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Hurricane Review from The Seminole Tribuneby Mark AamotIt's been said that a people must come to terms with its own history in order create a future free from the mistakes of the past. Paul Chaat Smith and Robert Allen Warrior's new book, Like A Hurricane, puts the history of Native activism during the 1960s and 1970s into a clear light, allowing readers to grapple with that volatile era-and to consider what sway it will hold over Indian existence in the future-in a way no previous book on the subject has. Dissatisfied in large part with the flood of similar books already in (and some already out of) print, the authors set out as "observers in search of an honest telling of a fabulous story." That story has too often been told by Native and non-Native people with a narrow, sometimes hidden, agenda-be it personal or political, but always in the habit of drawing arbitrary lines between the "cruel and racist white government" and a romanticized Indian opposition, decked in red headbands, who could do no wrong while fighting the good fight for their rights. Smith and Warrior base their account on a belief that the Indian movement of that era deserved a more profound analysis that the images that Hollywood-think of Thunderheart-or big publishing houses-think of the recent celebrity-style autobiography of Russell Means-have so far offered up. The wealth of books and films on this subject all have their p lace in the telling-and sometimes mythologizing-of the modern Indian movement. However, no book until Hurricane takes readers right into the 18-month occupation of Alcatraz, or the BIA takeover in Washington, D.C., or the siege of Wounded Knee, in such a straightforward and sympathetic manner. All revolutionary movements are wrought with complication and frustration, whether they triumph or fail in the end. In Hurricane's account, what Smith and Warrior call "this messy, beautiful, disorganized movement" comes through with all its blunders, joys, and victories intact-with all the detail and complexity of an exploded diagram. For instance, there is a powerful description of the caravan of AIM members and desperate residents of Pine Ridge reservation passing through Pine Ridge Village on a blustery winter night in 1973. Fifty-four vehicles-strong, they were on their way to take over Wounded Knee. Tribal police and U.S. marshals in the village were scrambling to determine what was going on and how to respond to what they perceived as a full-blown crisis in the making. Describing "the finest moment of AIM's brief and often troubled history," the authors offer a step-by-step walk through the journey, both symbolic and literal, of the dissidents who took the Knee, and the ensuing standoff between those people and the federal government and Wilson's "goons." Likewise, the authors chronicle the disorganization and ego-clashing that led to the first, and ultimately unsuccessful, attempt at taking Alcatraz in 1969. Even when the island was finally occupied by Indians from around the world, Hurricane points out that "the sacred and the profane" coexisted at Alcatraz and other clashed dotting the movement's tangled life. Drunkenness, infighting and possibly avoidable mistakes (sometimes fatal, such as the still mysterious death of Alcatraz leader Richard Oakes' daughter), set the tone for the actions that took place alongside brilliantly written manifestos and serious attempts to return to traditional ways. While the American Indian Movement (AIM) is central to much of the book, Smith and Warrior have tried to tell the story from the points of view of "urban Indian rebels, conservative tribal chairmen, Bureau of Indian Affairs officials, White House Aides, and others," as well as members of AIM. The authors blur the relationships these people and organizations had with each other into an accurate portrait of their convergence and conflagration. The differences between so-called full-bloods and progressives, and between urban Indians and reservation Indians, were not, according to their research as clear as many people in the aftermath now believe. For instance, the 343-page book examines how many residents on Pine Ridge had mixed feelings about inviting AIM into the fray, and about taking action against Tribal Chairman Dick Wilson's administration. The Oglala Sioux Civil Rights Organization (OSCRO) was already mobilizing against the repressive tactics of Wilson's government, but were hesitant to publicly associate with AIM for fear of losing the support of elders on the reservation. On the road to taking Wounded Knee, there were elders and young people, those who spoke their traditional language and those who didn't, those who were fervent supporters of more drastic measures and those who felt forced into a reluctant decision to take action. AIM is not telling the story this time. Rather, Smith and Warrior respectfully put AIM into the larger context of what led up to the explosion of activity that people like Russel Means, Clyde Bellecourte, Dennis Banks, and John Truddel were involved in at the time. Alongside such well-known figures in the AIM vanguard, readers will also become familiar with lesser-knowns like Richard Oakes, Ed Castillo, and Hank Adams-men whose politics and activist preceded AIM or who were integral players on the sidelines during AIM's domination of the scene. Clyde Warrior, who set the stage in the 1950s, both politically and intellectually, for the uprisings two decades later, enjoys here a full telling of his story over the course of two chapters With sound reporting and a keen sense of the difficulties involved in a revisionist history, Smith and Warrior steer away from a narrow reading of the vents and the array of players in this drama. Their hope, made clear in the book's introduction, is that Hurricane might serve as the groundwork for a more open-ended dialogue about the history of the Indian movement and the influence it has to this day on the politics, economics, and social conditions of Indian Nations both nationally and around the world. As a result, this no-punches-pulled style of storytelling-which includes some-less-than- -flattering portraits of Native life in the trenches-makes for an inspiring read. Regardless of where one might stand on the complex legal, political, and cultural consequences of the movement, the narrative brings readers full circle to an informed appreciation of the leaders, the ranks, and the terrain they populated during the most frenetic period of Indian activism in the 20th Century. "That a few thousand
who fought to bring power and visibility to the most ignored population
in the United States failed to win all they dreamed can hardly be surprising,"
the authors write in a passage that captures both the heady spirit and
long odds of that era. "That they came so close is the miracle." |
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