Podcasts about richard henry pratt

“How do you expect this country to ever be anything but in turmoil?”This is the rhetorical question posed by our guest, Gwen Leaffe Carr, executive director of the Carlisle Indian School Project.A relatively unknown chapter in the ongoing tragedy of America's Native people is the one about the boarding schools designed to erase them. Or, in the words of their architect, Lt. Col. Richard Henry Pratt, to “kill the Indian in him, and save the man." This episode of Unreasonable is dedicated to all those who suffered the indignity of these schools, to those who died there, and to those who survived.Thanks for listening! Now follow us on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and Threads. And become a Patreon supporter at www.podcastunreasonable.com. It's a small price to pay to keep America from becoming a theocracy, dontchya think?

The Brafferton Indian School has a long and complicated legacy. Chartered with the College of William & Mary in 1693, the Brafferton Indian School's purpose was to educate young Indigenous boys in the ways of English religion, language, and culture. The Brafferton performed this work for more than 70 years, between the arrival of its first students in 1702 and when the last documented student left the school in 1778.  This second episode in our 2-episode series about the Brafferton Indian School will focus on the legacy of the Brafferton Indian School and how it and other colonial-era Indian Schools established models for the schools the United States government and religious institutions established during the Indian Boarding School Era.  As one of the architects of these later Boarding Schools, Richard Henry Pratt, stated, the purpose of these boarding schools was to “kill the Indian and save the man.” Pratt meant that the United States government desired to assimilate and fully Americanize Indigenous children so there would be no more Native Americans.  But Indigenous peoples are resilient, and they have resisted American attempts to extinguish their cultures. So we'll also hear from three tribal citizens in Virginia who are working in different ways to reawaken long-dormant aspects of their Indigenous cultures. Show Notes: https://www.benfranklinsworld.com/368 Sponsor Links Colonial Williamsburg Foundation The American Indian Initiative at Colonial Williamsburg  William & Mary, Brafferton Initiative William & Mary October 28th Lecture: Ned Blackhawk, “The Indigenous Origins of the American Revolution” Complementary Episodes Episode 290: The World of the Wampanoag, Part 1: Before 1620 Episode 291: The World of the Wampanoag, Part 2: 1620 and Beyond Episode 310: Rosalyn LaPier, History of the Blackfeet Episode 314: Colin Calloway, Native Americans in Early American Cities Episode 343: Music and Song in Native North America Episode 353: Brooke Bauer, Women and the Making of Catawba Identity Episode 367: The Brafferton Indian School, Part 1   Series Music WarPaint Singers WarPaint Singers on YouTube  Blue Dot Sessions Listen! Apple Podcasts Spotify Google Podcasts Amazon Music Ben Franklin's World iOS App Ben Franklin's World Android App Helpful Links Join the Ben Franklin's World Facebook Group Ben Franklin's World Twitter: @BFWorldPodcast Ben Franklin's World Facebook Page Sign-up for the Franklin Gazette Newsletter

The Imperial Gridiron: Manhood, Civilization, and Football at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (University of Nebraska Press, 2022) examines the competing versions of manhood at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School between 1879 and 1918. Students often arrived at Carlisle already engrained with Indigenous ideals of masculinity. On many occasions these ideals would come into conflict with the models of manhood created by the school's original superintendent, Richard Henry Pratt. Pratt believed that Native Americans required the “embrace of civilization,” and he emphasized the qualities of self-control, Christian ethics, and retaliatory masculinity. He encouraged sportsmanship and fair play over victory. Pratt's successors, however, adopted a different approach, and victory was enshrined as the main objective of Carlisle sports. As major stars like Jim Thorpe and Lewis Tewanima came to the fore, this change in approach created a conflict over manhood within the school: should the competitive athletic model be promoted, or should Carlisle focus on the more self-controlled, Christian ideal as promoted by the school's Young Men's Christian Association? The answer came from the 1914 congressional investigation of Carlisle. After this grueling investigation, Carlisle's model of manhood starkly reverted to the form of the Pratt years, and by the time the school closed in 1918, the school's standards of masculinity had come full circle. Bennett Koerber is a senior research associate at Taylor Research Group. He can be reached at bennettkoerber@taylorresearchgroup.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

The Imperial Gridiron: Manhood, Civilization, and Football at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (University of Nebraska Press, 2022) examines the competing versions of manhood at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School between 1879 and 1918. Students often arrived at Carlisle already engrained with Indigenous ideals of masculinity. On many occasions these ideals would come into conflict with the models of manhood created by the school's original superintendent, Richard Henry Pratt. Pratt believed that Native Americans required the “embrace of civilization,” and he emphasized the qualities of self-control, Christian ethics, and retaliatory masculinity. He encouraged sportsmanship and fair play over victory. Pratt's successors, however, adopted a different approach, and victory was enshrined as the main objective of Carlisle sports. As major stars like Jim Thorpe and Lewis Tewanima came to the fore, this change in approach created a conflict over manhood within the school: should the competitive athletic model be promoted, or should Carlisle focus on the more self-controlled, Christian ideal as promoted by the school's Young Men's Christian Association? The answer came from the 1914 congressional investigation of Carlisle. After this grueling investigation, Carlisle's model of manhood starkly reverted to the form of the Pratt years, and by the time the school closed in 1918, the school's standards of masculinity had come full circle. Bennett Koerber is a senior research associate at Taylor Research Group. He can be reached at bennettkoerber@taylorresearchgroup.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

The Imperial Gridiron: Manhood, Civilization, and Football at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (University of Nebraska Press, 2022) examines the competing versions of manhood at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School between 1879 and 1918. Students often arrived at Carlisle already engrained with Indigenous ideals of masculinity. On many occasions these ideals would come into conflict with the models of manhood created by the school's original superintendent, Richard Henry Pratt. Pratt believed that Native Americans required the “embrace of civilization,” and he emphasized the qualities of self-control, Christian ethics, and retaliatory masculinity. He encouraged sportsmanship and fair play over victory. Pratt's successors, however, adopted a different approach, and victory was enshrined as the main objective of Carlisle sports. As major stars like Jim Thorpe and Lewis Tewanima came to the fore, this change in approach created a conflict over manhood within the school: should the competitive athletic model be promoted, or should Carlisle focus on the more self-controlled, Christian ideal as promoted by the school's Young Men's Christian Association? The answer came from the 1914 congressional investigation of Carlisle. After this grueling investigation, Carlisle's model of manhood starkly reverted to the form of the Pratt years, and by the time the school closed in 1918, the school's standards of masculinity had come full circle. Bennett Koerber is a senior research associate at Taylor Research Group. He can be reached at bennettkoerber@taylorresearchgroup.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/native-american-studies

The Imperial Gridiron: Manhood, Civilization, and Football at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (University of Nebraska Press, 2022) examines the competing versions of manhood at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School between 1879 and 1918. Students often arrived at Carlisle already engrained with Indigenous ideals of masculinity. On many occasions these ideals would come into conflict with the models of manhood created by the school's original superintendent, Richard Henry Pratt. Pratt believed that Native Americans required the “embrace of civilization,” and he emphasized the qualities of self-control, Christian ethics, and retaliatory masculinity. He encouraged sportsmanship and fair play over victory. Pratt's successors, however, adopted a different approach, and victory was enshrined as the main objective of Carlisle sports. As major stars like Jim Thorpe and Lewis Tewanima came to the fore, this change in approach created a conflict over manhood within the school: should the competitive athletic model be promoted, or should Carlisle focus on the more self-controlled, Christian ideal as promoted by the school's Young Men's Christian Association? The answer came from the 1914 congressional investigation of Carlisle. After this grueling investigation, Carlisle's model of manhood starkly reverted to the form of the Pratt years, and by the time the school closed in 1918, the school's standards of masculinity had come full circle. Bennett Koerber is a senior research associate at Taylor Research Group. He can be reached at bennettkoerber@taylorresearchgroup.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/gender-studies

