In 1854, the "Great White Chief" in Washington, President Franklin Pierce,
made an offer for a large area of Indian land and promised a "reservation" for
the Indian people. Chief Seath(Seattle), chief of the Suquamish and other
Salish tribes of the Pacific Northwest, replied to President Pierce, giving an
address that is now considered to be one of the most beautiful and profound
environmental statements ever made. In it are many of the hallmarks of the
dawning New Age. It also includes an eloquent prescription for the kind of
attitudes and actions that will result in humanity's healthy return to the
Earth in the years to come. Robert Boissiere.
“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-these
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 black water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just
water but the blood of our ancestors. Remember that it is sacred, and teach
your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear
water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The
water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.
“The rivers are our brothers-they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our
canoes and feed our children. Remember, and teach your children, that the
rivers are our brothers and yours, and give the rivers the kindness you would
give any brother.
“We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of the
land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who 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. But perhaps it is because the red man is
a savage and does not understand. There is no quiet place in the white man's
cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of
an insect's wings. But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not
understand. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to
life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whipporwill or the arguments
of the frogs around a pool 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, and
the smell of the wind itself, cleansed by a mid-day rain, or scented with
pine.
“The air is precious, for all things share the same breath. The beast, the
tree, the man-they 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, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
The 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's flowers.
“So we shall consider your offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I
will make one condition: The white man must treat the beasts of this land as
his brothers.
“I am a savage and I do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand
rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a
passing train. I am savage and I do not understand how the smoking iron horse
can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.
“What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, many would die
from a great loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts soon
happens to man. All things are connected.
“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 what 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.
This we know. All things are connected like the blood, which unites one
family. All things are connected.
“Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave
the web of life; he is merely a strand it. Whatever he does to the web, he
does to himself.
“Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend,
cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We
shall see. One thing we know, which the white man may discover: Our God is the
same God. You may think now that you own him as you wish to own land; buy 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 tamed, the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the 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.”