That’s the bad news.
The good news is that we might not. Civilization, with its relentless drive for standardization and absolute need to destroy diversity, has made itself extremely vulnerable to certain forms of attack. Any diverse system will by definition have far fewer bottlenecks, and those it does have will be far less crucial: diversity creates alternatives and leads to adaptability. If for some reason the salmon failed to return one season, the Tolowa could have eaten the abundant elk and even more abundant crabs and even more abundant lamprey. Standardized systems, while superficially more efficient, by their very nature are more susceptible to bottlenecks, and the bottlenecks they do have are far more constraining. By now, if oil supplies get cut off, the people who live in this occupied Tolowa territory will starve to death: the salmon, elk, crabs, and lamprey are gone, along with the knowledge of how to feed ourselves.454 Further, a globally interdependent economy will, once again by definition, be subject to far more and greater bottlenecks. Remember all the fools it takes to cut down just one big tree. Break a link in this chain of fools (chain of supply), and the chainsaws will fall silent.
For all its fancy surveillance software and bunker buster bombs, for all the propaganda pumped continuously into our homes and into our hearts, for all the massive prison complexes waiting for when the propaganda systems fail, the whole system is, as we’ll explore in Volume II, far more vulnerable than it was at the time of Tecumseh, or than it has been at any time since its wretched beginnings. In its haste to control and destroy the world, civilization has handed us some very long levers, and pointed us toward some very well-placed and solid fulcrums. In case you are wondering, that’s a very good thing indeed.
I need to mention one more striking difference between arguments among the civilized and among the indigenous about whether to fight back. It’s an absolutely crucial difference: Only rarely do the indigenous argue on moral grounds against fighting back. Sometimes they’ll make moral arguments against fighting back in this or that case, because they feel the particular injuries they’re discussing do not merit a violent response, and some tribes are extremely pacifistic among themselves (and even sometimes among other tribes), but almost never do the indigenous attempt to argue that one should on moral grounds never fight back against someone—let’s be precise, kill someone—who is stealing your land and killing your people.
So far I’ve only found one clear example of an indigenous person counseling that one should never under any circumstances fight back. It’s an article written by a Cheyenne Chief named Lawrence Hart.455 Hart describes what he calls the Cheyenne Peace Tradition, the essence of which is, according to Hart, the following teaching: “If you see your mother, wife, or children being molested or harmed by anyone, you do not go and seek revenge. Go, sit and smoke and do nothing, for you are now a Cheyenne chief.” To make sure we get his point, he repeats this word-for-word (and bolded) seven times in less than four pages. He also describes the actions of three Cheyenne he suggests we should all strive to emulate. The first of these was Lean Bear, who went to Washington, D.C., to meet with Abraham Lincoln. For this he was given a “peace medal,” and documents that “would show that he was a friendly, that he had made a treaty with the United States. A peace treaty, if you will.” Soon after he got home, he was out riding with some other Cheyenne and came upon a column of soldiers. He approached them. The soldiers shot him. He died clutching the documents showing he was a friendly. The second person we are supposed to emulate was White Antelope, who also had gone to D.C., and who also had received a peace medal. Lawrence Hart doesn’t mention whether White Antelope was holding this medal on the morning of November 29, 1864, as Colonel Chivington’s troops began the Sand Creek Massacre. White Antelope shouted in English at the white troops, “Stop! Stop!” This shouting worked no better at stopping the slaughter of Indians by whites than peace treaties had. When he finally realized the troops were attacking in earnest, he did not fight back, but folded his arms and sang his death song, “Nothing lives long/Except the earth/And the mountains.”456 The third person Hart wants us to emulate was also present at Sand Creek. Black Kettle somehow survived, and somehow continued to want to make peace with the whites. But he met the same end as the others, murdered along with his wife by Custer and the boys at the Washita massacre.
