A few weeks ago I read in this paper about a ceremony of reconciliation at the Barre Library. It has lingered in my mind. I have been trying to give it some perspective.
I have no doubt that Chief Red Cloud’s inner spirit was made happy by the Barre library’s decision to return the Lakota tribe’s artifacts and, alas, even some body parts, which were taken as souvenirs after a brutal massacre 130 years ago at Wounded Knee. A massacre very much like the ones we are witnessing today in Ukraine. The chief’s sense of humor and his kindness seem to sustain him; he can still imagine all human beings one day finally being responsible to the future, and doing it together like “a bunch of wild Indians.”
But consider again what U.S. soldiers actually did. Without mercy, 300 defenseless elderly folk, women and children were shot and left to die in freezing temperatures and whose bodies were later ransacked by gravediggers for tokens of the soldiers’ victory. Sadly, today in Ukraine the same kinds of atrocities are being committed by another army. One can’t help but question the meaning of what it is to be human in dark times such as these. And these times have always been part of humankind’s repertoire and have been described in most culture’s mythologies.
Nevertheless, we go on hoping and hoping, as Chief Red Cloud does, that human beings will one day see themselves as one people. Whatever their culture, religion, or the hue of their skin. Sometimes I fear that clinging to hope for racial ( a constructed and insidious concept to begin with) or social justice becomes problematic, given the ongoing evidence we see and hear every day. I question whether our hope for such radical changes may become but another lie in the web of lies that we are so entangled in that we have lost our sense of balance and ability to think clearly. What can we reasonably hope for given that we are both empathetic, self-sacrificing creatures and creatures who are too often also capable of irrational violence?
William James argues, “that the reason to hope is that it provides an opportunity to navigate the world with the possibility for discovery.” I continually ponder this; is it an ignoble retreat from our grander hopes or is it an acceptance of the present global reality to allow our smaller hopes to dominate our thoughts, to suffice? Our expectations for the bounty of our gardens? The pleasure of watching our offspring grow into themselves? The gestures of friendship we make and the confidences we share?
I am very glad that the sacred belongings of the Lakota, long stored in a Massachusetts library and once, actually up for sale in this country, are soon to be returned to the descendants of the victims. This will certainly appease the spirits of a people who view their slaughtered ancestors and their lost land far differently from how we view our ancestors and our land. This is a gesture of hope that Barre has made to a tribe that for years has suffered broken treaties and vastly underfunded reservations. It is a gesture that, at least for the moment, gives me a smidgeon of genuine hope for a planet besieged by violence and ignorance and fear.
The grander dreams do not die easily. It may be best for our well-being, at least, to imagine a future when together, “like a bunch of wild Indians” we may discover how to be responsible to the earth and to future generations.
Margot Fleck lives in Northfield.