The Imperial Gridiron: Manhood, Civilization, and Football at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (University of Nebraska Press, 2022) examines the competing versions of manhood at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School between 1879 and 1918. Students often arrived at Carlisle already engrained with Indigenous ideals of masculinity. On many occasions these ideals would come into conflict with the models of manhood created by the school's original superintendent, Richard Henry Pratt. Pratt believed that Native Americans required the “embrace of civilization,” and he emphasized the qualities of self-control, Christian ethics, and retaliatory masculinity. He encouraged sportsmanship and fair play over victory. Pratt's successors, however, adopted a different approach, and victory was enshrined as the main objective of Carlisle sports. As major stars like Jim Thorpe and Lewis Tewanima came to the fore, this change in approach created a conflict over manhood within the school: should the competitive athletic model be promoted, or should Carlisle focus on the more self-controlled, Christian ideal as promoted by the school's Young Men's Christian Association? The answer came from the 1914 congressional investigation of Carlisle. After this grueling investigation, Carlisle's model of manhood starkly reverted to the form of the Pratt years, and by the time the school closed in 1918, the school's standards of masculinity had come full circle. Bennett Koerber is a senior research associate at Taylor Research Group. He can be reached at bennettkoerber@taylorresearchgroup.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/sports

The Imperial Gridiron: Manhood, Civilization, and Football at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (University of Nebraska Press, 2022) examines the competing versions of manhood at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School between 1879 and 1918. Students often arrived at Carlisle already engrained with Indigenous ideals of masculinity. On many occasions these ideals would come into conflict with the models of manhood created by the school's original superintendent, Richard Henry Pratt. Pratt believed that Native Americans required the “embrace of civilization,” and he emphasized the qualities of self-control, Christian ethics, and retaliatory masculinity. He encouraged sportsmanship and fair play over victory. Pratt's successors, however, adopted a different approach, and victory was enshrined as the main objective of Carlisle sports. As major stars like Jim Thorpe and Lewis Tewanima came to the fore, this change in approach created a conflict over manhood within the school: should the competitive athletic model be promoted, or should Carlisle focus on the more self-controlled, Christian ideal as promoted by the school's Young Men's Christian Association? The answer came from the 1914 congressional investigation of Carlisle. After this grueling investigation, Carlisle's model of manhood starkly reverted to the form of the Pratt years, and by the time the school closed in 1918, the school's standards of masculinity had come full circle. Bennett Koerber is a senior research associate at Taylor Research Group. He can be reached at bennettkoerber@taylorresearchgroup.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/american-studies

After a couple of light-hearted episodes, we dive back into the more horrific side of humanity as we take a look at the Army officer behind Native American boarding schools.Podcast to recommend: Wonders of the World (www.wonderspodcast.com)SourcesAdams, David Wallace. Education for Extinction: American Indians and the Boarding School Experience, 1875-1928. Lawrence, KS: U. of Kansas Press, 1995.Child, Brenda. Boarding School Seasons: American Indian Families. Lincoln, NE: U. of Nebraska Press, 2000.Churchill, Ward. Kill the Indian, Save the Man: The Genocidal Impact of American Indian Residential Schools. San Francisco, CA: City Lights, 2004.Hoxie, Frederick. A Final Promise: The Campaign to Assimilate the Indians, 1880-1920. Lincoln, NE: U. of Nebraska Press, 1984.Sa, Zitkala. The School Days of an Indian Girl in the American 1890s. Winston-Salem, NC: Duke U. Press, 2000.Witmer, Linda F. The Indian Industrial School, Carlisle, Pennsylvania, 1879-1918. Carlisle, PA: Cumberland County Historical Society, 1993. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This episode dives into the nightmarish reality of residential schools and their connection to capitalism. Here are some of the issues we discuss:The history of the residential school systemThe connection between residential schools and the militaryHow these facilities promoted capitalist valuesHow residential school allowed for the theft of land“Outing programs” that tried to make Indigenous children into farm laborers and servantsIndigenous erasure and how it was perpetuated by these “schools”Native activismProfessor Jimmy Lee Beason II is a member of the Osage Nation. He is also a Professor in the Indigenous American Indian Studies Department at Haskell University in Lawrence, Kansas – a facility that was once the site of a residential school. Through his work, he's able to share Indigenous history, culture, and values with Native youth and adults. In teaching and mentoring Indigenous students, Jimmy's decolonial work combats the legacy of Indigenous erasure perpetuated by the residential school system across Turtle Island. Follow Jimmy on Instagram @osage_native_scholar and you can find links to his written works and interviews on Linktree.Osage Native Cooler (spirit-free)This spirit-free cocktail is a refreshing non-alcoholic riff on a classic Cooler. Jimmy prefers cucumber and mint but try it with any fruit and herb combination like strawberry and basil or use cilantro instead of mint. A non-alcoholic spirit such as Seedlip helps to add the flavor and body of a alcoholic spirit without any of the booze and can really elevate and add complexity to your favorite spirit-free cocktail. Try finding one—it's worth the effort!Osage Native Cooler60    ml    Non-alcoholic Spirit like Seedlip Garden 10815    ml    Honey or simple sugar syrup22    ml    Fresh Lime Juice6        Slices of fresh cucumber6-8         Mint leaves                 Small pinch of salt1-3        Slices of Jalapeno (optional)            Mineral or carbonated water to top    In a cocktail shaker add the slices of cucumber, jalapeno (if using) and non-alcoholic spirit and muddle very well. Add the rest of the ingredients except the carbonated water and shake with ice. Fine strain into a Collins glass filled with cubed ice. Top with your favorite carbonated water and garnish with a slice of cucumber and mint bouquet.Glassware:      Collins glassGarnish:         Cucumber slice and Mint bouquetABV:             0%Pro Tip: if not using a non-alcoholic spirit, use 35ml of honey or simple sugar syrup, 45ml lime juice, and 30ml of water instead. Support the show

Welcome to Season 2! We talk about our first visit to the Beinecke Library and our initial exploration of the Richard Henry Pratt Papers. We talk about what we did, the kinds of things we found, and all the things we want to get back to and explore some more. Show notes: [https://carlisle-indian-school-research.zencast.website/episodes/episode-23-our-exploration-of-the-richard-henry-pratt-papers] This podcast is powered by ZenCast.fm