I have to be honest and tell you Hart’s examples didn’t compel me to want to become a moral pacifist,457 and I have to be even more honest and tell you that I found the notion of standing by while someone molests or harms one’s children or other loved ones to be profoundly immoral and irresponsible—despicable even. Many traditional Indians would have agreed. The response by Shawnees to members of their own tribe who refused to fight the whites458 was to sneer at their weakness and fright,459 to evince disgust and anger.460 Of one of those who wanted peace with the whites it was written that he “was generally considered to be an inconsequential chief with nothing of any great consequence between his ears, [who] was very inclined to attend the proposed peace treaty talks and wished to grasp the American offerings of peace irrespective of at what cost.”461
I didn’t, however, find Hart’s pacifism surprising, for two related reasons. The first was that the article was written in 1981,462 long after Black Hawk’s fears were realized, long after many Indians had taken on the mantle of their oppressors. The second reason has to do with how the mantle in this case manifests. Even more important to my understanding of Hart’s statements is the fact that he’s a Christian: a Mennonite pastor. The most direct (and so far only) argument I’ve seen for absolute moral pacifism by an Indian was written by a Christian. Of course. Of course a Christian would counsel pacifism and accommodation in the face of oppression. Of course a Christian would explicitly suggest that nothing be done to stop violence that flows down a hierarchy, even when this violence is done to one’s family. Of course a Christian would counsel that withdrawal and contemplation (sitting and smoking and doing nothing) are appropriate and moral responses to molestations and harms that could be stopped. That’s the point. A purpose of Christianity is and always has been to rationalize submission to those in power. Those in power conquer under the sign of the cross, while the rest of us count on getting our rewards in heaven. Or maybe we’ll get some rewards here: If only we’re meek enough, we’re told, with a barely perceptible smile and the hint of a wink, we may someday get to inherit (the wreckage of) this world.
Now, I could understand Hart’s story and teachings if he presented them as simply one part of a community’s spiritual life, a part that is necessary to the health of the community, but no more nor less necessary than appropriate counsel for war, appropriate counsel for hunting, for child rearing, for where to place your communal latrines. The Shawnee, for example, had five clans, each of which served functions for the Shawnee as a whole. Two clans dealt with political matters both within and without the tribe, one dealt with matters of health and medicine, one with spiritual matters, and one provided the majority of warriors and war chiefs.463 They all worked together. Further, I can see how it’s appropriate for people to think clearly under as many circumstances as possible (but where does feeling enter Hart’s description?), and I can see how it may be appropriate for some people in the community to attempt to think clearly and contemplatively under all circumstances, even the most personally trying. And I can see how others in the community may serve other roles, as appropriate. But it is simplistic, absurd, unrealistic, unnatural, and just plain incorrect to suggest, as Hart seems to,464 that absolute pacifism is a better, more effective, more moral, or more adaptive way to structure a community, or that it is an appropriate response to the deathliness of civilization. It is also simply untrue to ascribe universal moral pacifism to the Cheyenne. Certainly the famous Cheyenne fighter Roman Nose (Woo-Kay-Nay or Arched Nose) would have been surprised to learn that the Cheyenne were or are moral pacifists. So would the Cheyenne who fought alongside Red Cloud, and those who fought alongside Sitting Bull and Crazy Hors
e. Far from being in any way pacifistic, the Cheyenne had at least seven full-fledged military societies: the Kit-Fox Men (Woksihitaneo); Red Shields (Mahohivas); Crazy Dogs (Hotamimasaw); Crooked Lance Society (Himoiyoqis), known by the ethnohistorian George Grinnell as the Elks; Bowstring Men (Himatanohis); Wolf Warriors (Konianutqio); and the famous Dog Soldiers (Hotamitaneo).465
In fact, instead of disproving my point about traditional indigenous peoples not advocating absolute moral pacifism, I think instead Lawrence Hart’s article—given his Christianity—supports it.
Having said all this, I think we all know the real reason behind the paucity of speeches in support of moral pacifism by the indigenous, which is that absolute moral pacifism is a product of civilization. It is, as we’ll soon explore in Volume II, a response by the exploited to their trauma. It is an unnatural state. It is a state that is nurtured by exploiter and victim alike, to perpetuate their exploitative and destructive relationship.
STAR WARS
Twaddle, rubbish, and gossip is what people want, not action. . . . The secret of life is to chatter freely about all one wishes to do and how one is always being prevented—and then do nothing.
