation in those days, but that our old people felt rich because they were free.  They were rich in things of the spirit, but if there is one thing that characterizes Indian life today it is poverty of the spirit.  We still have human passions and depth of feeling (which may be something rare in these days), but we are poor in spirit because we are not free—free in the most basic sense of the word.  We are not allowed to make those basic human choices and decisions about our personal life and about the destiny of our communities which is the mark of free mature people.  We sit on our front porches or in our yards, and the world and our lives in it pass us by without our desires or aspirations having any effect.


We are not free.  We do not make choices.  Our choices are made for us; we are the poor.  For those of us who live on reservations these choices and decisions are made by federal administrators, bureaucrats, and their “yes men,” euphemistically called tribal governments.  Those of us who live in nonreservation areas have our lives controlled by local white power elites.  We have many rulers.  They are called social workers, “cops,” school teachers, churches, etc., and now OEO employees.  They call us into meetings to tell us what is good for us and how they’ve programmed us, or they come into our homes to instruct us and their manners are not always what one would call polite by Indian standards or perhaps by any standards.  We are rarely accorded respect as fellow human deings.  Our children come home from school to us with shame in their hearts and a sneer on their lips for their home and parents.  We are the “poverty problem” and that is true; and perhaps it is also true that our lack of reasonable choices, our lack of freedoms, and our poverty of the spirit is not unconnected with our material poverty.


The National Indian Youth Council realizes there is a great struggle going on in America between those who want more “local” control of programs and those who would keep the power and the purse strings in the hands of the federal government.  We are unconcerned with that struggle because we know that no one is arguing that the dispossessed, the poor, be given any control over their own destiny.  The local white power elites who protest the loudest against federal control are the very ones who would keep us poor in spirit and worldly goods in order to enhance their own personal and economic station in the world.


Nor have those of us on reservations fared any better under the paternalistic control of federal administrations.  In fact, we shudder at the specter of what seems to be the forming alliances in Indian areas between federal administrations and local elites.  Some of us fear this is the shape of things to come in the War on Poverty effort.  Certainly, it is in those areas where such an alliance is taking place that the poverty program seems to be “working well.”  That is to say, it is in those areas of the country where the federal government is getting the least “static” and where federal money is being used to bolster the local power structure and local institutions.  By “everybody being satisfied,” I mean the people who count and the Indian or poor does not count.


Let us take the Head Start Program as an instance.  We are told in the not-so-subtle racist vocabulary of the modern middle class that our children are “deprived.”  Exactly what they are deprived of seems to be unstated.  We give our children love, warmth and respect in our homes and the qualities necessary to be a warm human being.  Perhaps many of them get into trouble in their teens because we have given them too much warmth, love, passion, and respect.  Perhaps they have a hard time reconciling themselves to being a number on an IBM card.  Nevertheless, many educators and politicians seem to assume that we, the poor, the Indians, are not capable of handling our own affairs and even raising our own children and that state institutions must do the job for us and take them away from us as soon as they can.  My grandmother said last week, “Train your child well now for soon she will belong to her teacher and the schools.”  Many of our fears about the Head Start Program which we had from listening to the vocabulary of educators and their intentions were not justified, however.  In our rural areas the program seems to have turned out to be just a federally subsidized kindergarten which no one seems to take too seriously.  It has not turned out to be, as we feared, an attempt to “re-thread” the “twisted head” of the child from a poor home.  Head Start, as a program, may not have fulfilled the expectations of elitist educators in our educational colleges, and the poor may not be ecstatic over the results, but the local powers are overjoyed.  This is the one program which has not upset any one’s apple cart and which has strengthened local institutions in an acceptable manner, acceptable at least to our local “patrons.”


Fifty years ago the federal government came into our communities and by force carried most of our children away to distant boarding schools.  My father and many of my generation lived their childhoods in an almost prison-like atmosphere.  Many returned unable even to speak their own language.  Some returned to become drunks.  Most of them had become white haters or that most pathetic of all modern Indians—Indian haters.  Very few ever became more than very confused, ambivalent and immobilized individuals—never able to reconcile the tensions and contradictions built inside themselves by outside institutions.  As you can imagine, we have little faith in such kinds of federal programs devised for our betterment nor do we see education as a panacea for all ills.  In recent days, however, some of us have been thinking that perhaps the damage done to our communities by forced assimilation and directed acculturative programs was minor compared to the situation in which our children now find themselves.  There is a whole generation of Indian children who are growing up in the American school system.  They still look to their relatives, my generation, and my father’s to see if they are worthy people.  But their judgement and definition of what is worthy is now the judgement most Americans make.  They judge worthiness as competence and competence as worthiness.  And I am afraid me and my fathers do not fare well in the light of this situation and that they individually are not worthy.  Even if by some stroke of good fortune prosperity was handed to us “on a platter"; that still would not soften the negative judgement our youngsters have of their people and themselves.  As you know, people who feel themselves to be unworthy and feel they cannot escape this unworthiness turn to drink and crime and self-destructive acts.  Unless there is some way that we as Indian individuals and communities can prove ourselves competent and worthy in the eyes of our youngsters there will be a generation of Indians grow to adulthood whose reaction to their situation will make previous social ills seem like a Sunday School picnic.


