Zionism, An Indigenous Struggle: Aboriginal Americans and the Jewish State
This is the first in a series of articles collated by Nathan Elberg & Machla Abramovitz, the editors of Zionism, An Indigenous Struggle: Aboriginal Americans and the Jewish State.
Foreword by Machla Abramovitz
How is one’s indigenous connection to a land expressed? For many Jews, it is by reclaiming their ancestral land after centuries of exile. Despite the political turmoil greeting Jews there and which remains a constant struggle, the land welcomed these early pioneers back with open arms. Its very soil responded to their touch and care: Its deserts bloomed and continues even today to produce and develop providing not only for the needs of its residents, but for a world that is increasingly partaking in its technological development and growth.
As well, Israelis created a democracy that is open and free, and yet decidedly Jewish. However, Israel’s need to integrate an ancient culture with the ever-evolving needs of a modern society remains a constant challenge. Within this multicultural society, issues of identity persist not only in the political sphere but the religious and cultural ones, as well.
Despite these challenges, Israelis retain a strong sense of identity borne of a deep-rooted religious culture and value system realized to its fullest on the fertile soils of their ancestral homeland. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about many Aboriginal Americans. Scattered across North America in their ancestral lands, many struggle to rediscover their “real selves” within societies—Aboriginal and nonaboriginal—whose way of life remains far removed from their ancient ways. In a 1984 paper he delivered at the 4th Inuit Studies Conference in Montreal, co-editor Nathan Elberg quoted the poignant words of a young Inuk (Eskimo) that well-articulated his people’s struggles, which continue to this day.
“That Inuit culture had certain values that it inevitably was going to lose. We are in the process of losing it completely. We seem to be heading in a direction where everything is being computerized, where everything [is moving towards] the space age. So, if we want to survive, we had better be a part of that system. It’s so sad, but that’s the way it is. Even the oldest Inuk today, even though not entirely Inuk, I call him Inuk, even though other people call him Inuk, even though he claims that he is Inuk, that does not give him the right to call me “qalluna” [white man]. He’s right in some respects, but I can counterattack him by saying that he has lost his culture also because his father was greater than him. It’s like saying the past was the best, and the future is the worst.”
For Elberg, this collection of essays synthesizes two distinct political and social cultures that are deeply meaningful to him: Zionism, which is rooted in his Jewish upbringing, and that of Aboriginal Americans, many of whom he came to know and appreciate personally. As an anthropologist, he not only studied aboriginal culture but experienced it, as well: In the 1970s and 1980s, he lived amongst the Cree Indians in the Quebec North’s James Bay region; the Eskimos in the Quebec North’s Hudson Bay region; and among the Inuit of Labrador. He maintains friendships with several of them.
One of his most extended stays was during the frigid winter of 1981. While doing fieldwork in the James Bay region for a research project, he resided with Bobby, one of his Cree friends and his extended family—they were 17 to a “mijwap” (tipi)—about 500 miles from the nearest road. They lived in the forest and were dependent on hunting and fishing for their sustenance. Elberg didn’t have any expectations as to what it would be like living there. “It was just a matter of experiencing it. It was a different way of life; it was a different way of looking at life. It was more a matter of direct experience of the world, rather than experiencing the world as mediated by a philosophy.”
Several years before—in November 1975—the governments of Canada and Quebec and representatives of the Cree signed the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement that financially compensated them for the governments’ hydroelectric development on Cree lands, and gave them limited rights and protection. Because the land was to be flooded to accommodate a newly-built dam, Bobby’s family decided to trap all the fur-bearing animals possible reasoning that since the animals were going to die anyway, it was best to harvest their meat for food and pelts for sale. The Cree, Elberg explains, didn’t see this as a business opportunity; rather, as an extension of their way of life, since hunting animals is part of the Crees’ everyday experience. This experience starts early: The baby girl residing in their tipi nonchalantly played with her toy—a dead rabbit.
Much of Elberg’s time was spent helping set trap lines and checking on them. He had no problem doing this; he expected as much knowing that the Cree were dependent on these animals for their survival. He volunteered to butcher a dead beaver and felt honored when given its forelegs as a thank-you.
Life was hard. With the temperature hovering at below 40 degrees Celsius, he often accompanied Bobby to check the fish, as well as the animal lines. Bobby’s capacity to withstand the cold astonished him. In the frigid air, Bobby stuck his bare hands under water, pulling out a bit of the net at a time, removing the fish one by one, and then putting the net back into the water. “Aren’t your hands frozen,” Elberg inquired after an hour of continuous work. “The water is warmer than the air, so it’s not a problem,” he answered.