Soren Kierkegaard466
I WENT TO SEE STAR WARS WHEN I WAS IN FIGH SCHOOL, WHICH SEEMS about the right time to see it. I liked it a lot. I wasn’t one of those people who saw it a hundred times or anything. I wasn’t that much of a nerd. Besides, I was too busy playing Dungeons and Dragons. I saw it again recently. It’s not so good as I remember. In fact it’s pretty bad. The characters are flat, the dialog hokey, the acting nondescript. But I still loved the ending, where Luke remembers to “use the force” to blow up the Death Star. For those of you who may have forgotten, the Death Star (according to the official Star Wars website) “was the code name of an unspeakably powerful and horrific weapon developed by the Empire. The immense space station carried a weapon capable of destroying entire planets. The Death Star was to be an instrument of terror, meant to cow treasonous worlds with the threat of annihilation. While the massive station is evidence of the evil that was the Galactic Empire, it was also proof of the New Order’s greatest weakness—the belief that technology and terror were superior to the will of oppressed beings fighting for freedom.” That’s all pretty interesting stuff, and of course applicable to the discussion at hand: civilization as Death Star.
The website also says, “The Death Star was a battle station the size of a small moon. It had a formidable array of turbolasers and tractor beam projectors, giving it the firepower of greater than half the Imperial Starfleet. Within its cavernous interior were legions of Imperial troops and fightercraft, as well as all manner of detention blocks and interrogation cells. The Death Star was spherical, and dark gray in color. Located on the Death Star’s northern hemisphere was a concave disk housing the station’s main laser weapon. . . . In a brutal display of the Death Star’s power, Grand Moff Tarkin targeted its prime weapon at the peaceful world of Alderaan. [Rebel princess] Leia Organa, an Imperial captive at the time, was forced to watch as the searing laser blast split apart her beloved world, turning the planet and its populace into orbital ash and debris.” I’m not sure if you feel a stab of recognition at being a captive of the empire, forced to watch your beloved world and its (human and nonhuman) populace turned into orbital ash and debris. I do.
The website continues, “Using . . . stolen technical data, [rebel] Alliance tacticians were able to pinpoint a crucial flaw in the Death Star’s design. A small ray-shielded thermal exhaust port led directly from the surface of the station into the heart of its colossal reactor. If the port could be breached by proton torpedoes, then the resulting chain reaction would destroy the station.”467 We all know what happened next: By using the force, and with the help of Han Solo and Chewbacca, as well as the spirit of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker was able to drop a proton torpedo right down the tiny port, and blow up the Death Star.
One small proton torpedo destroyed the Death Star. This would be a prime example of leveraging your power by using a properly placed fulcrum. In our case, to switch metaphors, where do we place the charges? Where is the correct thermal exhaust port? How do we start a chain reaction that will cause the “Death Star” before us to self-destruct?
You know, don’t you, that this wasn’t the movie’s original ending. I have in my hands an extremely rare early draft of the Star Wars film script, never before published.468 It may surprise you to learn that the early drafts were written by environmentalists.469 In this version, the rebels do not of course blow up the Death Star, but instead prefer to use other tactics to slow the intergalactic march of Empire. For example, they set up programs for people on planets about to be destroyed to produce luxury items like hemp hacky sacks and gourmet coffee for sale to inhabitants of the Death Star. Audience members will also discover that there are plans afoot to encourage loads of troopers and other citizens of the Empire to take ecotours of doomed planets. The purpose will be to show to one and all that these planets are economically important to the Empire and so should not be destroyed. In a surprise move that will rivet viewers to the edges of their seats, other groups of rebels file lawsuits against the Empire, attempting to show that the Environmental Impact Statement Darth Vader was required to file failed to adequately support its decision that blowing up this planet would cause “no significant impact.” Viewers will thrill to learn of plans to boycott items produced by corporations that have Darth Vader on the board of directors, and will leap to their feet in theaters worldwide when they see bags full of letters written directly to Mr. Vader himself asking that he please not blow up anymore planets. (Scribbled in the margin is a note from one of the screenwriters: “For accuracy’s sake, when we show examples of these letters, it is imperative that all letters to Mr. Vader be respectful and courteous, and that they stress the need to find cooperative solutions to the differences between the rebels and the Empire. Under no circumstances should the letters be such that they would alienate or anger Mr. Vader. If the letters upset Mr. Vader, the rebels’ letter campaign to the Grand Moff Tarkin would certainly fail as well.”) Other plans include sending petitions and filing lawsuits.