For the sake of our children, for the sake of the spiritual and material well-being of our total community we must be able to demonstrate competence to ourselves.  For the sake of our psychic stability as well as our physical well-being we must be free men and exercise free choices.  We must make decisions about our own destinies.  We must be able to learn and profit from our own mistakes.  Only then can we become competent and prosperous communities.  We must be free in the most literal sense of the word—not sold or coerced into accepting programs for our own good, not of our own making or choice.  Too much of what passes for “grassroots democracy” on the American scene is really a slick job of salesmanship.  It is not hard for sophisticated administrators to sell tinsel and glitter programs to simple people—programs which are not theirs, which they do not understand and which cannot but ultimately fail and contribute to already strong feelings of inadequacy.  Community development must be just what the word implies, Community Development.  It cannot be packaged programs wheeled into Indian communities by outsiders which Indians can “buy” or once again brand themselves as unprogressive if they do not “cooperate.”  Even the best of outside programs suffer from one very large defect—if the program falters helpful outsiders too often step in to smooth over the rough spots.  At that point any program ceases to belong to the people involved and ceases to be a learning experience for them.  Programs must be Indian experiences because only then will indians understand why a program failed and not blame themselves for some personal inadequacy.  A better program built upon the failure of an old program is the path of progress.  But to achieve this experience, competence, worthiness, sense of achievement and the resultant material prosperity Indians must have the responsibility in the ultimate sense of the word.  Indians must be free in the sense that other more prosperous Americans are free.  Freedom and prosperity are different sides of the same coin and there can be no freedom without complete responsibility.  And I do not mean the fictional responsibility and democracy of passive consumers of programs; programs which emanate from and whose responsibility for success rests in the hands of outsiders—be they federal administrators or local white elitist groups.


Many of our young people are captivated by the lure of the American city with its excitement and promise of unlimited opportunity.  But even if educated they come from powerless and inexperienced communities and many times carry with them a strong sense of unworthiness.  For many of them the promise of opportunity ends in the gutter on the skid rows of Los Angeles and Chicago.  They should and must be given a better chance to take advantage of the opportunities they have.  They must grow up in a decent community with a strong sense of personal adequacy and competence.

America cannot afford to have whole areas and communities of people in such dire social and economic circumstances.  Not only for her economic well-being but for her moral well-being as well.  America has given a great social and moral message to the world and demonstrated (perhaps not forcefully enough) that freedom and responsibility as an ethic is inseparable from and, in fact, the “cause” of the fabulous American standard of living.  America has not however been diligent enough in promulgating this philosophy within her own borders.  American Indians need to be given this freedom and responsibility which most Americans assume as their birth right.  Only then will poverty and powerlessness cease to hang like the sword of Damocles over our heads stifling us.  Only then can we enjoy the fruits of the American system and become participating citizens—Indian Americans rather than American Indians.


Perhaps, the National Indian Youth Council’s real criticism is against a structure created by bureaucratic administrators who are caught in this American myth that all people assimilate into American society, that economics dictates assimilation and integration.  From the experience of the National Indian Youth Council, and in reality, we cannot emphasize and recommend strongly enough the fact that no one integrates and disappears into American society.  What ethnic groups do is not integrate into American society and economy individually, but enter into the mainstream of American society as a people, and in particular as communities of people.  The solution to Indian poverty is not “government programs” but in the competence of the person and his people.  The real solution to poverty is encouraging the competence of the community as a whole.

[The] National Indian Youth Council recommends for “openers” that to really give these people “the poor, the dispossessed, the Indians,” complete freedom and responsibility is to let it become a reality not a much-heard-about dream and let the poor decide for once, what is best for themselves.


Testimony of Clyde Warrior before the President’s National Advisory Commission on Rural Poverty, February 2, 1967, in Colin G. Calloway, First Peoples, A Documentary Survey of American Indian History (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 1999), 467-471.


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