In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue, and it's been downhill for New World peoples ever since.  Today we look at residential schools, the occupation of Alcatraz by Indians of All Tribes, the Oka crisis (aka the Mohawk resistance), and Sacheen Littlefeather's Oscar speech. YBOF Book; Audiobook (basically everywhere but Audible); Merch! Hang out with your fellow Brainiacs  .Reach out and touch Moxie on Facebook, Twitter,  or Instagram. Support the show Music by Kevin MacLeod, Steve Oxen, David Fesliyan.   Links to all the research resources are on our website. Late summer, 1990.  The protest had been going on for two months; tensions were escalating.  Soldiers had been dispatched to enforce the government's will, but the Kahnawake Mohawk weren't going to give up another inch of their land.  14 year old Waneek and her 4 year old sister Kaniehtiio were there with their activist mother when the violence started.  Waneek tried to get little Tio to safety when she saw a soldier who had taken her school books from her weeks prior...and he stabbed her in the chest.  My name's...   One of my goals with this podcast is to tell the stories that don't get told, the stories of people of color and women.  It's not always easy.  Pick a topic to research and it's white men all the way down.  But, even when I haven't been struggling with my chronic idiopathic pulmonary conditions, as I've been for the past three acute months, I've dropped the ball.  Mea culpa.  So let me try to catch up a little bit here as we close out November and Native American Heritage month.  And since the lungs are still playing up a bit, I'm tagging past Moxie in to help, though I've done with I can to polish her audio, even though I lost more than 100 episodes worth of work files when I changed computers and deleted the hard drive on my right rather than the hard drive on my left.     Today's episode isn't going to be a knee-slapping snark fest, but the severity of the stories is the precise reason we need to tell them, especially the ones that happened relatively recently but are treated like a vague paragraph in an elementary school textbook.  Come with me now, to the 1960's and the edge of California, to a rocky island in San Francisco bay.  Yes, that one, Alcatraz, the Rock.     After the American Indian Center in San Francisco was destroyed in a fire in October 1969, an activist group called “Indians of All Tribes” turned its attention to Alcatraz island and the prison which had closed six years earlier.  I'm going to abbreviate Indians of All Tribes to IAT, rather than shorten it to Indians, just so you know.  A small party, led by Mohawk college student Richard Oakes, went out to the island on Nov 9, but were only there one night before the authorities removed them.  That didn't disappoint Oakes, who told the SF Chronicle, “If a one day occupation by white men on Indian land years ago established squatter's rights, then the one day occupation of Alcatraz should establish Indian rights to the island.”   11 days later, a much larger group of Indians of All Tribes members, a veritable occupation force of 89 men, women and children, sailed to the island in the dead of night and claimed Alcatraz for all North America natives.  Despite warnings from authorities, the IAT set up house in the old guards' quarters and began liberally, vibrantly redecorating, spray-painting the forboding gray walls with flowers and slogans like “Red Power” and “Custer Had It Coming.”  The water tower read “Peace and Freedom. Welcome. Home of the Free Indian Land.”  And of course I put pictures of that in the Vodacast app.  Have you checked it out?  I'm still getting the hang of it...  The IAT not only had a plan, they had a manifesto, addressed to “The Great White Father and All His People,” in which they declared their intentions to use the island for a school, cultural center and museum.  Alcatraz was theirs, they claimed, “by right of discovery,” though the manifesto did offer to buy the island for “$24 in glass beads and red cloth”—the price supposedly paid for the island of Manhattan.     Rather than risk a PR fall-out, the Nixon administration opted to leave the occupiers alone as long as things remained peaceful and just kinda wait the situation out.  The island didn't even have potable water; how long could the IAT stay there?  Jokes on you, politicians of 50 years ago, because many of the occupiers lived in conditions as bad on reservations.  They'd unknowingly been training for this their entire lives.  Native American college students and activists veritably swarmed the island and the population ballooned to more than 600 people, twice the official capacity of the prison.  They formed a governing body and set up school for the kids, a communal kitchen, clinic, and a security detail called “Bureau of Caucasian Affairs.”  Other activists helped move people and supplies to the island and supportive well-wishers send money, clothes and canned food.    Government officials would travel to the island repeatedly to try, and fail, to negotiate.  The IAT would settle for nothing less than the deed to Alcatraz Island, and the government maintained such a property transfer would be impossible.  The occupation was going better than anyone expected, at least for the first few months.  Then, many of the initial wave of residents had to go back to college and their places were taken by people more interested in no rent and free food than in any cause.  Drugs and alcohol, which were banned, were soon prevalent.  Oakes and his wife left Alcatraz after his stepdaughter died in a fall, and things began to unravel even more quickly.  By May, the sixth month of the occupation, the government dispensed with diplomatic efforts and cut all remaining power to Alcatraz.  Only a few weeks later, a fire tore across the island and destroyed several of Alcatraz's historic buildings.  Federal marshals removed the last occupiers in June of the second year, an impressive 19 months after they first arrived, six men, five women and four children.  This time, when laws were passed after an act of rebellion, they were *for the rebels, which many states enacting laws for tribal self rule.  When Alcatraz opened as a national park in 1973, not only had the graffiti from the occupation not been removed, it was preserved as part of the island's history.   People gather at Alcatraz every November for an “Un-Thanksgiving Day” celebrating Native culture and activism. RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL   The American government took tens of thousands of children from Native families and placed them in boarding schools with strict assimilation practices.  Their philosophy - kill the Indian to save the man.  That was the mindset under which the U.S. government Native children to attend boarding schools, beginning in the late 19th century, when the government was still fighting “Indian wars.”   There had been day and boarding schools on reservations prior to 1870, when U.S. cavalry captain, Richard Henry Pratt established the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania.  This school was not on a reservation, so as to further remove indigenous influences.  The Carlisle school and other boarding schools were part of a long history of U.S. attempts to either kill, remove, or assimilate Native Americans.  “As white population grew in the United States and people settled further west towards the Mississippi in the late 1800s, there was increasing pressure on the recently removed groups to give up some of their new land,” according to the Minnesota Historical Society. Since there was no more Western territory to push them towards, the U.S. decided to remove Native Americans by assimilating them. In 1885, Commissioner of Indian Affairs Hiram Price explained the logic: “it is cheaper to give them education than to fight them.”   Off-reservation schools began their assault on Native cultural identity as soon as students arrived, by first doing away with all outward signs of tribal life that the children brought with them.  The long braids worn by boys were cut off.  Native clothes were replaced with uniforms.  The children were given new Anglicized names, including new surnames.  Traditional Native foods were abandoned, as were things like sharing from communal dishes,  forcing students to use the table manners of white society, complete with silverware, napkins and tablecloths.  The strictest prohibition arguably fell on their native languages.  Students were forbidden to speak their tribal language, even to each other.  Some school rewarded children who spoke only English, but most schools chose the stick over the carrot and relied on punishment to achieve this aim.  This is especially cruel when you consider that many of the words the children were being forced to learn and use had no equivalent in their mother tongue.   The Indian boarding schools taught history with a definite white bias.  Columbus Day was heralded as a banner day in history and a beneficial event for Native people, as it was only after discovery did Native Americans become part of history.  Thanksgiving was a holiday to celebrate “good” Indians having aided the brave Pilgrim Fathers.  On Memorial Day, some students at off-reservation schools were made to decorate the graves of soldiers sent to kill their fathers.   Half of each school day was spent on industrial training. Girls learned to cook, clean, sew, care for poultry and do laundry for the entire institution.  Boys learned industrial skills such as blacksmithing, shoemaking or performed manual labor such as farming.  Not receiving much funding from the government, the schools were required to be as self-sufficient as possible, so students did the majority of the work.  By 1900, school curriculums tilted even further toward industrial training while academics were neglected.   The Carlisle school developed a “placing out system,” which put Native students in the mainstream community for summer or a year at a time, with the official goal of exposing them to more job skills.  A number of these programs were out-right exploitive.  At the Phoenix Indian School, girls became the major source of domestic labor for white families in the area, while boys were placed in seasonal harvest or other jobs that no one else wanted.   Conversion to Christianity was also deemed essential to the cause.  Curriculums included heavy emphasis of religious instruction, such as the Ten Commandments, the Beatitudes and Psalms.  Sunday school meant lectures on sin and guilt.  Christianity governed gender relations at the schools and most schools invested their energy in keeping the sexes apart, in some cases endangering the lives of the students by locking girls in their dormitories at night.     Discipline within the Indian boarding schools was severe and generally consisted of confinement, corporal punishment, or restriction of food.  In addition to coping with the severe discipline, students were ravaged by disease exacerbated by crowded conditions at the boarding schools. Tuberculosis, influenza, and trachoma (“sore eyes”) were the greatest threats.  In December of 1899, measles broke out at the Phoenix Indian School, reaching epidemic proportions by January.  In its wake, 325 cases of measles, 60 cases of pneumonia, and 9 deaths were recorded in a 10-day period.  During Carlisle's operation, from 1879 and 1918, nearly 200 children died and were buried near the school.   Naturally, Indian people resisted the schools in various ways. Sometimes entire villages refused to enroll their children in white schools.  Native parents also banded together to withdraw their children en masse, encouraging runaways, and undermining the schools' influence during summer break.  