The community, which consisted of about 700–800 people, was welcoming. It was also self-contained maintaining minimal contact with the outside world. There was only one radiotelephone; those who wanted to use it needed to go through an operator who connected them to another operator in Alma, Quebec who, in turn, connected them to a telephone line. Only one person could talk at a time, and anyone on the radio network could listen in on the conversation. Newspapers and radios were rare, and there were no televisions. Adding to the difficulties, the children attended the infamous residential schools run by missionaries out to expunge native culture.
Problems with alcoholism abounded. While there, Elberg befriended Walter, a pleasant, easy-going fifteen-year-old. Years later, while inebriated, Walter ran over two of his children while backing out of his driveway. Elberg doesn’t know how much of this heavy drinking still goes on; many communities have since become dry zones and no longer allow alcohol into their communities.
The Inuit and Cree saw themselves then—and many still do so today—as living between two worlds: The assimilationist world of the missionaries—many Indians and Inuit became Christians—and the ways of their parents and ancestors, which appeared less relevant as modernity took hold. This dichotomy led to generational conflicts, as well as to a crisis of identity.
In his 1984 paper, Elberg notes the following:
“Younger Inuit are criticized by their elders for not being knowledgeable hunters, not knowing how to build a snow house, or not speaking the language properly. These youths listen to the words of the people they revere and feel ashamed, humiliated, inferior. They are told they are not real. This issue of “real Inuit” was raised by young Inuit (under forty) when I conducted fieldwork in a northern Quebec community in 1980–81. These people were astonished that I wanted to speak to them to conduct cultural research. Many told me, “It’s usually the older people who get spoken to, who get asked the questions.” They were hesitant, saying they were not used to talking about their way of life. One person, even though he was constantly sought by older people as a hunting companion because of his skills when I interviewed him about hunting, said that he “came a bit too late,” because many of the skilled hunters had passed away. He was surprised that I talked to him, rather than a “real hunter, about that subject.”” Moreover, the younger people, regardless of their chronological age, see themselves as five-years-old in Inuit time, as that was the age when they began attending the white man’s schools and stopped learning Aboriginal ways.
Westerners, Elberg maintains, generally misunderstand Aboriginals, viewing them as culturally homogenous when nothing can be further from the truth. The West Coast Indians, for example, created sophisticated, advanced social organizations, while the Northern Quebec Cree maintained simpler social structures. “Pre-contact [with the white man] Native Americans were very much on the move. There was much warfare between them; these simple ideas that we like to project of a noble savage aren’t true,” he says.
Indians and the Eskimos constantly warred against each other. In the early days of the fur trade in the James Bay area, the Cree captured Eskimos as slaves. Mentalities have since changed. In one Hudson’s Bay community, the Cree and Inuit lived apart from one another despite physically living side by side: today, they co-exist, and even pray together in a new, beautifully designed church.
Westerners also tend to patronize Aboriginals, believing that they are incapable of speaking for themselves, according to Elberg. However, there are many effective spokespeople, activists, lawyers, hunters, businesspeople, professionals and government ministers among them. Furthermore, we often place native people into slots of our own making. We see them either as victims and objects of our pity, as entertainment, or as spiritual masters who can teach us about mother earth and the environment, instead of just letting them be who they are.
These expectations infected way too many of them who ended up fulfilling the roles written for them. The Inuit, he says, are highly intelligent—you need to be very smart to survive those conditions— and yet tragically, far too few are given the opportunity to apply their innate intelligence in meaningful ways. Far too many Aboriginals, in general, live on transfer payments and make-work jobs created by the Federal government. There is, as well, rampant corruption, as heads of some communities often direct Federal monies and jobs to themselves and their families. “I hope they don’t go down the path of perpetual victimhood. I hope they go the way of working with their abilities and strengths. With the James Bay Agreement, the Cree are now on that path; I hope they continue that way,” Elberg states.
The collection of articles in this publication examine the relation between Native American and Jewish issues, focusing on the perceived attempt to hijack the Native American struggle for rights and recognition into the framework of Palestinian suffering. Native Americans are viewed as the quintessential victims, having suffered genocide, theft of lands and consequent marginalization. This fits into the casting of the Palestinians as victims of colonialism and oppression…many Native Americans aren’t interested in perpetually playing the victim. It doesn’t fit their traditions or values. And while they may have been downtrodden in the past, they don’t want that to define their future. They want to make their own lives.