Now, you and I both know that all of this should be sufficient not only to bring the Empire to its knees but to make a damn fine and exciting movie. The thing is: there’s more. Thousands of renegade rebels, unhappy with what they perceive as toadying on the part of the mainstream rebels, decide, in a scene guaranteed to bring tears to the eyes of even the most cold-hearted theatergoers, to stand on the planets to be destroyed, link arms (or, in some cases, tentacles), and sing “Give Peace a Chance.” They send DVDs of this to both Darth Vader and his boss the Grand Moff Tarkin, to whom they also send wave after wave of lovingkindness™. Some few rebels sneak aboard the Death Star and lock themselves down to various pieces of equipment. (Early in this draft of the film, the screenwriters included a long scene showing the extensive training in nonviolent communication that is a prerequisite to joining the rebels. Most writers had originally, by the way, called it a rebel army, but several objected to the violence inherent in that word. Next came “rebel force,” but nearly as many objected to that word as well. In any case, the nuanced scene of nonviolence training was dropped in later drafts and the infamous [and horribly violent] Cantina scene was, incomprehensibly to some, put in its place.470) Stirring debates are held onscreen among these rebels as to whether they should voluntarily surrender on approach of the troopers, or whether they should remain locked down to the end. In a brilliant and brave touch of authenticity, the rebels are never able to come to consensus.
The writers themselves entered into a debate as to whether the troopers should decapitate the locked-down rebels on or off screen, with one writer pleading that instead rebels must be explicitly shown being taken alive to interrogation cells: “Showing,” he wrote in the margin, “or even implying that the troopers would ever commit these acts of violence, even in response to such obvious challenges to their autho
rity as rebels invading their space and doing violence to their machinery by interfering with that machinery’s lawful use would send absolutely the wrong message to theatergoers, and would give the wrong impression of Mr. Vader’s ultimately peaceful intentions.”
Once inside the Death Star, a splinter group breaks off from those about to lock themselves down. They rush down long hallways, somehow avoiding the myriad troopers. They burn a couple of transport ships, and use chemicals to etch “Galaxy Liberation Front” on the walls of the Death Star. This group miraculously escapes back to the planet about to be destroyed, where they’re held by the peaceful protesters so they can be immediately and rightly turned over to troopers. That same writer comments in the margin, “Not only is it vital, once again, that the right message be sent to audience members by showing these rebels being put in a position to take responsibility for their actions, but it would also be terribly unrealistic to expect these peaceful rebels to put up with these actions that would simply give Darth Vader the excuse he needs to blow up the planet. The disrespectful hooligans must be turned over to the Empire promptly and without question.”
Near the end of the movie another debate is held among the rebels. (One problem I had with this environmentalist screenplay was that there was a bit too much debate and not quite enough action.471) As the Death Star looms directly overhead, a few of the rebels advocate picking up weapons to fight back. These rebels are generally shouted down by pacifist rebels, who argue that attacking those who run the Death Star is “just another example of the Empire’s harmful philosophy coming in by the back door.” They state that the rebels who want to fight back are simply being co-opted by the need to control things. If we want to change Darth Vader, they say, we must all first become the change. To change Darth Vader’s heart, we must first change our own. We must above all else have compassion for Darth Vader, and remember that he, too, was once a child. One writer put in the margins: “Excellent! This will be sure to moisten the cheeks of sensitive people everywhere!” He did not mention whether or not these tears would be of frustration. Finally Leia, Luke, Han, Chewbacca, and a couple of robots show up and tell these others they’ve found a way to blow up the whole Death Star. The rest of the rebels—even those who’d previously been in favor of surgical strikes aimed at “removing” Darth Vader—are horrified. They point out that blowing up the Death Star will do nothing to change the hearts and minds of those who create Death Stars, and so will accomplish nothing. Han Solo replies, “It will stop this Death Star from destroying this planet.” The pacifist rebels are unmoved. They remind the unruly four that the Death Star has a crew of 265,675, plus 52,276 gunners, 607,360 troops, 25,984 stormtroopers, 42,782 ship support staff, and 167,216 pilots and support crew.472 Each of these people on the Death Star has a family. Do you want to make their children orphans? The pacifists themselves begin to cry. (That same screen-writer comments: “If that doesn’t yank the tears out of audience members’ tiny ducts, I don’t know what will!”) They say, voices firm behind the sobs, “You cannot blow up the Death Star. What about the custodial engineers? What about the cooks? What about the people who work the shopping malls? What about those who joined the empire’s armed services just so they could go to college? You—Leia, Han, Luke, and Chewbacca—are heartless and cruel.”
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