In some cases, police were sent onto the reservations to seize children from their parents.  The police would continue to take children until the school was filled, so sometimes orphans were offered up or families would negotiate a family quota. Navajo police officers would take children assumed to be less intelligent, those not well cared for, or those physically impaired.  This was their attempt to protect the long-term survival of their tribe by keeping healthy, intelligent children at home.     It was not until 1978, within the lifetime of many of my gentle listeners. that the passing of the Indian Child Welfare Act that Native American parents gained the legal right to deny their children's placement in off-reservation schools.   Though the schools left a devastating legacy, they failed to eradicate Native American cultures as they'd hoped. Later, the Navajo Code Talkers who helped the U.S. win World War II would reflect on the strange irony this forced assimilation had played in their lives.  “As adults, [the Code Talkers] found it puzzling that the same government that had tried to take away their languages in schools later gave them a critical role speaking their languages in military service,” recounts the National Museum of the American Indian.   In addition to documentaries, I'd like to recommend the movie The Education of Little Tree, starring James Cromwell, Tantu Cardinal and Graham Green, about a part-Charokee boy who goes to live with his grandparents in the Tennessee mountains, but is then sent to an Indian school.   There are a number of off-reservation boarding schools in operation today.  Life in the schools is still quite strict, but now includes teaching Native culture and language rather than erasing it.  Though they cannot be separated from their legacy of oppression and cultural violence, for many modern children, they're a step to a better life.  Poverty is endemic to many reservations, which also see much higher than average rates of alcoholism, drug use, and suicide.    For the students, these schools are a chance to escape.   OKA   Some words are visceral reminders of collective historic trauma. “Selma” or “Kent State” recall the civil rights movement and the use of military force against U.S. citizens. “Bloody Sunday” evokes “the Troubles” of Northern Ireland. Within Indigenous communities in North America, the word is “Oka.”  That word reminds us of the overwhelming Canadian response to a small demonstration in a dispute over Mohawk land in Quebec, Canada, in 1990. Over the course of three months, the Canadian government sent 2,000 police and 4,500 soldiers (an entire brigade), backed by armored vehicles, helicopters, jet fighters and even the Navy, to subdue several small Mohawk communities.  What was at stake?  What was worth all this to the government?  A golf course and some condos.   The Kanesetake had been fighting for their land for centuries, trying to do it in accordance with the white man's laws, as far back as appeals to the British government in 1761. In 1851, the governor general of Canada refused to recognize their right to their land.  8 years later, the land was given to the Sulpicians, a Catholic diocese.  In 1868, the government of the nascent Dominion of Canada denied that the Mohawk's original land grant had even reserved land for them, so it wasn't covered under the Indian Act. In the 1910's, the he Mohawks of Kanesatake's appealed all the way to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, Canada's highest appeals court at the time, who ruled that official title to the land was held by the Sulpicians.  By the end of the Second World War, the Sulpicians had sold all of their remaining land and had left the area. Surely the Mohawk could have their land back now!  Nope.  The Mohawk of Kanesatake were now confined to about 2.3mi sq/6 km sq, known as The Pines, less than 1/10th of the land they once held.  The Mohawk people of Kahnawake, Kanesetake and Akwesasne asserted Aboriginal title to their ancestral lands in 1975, but their claim was rejected on the most BS possible reason -- that they had not held the land continuously from time immemorial.  And on and on.   So you can understand why they'd be a little miffed when plans were announced to expand a golf course that had been built in 1961, expanding onto land that was used for sacred and ceremonial purposes and included a graveyard.  Again, the Mohawk tried to use the proper legal channels and again they got royally fucked over.  That March, their protests and petitions were ignored by the City Council in Oka.  They had to do something the city couldn't ignore.  They began a blockade of a small dirt road in The Pines and they maintained it for a few months.  The township of Oka tried to get a court injunction to order its removal.  On July 11, 1990, the Quebec provincial police sent in a large heavily armed force of tactical officers armed with m16s and tear gas and such-like to dismantle this blockade.  The Mohawks met this show of force with a show of their own.  Behind the peaceful protestors, warriors stood armed and ready.     Let me try to give this story some of the air time it deserves.  April 1, 1989, 300 Kanesatake Mohawks marched through Oka to protest against Mayor Jean Ouellette's plan to expand the town's golf course.  On March 10, 1990, --hey, that's my birthday!  the day, not the year-- After Oka's municipal council voted to proceed with the golf course expansion project, a small group of Mohawks barricades the access road.  With a building.  They drug a fishing shack into the Pines and topped it with a banner that read “Are you aware that this is Mohawk territory?” and the same again in French, because Quebec.  There's a picture on the Vodacast app, naturally, as well as a photo called Face to Face is a photograph of Canadian Pte. Patrick Cloutier and Anishinaabe warrior Brad Larocque staring each other down during the Oka Crisis. It was taken on September 1, 1990 by Shaney Komulainen, and has become one of Canada's most famous images.  It really should be more famous outside of Canada, like the lone protestor blocking tanks in Tiananmen Square or 1968 Summer Olympics, Tommie Smith and John Carlos staged a protest and displayed a symbol of Black power during their medal ceremony.  Check it out on Vodacast and let me know if you agree, soc. med.   during the summer of 1990 the Mohawk warrior society engaged in the 78 day armed standoff with the s.q Provincial Police and the Canadian Armed Forces in order to protect an area of their territory from development known as the pines near the town of oka.   This area was used as a tribal cemetery along with other tribal activities important to the Mohawks.  The oka crisis or also known as the Mohawk resistance was a defensive action that gained international attention,  taken by Mohawks of the Kanna Satake reserve along with other Mohawks from the nearby communities of Kanna waka as well as the Aquosasne on a reservation on the American side of the u.s. Canadian colonial border.  It was one of the most recent examples of Native armed resistance that was successful in stopping construction and development on to tribal lands.  So what was being developed that led to this armed confrontation leading to the death of an sq SWAT officer during that hot summer?  Golf.  The town of oka and investors wanted to expand a nine-hole golf course at the Open Golf Club into an 18-hole course as well as build around 60 condominiums into Mohawk territory.  Since 1989 the Mohawks had been protesting these plans for development by the town of oka and investors of the Golf Course expansion.  Seeing that the local courts were not of any help in recognizing Mohawk claims of the land under development, Mohawk protesters and community members held marches rallies and signed petitions.   Eventually the Mohawks set up a barricade blocking access to the development site on a gravel road.  Later on it was occupied mainly by Mohawk women and children OCA's mayor jean wallet one of the nine hole golf course expanded and filed the injunction against the Mohawks. He went into hiding during the oka crisis. [sfx clip] I will occupy this land for what it takes he has to prove it to me that it's his and I will prove it to him that's mine.  Oak is mayor had stated the land in question actually belonged to the town of oka and did not back down from the issue, but instead filed an injunction one of many that had been issued prior to remove the Mohawks from the area and take down the barricades by force if necessary.  if I have to die for Mohawk territory I will but I ain't going alone are you armed no the Creator will provide in anticipation of the raid by the sq mohawks of knesset Aki sent out a distress call to surrounding communiti.  In the Mohawk warrior society from the Aquos austenite reservation and the American side of the Mohawk reserve as well as kana waka have begun filtering into the barricade area with camping gear communications equipment food and weapons.  It's difficult to pin down just who makes up the Warriors society. the leaders an organization you each depending on the circumstances.  the member roles are  treated like a military secret, which is fitting since many or most of the Warriors were veterans, with a particular persistance of Vietnam Marines.   why the Warriors exist is easier to answer   mohawk have closed off the Mercier bridge sparking a traffic nightmare.  Provincial police arrived at dawn secure position in case of Mohawk until 8:00 to clear out.  The natives stood their ground the battle for the barricade started just before nine o'clock on one side heavily armed provincial police bob tear gas and stun grenade power [sfx reporter] a 20-minute gun battle ensued dozens of rounds of ammunition were shot off and then the inevitable someone was hit a police officer took a bullet in the face which proved fatal that seems to turn the tide the police has been advancing until then turned tail and fled leaving six of their vehicles behind.  The Mohawk celebrated when the police left celebrated what they called a victory over the qpm.  Most of the Mohawks each shot that the raid had taken place they said they were angry - angry that a dispute over a small piece of land had ended in violence.  [sfx this clip but earlier] I mean the non-indians that initiated this project of a golf course and then and then trying to take the land away because it's Mohawk clan it's our land there's a little bit left they're sucking the marrow out of our bones.  [sfx this clip, little earlier] we've kept talking in and saying you know what kind of people are you there's children here and you're shooting tear gas at us we're not we're on armed and you're aiming your weapons at us what kind of people are you.     The police retreated, abandoning squad cars and a front-end loader, basically a bulldozer.  They use the loader to crash the vehicles and they push them down the road, creating two new barricades, blocking highway 344.  The Mohawk braced for a counterattack and vowed to fire back with three bullets for every bullet fired at them.  due to the inability of the SQ to deal with the heavily armed Mohawks   The Canadian government called in the Royal Canadian Armed Forces to deal with the Mohawks. As the army pushed further into the Mohawk stronghold there was a lot of tension with Mohawk warriors staring down soldiers getting in their faces taunting them challenging them to put down their weapons and engage in hand-to-hand combat.   this is how the remainder of the siege would play out between the Warriors and Army as there were thankfully no more gun battles. [Music] as the seige wore on and came to an end most of the remaining Warriors as well as some women and children took refuge in a residential treatment center.   instead of an orderly surrender as the army anticipated warriors simply walked out of the area where they were assaulted by waiting soldiers and the police.  50 people taken away from the warrior camp including 23 warriors, but that means right over half the people taken into custody were non-combatants.   by 9:30 that night the army began to pull out, at the end of their two and a half months seige  a number of warriors were later charged by the sq.  5 warriors were convicted of crimes included assault and theft although only one served jail time.  during the standoff the Canadian federal government purchased the pines in order to prevent further development, officially canceling the expansion of the golf course and condominiums.  Although the government bought additional parcels of land for connoisseur taka there has been no organized transfer of the land to the Mohawk people. investigations were held after the crisis was over and revealed problems with the way in which the SQ handled the situation which involved command failures and racism among sq members.   Ronald (Lasagna) Cross and another high-profile warrior, Gordon (Noriega) Lazore of Akwesasne, are arraigned in Saint-Jérôme the day after the last Mohawks ended their standoff. In all, about 150 Mohawks and 15 non-Mohawks were charged with various crimes. Most were granted bail, and most were acquitted. Cross and Lazore were held for nearly six months before being released on $50,000 bail. They were later convicted of assault and other charges. After a community meeting, it was the women who decided that they would walk out peacefully, ending the siege. With military helicopters flying low, spotlights glaring down and soldiers pointing guns at them, Horn-Miller carried her young sister alongside other women and children as they walked to what they thought was the safety of the media barricades.  They didn't make it far before violence broke out. People started running, soldiers tackled warriors, fights broke out and everyone scrambled to get to safety. Up until that point Horn-Miller said she was able to keep her older sister calm by singing a traditional song to her.   LITTLEFEATHER on the night of 27 March 1973. This was when she took the stage at the 45th Academy Awards to speak on behalf of Marlon Brando, who had been awarded best actor for his performance in The Godfather. It is still a striking scene to watch.  Amid the gaudy 70s evening wear, 26-year-old Littlefeather's tasselled buckskin dress, moccasins, long, straight black hair and handsome face set in an expression of almost sorrowful composure, make a jarring contrast.  Such a contrast, that is beggered belief.   Liv Ullman read the name of the winner and Roger Moore made to hand Littlefeather Brando's Oscar, but she held out a politely forbidding hand.  She explained that Brando would not accept the award because of “the treatment of American Indians today by the film industry.”  Some people in the audience applauded; a lot of them booed her, but she kept her calm.  Here, you can listen for yourself.  [sfx clip]  At the time, Wounded Knee, in South Dakota, was the site of a month-long standoff between Native American activists and US authorities, sparked by the murder of a Lakota man.  We're used to this sort of thing now, but on the night, nobody knew what to make of a heartfelt plea in the middle of a night of movie industry mutual masturbation.  Was it art, a prank?  People said Littlefeather was a hired actress, that she was Mexican rather than Apache, or, because people suck on several levels at once, that she was a stripper.  How did this remarkable moment come to pass?   Littlefeather's life was no cake-walk.  Her father was Native American and her mother was white, but both struggled with mental health.  Littlefeather had to be removed from their care at age three, suffering from tuberculosis of the lungs that required her to be kept in an oxygen tent at the hospital.  She was raised by her maternal grandparents, but saw her parents regularly.  That may sound like a positive, but it exposed her to domestic violence.  She once tried to defend her mother from a beating by hitting her father with a broom.  He chased her out of the house and tried to run her down with his truck.  The young girl escaped into a grove of trees and spent the night up in the branches, crying herself to sleep. r   She did not fit in at the white, Catholic school her grandparents sent her to.  At age 12, she and her grandfather visited the historic Roman Catholic church Carmel Mission, where she was horrified to see the bones of a Native American person on display in the museum. “I said: ‘This is wrong. This is not an object; this is a human being.' So I went to the priest and I told him God would never approve of this, and he called me heretic. I had no idea what that was.”  An adolescence of depression and a struggle for identity followed.   Fortunately, in the late 1960s and early 70s Native Americans were beginning to reclaim their identities and reassert their rights.  After her father died, when she was 17, Littlefeather began visiting reservations and even visited Alcatraz during the Indians of all Tribes occupation.  She travelled around the country, learning traditions and dances, and meeting other what she called “urban Indian people” also reconnecting with your heritage.  “The old people who came from different reservations taught us young people how to be Indian again. It was wonderful.”  By her early 20s Littlefeather was head of the local affirmative action committee for Native Americans, studying representation in film, television and sports.  They successfully campaigned for Stanford University to remove their offensive “Indian” mascot, 50 years before pro sports teams like the Cleveland Indians got wise.  At the same time, white celebrities like Burt Lancaster began taking a public interest in Native American affairs.  Littlefeather lived near director Francis Ford Coppola, but she only knew him to say hello.  Nonetheless, after hearing Marlon Brando speaking about Native American rights, as she walked past Coppola's house to find him sitting on his porch, drinking ice tea.  She yelled up the walk, “Hey! You directed Marlon Brando in The Godfather” and she asked him for Brando's address so she could write him a letter.  It took some convincing, but Coppola gave up the address.   Then, nothing.  But months later, the phone rang at the radio station where Littlefeather worked.  He said: ‘I bet you don't know who this is.'  She said, “Sure I do.  It sure as hell took you long enough to call.”  They talked for about an hour, then called each other regularly.  Before long he was inviting her for the first of several visits and they became friends.  That was how Brando came to appoint her to carry his message to the Oscars, but it was hastily planned.  Half an hour before her speech, she had been at Brando's house on Mulholland Drive, waiting for him to finish typing an eight-page speech.  She arrived at the ceremony with Brando's assistant, just minutes before best actor was announced.  The producer of the awards show immediately informed her that she would be removed from the stage after 60 seconds.  “And then it all happened so fast when it was announced that he had won.  I had promised Marlon that I would not touch that statue if he won. And I had promised [the producer] that I would not go over 60 seconds. So there were two promises I had to keep.”  As a result, she had to improvise.   I don't have a lot of good things to say about Marlon Brando --he really could have had a place in the Mixed Bags of History chapter of the YBOF book; audiobook available most places now-- but he had Hollywood dead to rights on its Native Americans stereotypes and treatment, as savages and nameless canon fodder, often played by white people in red face.  This was a message not everyone was willing to hear.  John Wayne, who killed uncountable fictional Natives in his movies, was standing in the wings at that fateful moment, and had to be bodily restrained by security to stop him from charing Littlefeather.  For more on Wayne's views of people of color, google his 1971 Playboy interview.  Clint Eastwood, who presented the best picture Oscar, which also went to The Godfather, “I don't know if I should present this award on behalf of all the cowboys shot in all the John Ford westerns over the years.” In case you thought fussing out an empty chair was the worst we got from him.  When Littlefeather got backstage, people made stereotypical war cries and tomahawk motions at her.  After talking to the press --and I can't say I'm not surprised that event organizers didn't spirit her away immediately -- she went straight back to Brando's house where they sat together and watched the reactions to the event on television, the ‘compulsively refreshing your social media feed' of the 70's.   But Littlefeather is proud of the trail she blazed. She was the first woman of colour, and the first indigenous woman, to use the Academy Awards platform to make a political statement. “I didn't use my fist. I didn't use swear words. I didn't raise my voice. But I prayed that my ancestors would help me. I went up there like a warrior woman. I went up there with the grace and the beauty and the courage and the humility of my people. I spoke from my heart.”  Her speech drew international attention to Wounded Knee, where the US authorities had essentially imposed a media blackout.  Sachee Littlefeather went on to get a degree in holistic health and nutrition, became a health consultant to Native American communities across the country, worked with Mother Teresa caring for Aids patients in hospices, and led the San Francisco Kateri Circle, a Catholic group named after Kateri Tekakwitha, the first Native American saint, canonized in 2012.  Now she is one of the elders transmitting knowledge down generations, though sadly probably not for much longer.  She has breast cancer that metastasized to her lung.  “When I go to the spirit world, I'm going to take all these stories with me. But hopefully I can share some of these things while I'm here.  I'm going to the world of my ancestors. I'm saying goodbye to you … I've earned the right to be my true self.”   And that's...Rather than being taken to the hospital for the stab wound a centimeter from her heart, Waneek and the other protesters were taken into custody.  Thankfully, she would heal just fine and even went on to become an Olympic athlete and continued her activism.  And little Tio?  She grew up to be an award-winning actress, best known in our house for playing Tanis on Letterkenny.  Season 10 premier watch party at my house.  Remember….Thanks...       Sources: https://www.history.com/news/how-boarding-schools-tried-to-kill-the-indian-through-assimilation http://www.nativepartnership.org/site/PageServer?pagename=airc_hist_boardingschools https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=17645287 https://hairstylecamp.com/native-american-beard/ https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2021/jun/03/i-promised-brando-i-would-not-touch-his-oscar-secret-life-sacheen-littlefeather https://www.cbc.ca/radio/unreserved/reflections-of-oka-stories-of-the-mohawk-standoff-25-years-later-1.3232368/sisters-recall-the-brutal-last-day-of-oka-crisis-1.3234550 https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/oka-crisis https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ArOIdwcj2w8 https://www.history.com/news/native-american-activists-occupy-alcatraz-island-45-years-ago  

In this episode I am looking at the Native American Residential Schools here in America.  Ever since June, when the graves of 215 Indigenous School children were found at the site of the Kamloops Residential School in British Columbia and, weeks later, 751 unmarked graves were found at the site of the  Marieval Indian Residential School in  Marieval,  Saskatchewan , attention has been drawn to similar boarding or residential schools for Native Americans here in America.   Although the concept of residential schools can be traced back to 1634 Maryland, they did not gain the support of the U.S. Government until 1879 when Richard Henry Pratt opened the Carlisle Industrial School in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.While it's impossible to teach every good and bad thing in American History in school, I believe we need to look at it all.  As Americans we have a lot to be proud of, but we also have a lot to learn from.  We should be having these conversations.  Maybe not all of them in school but sometime, somewhere, so that we can learn from them.Please don't forget to check out my friends at Kahuna Window Cleaning for all of your home care needs.  If this show brings any value to your day, please consider showing your support.  It would be greatly appreciated.

There is a notion that poisons the minds of many Americans. The myth of Manifest Destiny. The narrative that the vast empty western lands of what we now call the United States was an untamed wild unknown filled with savages that could only be settled by a truly civilized people. In recent weeks, there has been breaking news from Canada that unmarked mass graves have been found near what were knows as “residential schools”. These “schools” were boarding facilities with a long-standing partnership between religious institutions and national governments. Their goal was to isolate Indigenous youth from their families erase their customs and language and assimilate them to the dominant culture.   In the United States, Col. Richard Henry Pratt was maybe the most impactful figure of the off-reservation schools. His goal was that of complete assimilation. His motto that became that of the system, “Kill the Indian, Save the Man”. In this episode of THIS IS REVOLUTION, we'll take a deep dive into the insidious nature of the residential schools in the US as well as Canada with historian John Gram.   About John Gram (From his website https://johnrgram.blogspot.com/): Dr. Gram's research and teaching interests focus on the political, social, and cultural consequences of US expansion during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. His current research agenda examines the process of indigenous identity formation under the pressures of settler colonialism, as well as the processes by which the United States incorporated frontier and borderland regions. He is the author of Education At the Edge of Empire: Negotiating Pueblo Identity in New Mexico's Indian Boarding Schools (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2015). He also has a blog, “Telegrams”   Thank you, guys, again for taking the time to check this out. We appreciate each and every one of you. If you have the means, and you feel so inclined, BECOME A PATRON! We're creating patron only programing, you'll get bonus content from many of the episodes, and you get MERCH!   Become a patron now https://www.patreon.com/join/BitterLakePresents? Please also like, subscribe, and follow us on these platforms as well, (specially YouTube!)   THANKS Y'ALL YouTube: www.youtube.com/thisisrevolutionpodcast www.twitch.tv/thisisrevolutionpodcast www.twitch.tv/leftflankvets   Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Thisisrevolutionpodcast/ Twitter: @TIRShowOakland Instagram: @thisisrevolutionoakland   The Dispatch on Zero Books (video essay series): https://youtu.be/nSTpCvIoRgw   Medium: https://jasonmyles.medium.com/kill-the-poor-f9d8c10bc33d   Pascal Robert's Black Agenda Report: https://www.blackagendareport.com/author/Pascal Robert   Get THIS IS REVOLUTION Merch here: www.thisisrevolutionpodcast.com

Presented and produced by Seán Delaney. On this week's podcast I speak to Professor Gregory Cajete from Santa Clara Pueblo and the University of New Mexico about indigenous education and what contemporary western education can learn from such rich traditions. Among the topics we discuss are: Belonging to the Tewa tribe and what is particular about that tribe. Numbers in different tribes such as the Navajo, Cherokee, the Hopi and the Tewa. Being the first member of his family to attend public school Previously native Americans would have attended federal boarding schools (created by Pratt), with a basic academic curriculum Professor Cajete refers to “Charles Pratt” but this may be a mistaken reference to Richard Henry Pratt, to whom the expression “Kill the Indian, save the man” was attributed. Tribal College Union established in the 1970s (36 colleges – like first and second year of colleges; giving 2-year degrees) Defining indigenous education: Distinction between native American students attending US public schools (including the Bureau of Indian affair schools and religious denominational schools) – education as assimilation versus traditional indigenous education including stories, history, customs and language of the people. Relationality as the basis of indigenous education – developing a relationship to the place in which we live In indigenous education people ask the question, “how am I related to this?” versus the predominant “western” question “What is this?” Currently attempts are being made to introduce native American language, culture and traditions into US public schools Epistemology (how we come to know what we know) of indigenous education involves storytelling, ceremony, participation in community, rhythm and dance. Axiology (what is the focus of/what has value in?) of indigenous education is about establishing a balanced relationship with your environment, including human and other-than-human entities; a place-based world view (based on where you live). Logic of indigenous education is ecological and is one of balanced interdependence. It is part of an understanding that everything you do impacts everything around you. The Lakota people say “We are all related.” The “intractable conflict” between indigenous education and public school education in the United States Why the curriculum focused on subject-matter is object-focused and parts-oriented whereas native education is ecological, sustainable and holistic. Shortcomings of the subject-based curriculum include that it doesn’t teach for relationality or about the ecological mandate, the pre-requisite for sustainability; these are “specialised fields” whereas in indigenous education, you learn these from the day you’re born and reinforced consistently throughout one’s lifetime. Consequently you acquire a life-centred focus. Many native artists are entrepreneurial while maintaining a traditional viewpoint. An economic focus is on benefiting the community, not just oneself. Gary Nabhan is not native American but he writes about native forms of agriculture. Enrique Salmón too has written on this topic. Books Greg Cajete has written: Look to the Mountain Igniting the Sparkle: An Indigenous Science Education Model. Native Science: Natural Laws of Interdependence  Spirit of the Game. Indigenous Community: Rekindling the teachings of the seventh fire. Native Minds Rising: Exploring Transformative Indigenous Education Sacred Journeys: Personal visions of indigenous transformation Values that underpin indigenous education O. Wilson’s biophilic sensibility – caring and empathy for each other, caring and empathy for the natural world and caring and empathy for your soul The indigenous stages of developmental learning; finding the essence of your soul. Question: What does it mean to become a full human being? Chant: One must first find one’s face (you identity), one must then find one’s heart, finally one must find one’s foundation (what you stand on) in the context of relationship, responsibility, respect and resonance, with one’s self, one’s community, one’s place, then with one’s world, within the context of your relationship with the cosmos.

This week, Kate is once again joined by Jim Gerencser to begin to explore the incoming correspondece files from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. In this episode we are focusing on the difficulties the school's founder, Richard Henry Pratt, had in obtaining needed supplies and funds as the school opened. Show notes for this episode: https://carlisleindianschoolresearch.com/podcast/2021/3/9/episode-13 This podcast is powered by ZenCast.fm

In this episode I share my research about the family, youth, and military career of Richard Henry Pratt, the founder of the Carlisle Indian School. For complete show notes visit: https://carlisleindianschoolresearch.com/podcast/2019/10/25/episode-3-youth-and-military-career-of-richard-henry-pratt This podcast is powered by ZenCast.fm

Anyone who’s turned on the television in the past several decades is familiar with the ubiquitous before-and-after picture. On the left, your present state: undesirable, out of shape, balding perhaps. Add ingredient X – maybe a fad diet or a hair transplant – and the picture on the right shows your new and improved future. While this visual juxtaposition might seem harmless enough – save for the whole manipulative advertising thing – it has a rather more nefarious history in the United States, bound intimately, like so much, with the question of race. The before-and-after pictures were a favorite of Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the pioneering Carlisle Indian School, where in the late 19th and early 20th century, Native American children from the recently pacified West were brought thousands of miles to a military base outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Haggard by the exhausting and traumatic train ride, Pratt’s photographer would snap the “before” picture, using props and bad lighting to emphasize the alleged “savagery” of the newly arrived children. Months later, once the students were fitted in contemporary Euroamerican fashion, their hair cut short, and illuminated by soft-lighting, the “after” photo was snapped. These dual images – attesting to the supposedly civilizing effects of the boarding school – were distributed to government elites and the American public, proof that the indigenous population of the continent could be molded in the image of the white settler. In his impressive new book, The Art of Americanization at the Carlisle Indian School (University of New Mexico Press, 2011) Hayes Peter Mauro brings to bear his considerable skills as an art historian and critical theorist to deconstruct the visual culture produced at Carlisle. Placing them squarely in the context of triumphalist American myths and the popular pseudo-science of race, Mauro uses these photographs to ask powerful questions and arrive at some unsettling answers. It is a fascinating work, illuminating not only the troubling culture of the federal assimilation project, but the power of the image to mold both the observer and the observed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Anyone who’s turned on the television in the past several decades is familiar with the ubiquitous before-and-after picture. On the left, your present state: undesirable, out of shape, balding perhaps. Add ingredient X – maybe a fad diet or a hair transplant – and the picture on the right shows your new and improved future. While this visual juxtaposition might seem harmless enough – save for the whole manipulative advertising thing – it has a rather more nefarious history in the United States, bound intimately, like so much, with the question of race. The before-and-after pictures were a favorite of Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the pioneering Carlisle Indian School, where in the late 19th and early 20th century, Native American children from the recently pacified West were brought thousands of miles to a military base outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Haggard by the exhausting and traumatic train ride, Pratt’s photographer would snap the “before” picture, using props and bad lighting to emphasize the alleged “savagery” of the newly arrived children. Months later, once the students were fitted in contemporary Euroamerican fashion, their hair cut short, and illuminated by soft-lighting, the “after” photo was snapped. These dual images – attesting to the supposedly civilizing effects of the boarding school – were distributed to government elites and the American public, proof that the indigenous population of the continent could be molded in the image of the white settler. In his impressive new book, The Art of Americanization at the Carlisle Indian School (University of New Mexico Press, 2011) Hayes Peter Mauro brings to bear his considerable skills as an art historian and critical theorist to deconstruct the visual culture produced at Carlisle. Placing them squarely in the context of triumphalist American myths and the popular pseudo-science of race, Mauro uses these photographs to ask powerful questions and arrive at some unsettling answers. It is a fascinating work, illuminating not only the troubling culture of the federal assimilation project, but the power of the image to mold both the observer and the observed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Anyone who’s turned on the television in the past several decades is familiar with the ubiquitous before-and-after picture. On the left, your present state: undesirable, out of shape, balding perhaps. Add ingredient X – maybe a fad diet or a hair transplant – and the picture on the right shows your new and improved future. While this visual juxtaposition might seem harmless enough – save for the whole manipulative advertising thing – it has a rather more nefarious history in the United States, bound intimately, like so much, with the question of race. The before-and-after pictures were a favorite of Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the pioneering Carlisle Indian School, where in the late 19th and early 20th century, Native American children from the recently pacified West were brought thousands of miles to a military base outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Haggard by the exhausting and traumatic train ride, Pratt’s photographer would snap the “before” picture, using props and bad lighting to emphasize the alleged “savagery” of the newly arrived children. Months later, once the students were fitted in contemporary Euroamerican fashion, their hair cut short, and illuminated by soft-lighting, the “after” photo was snapped. These dual images – attesting to the supposedly civilizing effects of the boarding school – were distributed to government elites and the American public, proof that the indigenous population of the continent could be molded in the image of the white settler. In his impressive new book, The Art of Americanization at the Carlisle Indian School (University of New Mexico Press, 2011) Hayes Peter Mauro brings to bear his considerable skills as an art historian and critical theorist to deconstruct the visual culture produced at Carlisle. Placing them squarely in the context of triumphalist American myths and the popular pseudo-science of race, Mauro uses these photographs to ask powerful questions and arrive at some unsettling answers. It is a fascinating work, illuminating not only the troubling culture of the federal assimilation project, but the power of the image to mold both the observer and the observed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Anyone who’s turned on the television in the past several decades is familiar with the ubiquitous before-and-after picture. On the left, your present state: undesirable, out of shape, balding perhaps. Add ingredient X – maybe a fad diet or a hair transplant – and the picture on the right shows your new and improved future. While this visual juxtaposition might seem harmless enough – save for the whole manipulative advertising thing – it has a rather more nefarious history in the United States, bound intimately, like so much, with the question of race. The before-and-after pictures were a favorite of Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the pioneering Carlisle Indian School, where in the late 19th and early 20th century, Native American children from the recently pacified West were brought thousands of miles to a military base outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Haggard by the exhausting and traumatic train ride, Pratt’s photographer would snap the “before” picture, using props and bad lighting to emphasize the alleged “savagery” of the newly arrived children. Months later, once the students were fitted in contemporary Euroamerican fashion, their hair cut short, and illuminated by soft-lighting, the “after” photo was snapped. These dual images – attesting to the supposedly civilizing effects of the boarding school – were distributed to government elites and the American public, proof that the indigenous population of the continent could be molded in the image of the white settler. In his impressive new book, The Art of Americanization at the Carlisle Indian School (University of New Mexico Press, 2011) Hayes Peter Mauro brings to bear his considerable skills as an art historian and critical theorist to deconstruct the visual culture produced at Carlisle. Placing them squarely in the context of triumphalist American myths and the popular pseudo-science of race, Mauro uses these photographs to ask powerful questions and arrive at some unsettling answers. It is a fascinating work, illuminating not only the troubling culture of the federal assimilation project, but the power of the image to mold both the observer and the observed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Anyone who’s turned on the television in the past several decades is familiar with the ubiquitous before-and-after picture. On the left, your present state: undesirable, out of shape, balding perhaps. Add ingredient X – maybe a fad diet or a hair transplant – and the picture on the right shows your new and improved future. While this visual juxtaposition might seem harmless enough – save for the whole manipulative advertising thing – it has a rather more nefarious history in the United States, bound intimately, like so much, with the question of race. The before-and-after pictures were a favorite of Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the pioneering Carlisle Indian School, where in the late 19th and early 20th century, Native American children from the recently pacified West were brought thousands of miles to a military base outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Haggard by the exhausting and traumatic train ride, Pratt’s photographer would snap the “before” picture, using props and bad lighting to emphasize the alleged “savagery” of the newly arrived children. Months later, once the students were fitted in contemporary Euroamerican fashion, their hair cut short, and illuminated by soft-lighting, the “after” photo was snapped. These dual images – attesting to the supposedly civilizing effects of the boarding school – were distributed to government elites and the American public, proof that the indigenous population of the continent could be molded in the image of the white settler. In his impressive new book, The Art of Americanization at the Carlisle Indian School (University of New Mexico Press, 2011) Hayes Peter Mauro brings to bear his considerable skills as an art historian and critical theorist to deconstruct the visual culture produced at Carlisle. Placing them squarely in the context of triumphalist American myths and the popular pseudo-science of race, Mauro uses these photographs to ask powerful questions and arrive at some unsettling answers. It is a fascinating work, illuminating not only the troubling culture of the federal assimilation project, but the power of the image to mold both the observer and the observed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Anyone who’s turned on the television in the past several decades is familiar with the ubiquitous before-and-after picture. On the left, your present state: undesirable, out of shape, balding perhaps. Add ingredient X – maybe a fad diet or a hair transplant – and the picture on the right shows your new and improved future. While this visual juxtaposition might seem harmless enough – save for the whole manipulative advertising thing – it has a rather more nefarious history in the United States, bound intimately, like so much, with the question of race. The before-and-after pictures were a favorite of Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the pioneering Carlisle Indian School, where in the late 19th and early 20th century, Native American children from the recently pacified West were brought thousands of miles to a military base outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Haggard by the exhausting and traumatic train ride, Pratt’s photographer would snap the “before” picture, using props and bad lighting to emphasize the alleged “savagery” of the newly arrived children. Months later, once the students were fitted in contemporary Euroamerican fashion, their hair cut short, and illuminated by soft-lighting, the “after” photo was snapped. These dual images – attesting to the supposedly civilizing effects of the boarding school – were distributed to government elites and the American public, proof that the indigenous population of the continent could be molded in the image of the white settler. In his impressive new book, The Art of Americanization at the Carlisle Indian School (University of New Mexico Press, 2011) Hayes Peter Mauro brings to bear his considerable skills as an art historian and critical theorist to deconstruct the visual culture produced at Carlisle. Placing them squarely in the context of triumphalist American myths and the popular pseudo-science of race, Mauro uses these photographs to ask powerful questions and arrive at some unsettling answers. It is a fascinating work, illuminating not only the troubling culture of the federal assimilation project, but the power of the image to mold both the observer and the observed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices