Wasáse and the Rebirth of Red Power

Taiaiake Alfred

Several months ago, shortly after first meeting up with, and joining, the New Socialist Group here in Canada I had my first encounter with a new breed of indigenous radicalism, the writings and teachings of Mohawk (Kanien’Kahake) scholar and activist Taiaiake Alfred. As the child of a veteran of the original Red Power movement in the 1960s and 70s I saw Alfred’s writings, and the emergence Wasáse Movement based on them, as something to be celebrated, reflected up, nurtured and debated. Natives and settlers alike should celebrate the emergence of Wasáse for it represents for the first time in decades the development of an autonomous, radical and dynamic new voice of indigenous resistance in North America. The Alfred and Wasáse are the true heirs of the original Red Power. However at the same time they have also already taken significant steps beyond that movement, and its constraints, most particularly in its embrace of indigenous feminism. For those of us in the Native communities of North America we know that to have confronted the issue of sexual violence is testimony to the courage of the movement’s originators.

Further, one of the most important developements has been the movement’s willingness to identify outright with anti-capitalism, something which puts it in synch with the most important movements  striving for global justice today. This again also helps seperate it from the ghosts of the past, particularly those of activists like Russell Means who speak of anti-capitalism but who also then pal around with organizations like the Liberatarian Party. The movement has also broken new grounds with its readiness to learn from and adapt the tactics of ungovernability from indigenous struggles in Ecuador, Bolivia and Mexico. This signifies within the movement an inspiring transnationalist impulse. The same is true of the willingness to identify issues of class inequality and working class interests within indigenous communities.

Bundled up in Wasáse is a potent mix of radical and progressive politics, from the the anti-colonial theorizing of Frantz Fanon, radical socialism, indigenous feminism, class and anti- racist analysis. This is where the need for reflection comes in. Real movements for radical and progressive change need to have an enduring commitment to a deepening analysis and popular education. It is inevitable that over the course of revolutionary struggle that new challenges to theory and practice will emerge and perspectives must be refined, early formulations revisited and reworked. Alfred’s notion of “critical traditionalism” gets right to the very heart of this. Wasáse and Alfred embraces crucial indigenous traditions, but they do so in a critical spirit, one in which tradition is reworked in order to be a living force in the present.

After celebration and reflection comes the need for nurturing. All living, breathing revolutionary movements require that others engage it in the spirit of patient encouragement and attention. Individual radicals also need to find hope and energy through their participation in the new movement. They need to know that their contributions are valued, and that they are listened to. It also goes without saying that everyone involved needs inspiration derived from collective work. Authentic movements need the energizing effects of solidarity in struggle. They need to test what alliances work, and which tactics fortify activists.

The final factor, debate, underpins all the other three. This is because after all, every individual activist brings to the mix their own partial experiences and thoughts. These experiences and thoughts, leavened by memory, history and analysis, contribute to the picture of the world with which the movement operates. But how these pieces fit together, what can best be learned from them requires an unceasing conversation and debate. And none of this is possible without open, democratic, participatory processes. It is with all four of these in mind that I posting, with updates, this review of Taiaiake Alfred’s latest book, Wasáse: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom, that I wrote some time ago but never posted.

I begin this review by posing to you, the reader, two initial questions. Firstly, what would a politics of Native contention and resurgence rooted in a philosophy of anarcho-indigenism look like? Secondly, what does a term like anarcho-indigenism even mean? In his 2005 book Wasáse: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom, Kanien’kehaka (Mohawk) scholar and activist Taiaiake Alfred attempts to answer these questions, and more. In Wasáse Alfred undertakes the task of articulating a provocative, challenging, and  ultimately hopeful vision of what just such a politics would be like. According to Alfred “Wasáse” is a Rotinoshonni (Haudenosaunee Six Nations) war ritual, the Thunder Dance (Wasáse: 19). In the context of Alfred’s radical project “Wasáse” is re-imagined as a new way of thinking about a Native politics of contention and resurgence. It is this radically contentious spirit that gives life to Alfred’s writing and to his vision of socio-political struggle and the possibility of radical change.

The ideas put forward in Wasáse, to say the least of them, are challenging and provocative. The book and its author aim at nothing less than the development of a new and radical politics of Native contention, one that is firmly rooted in the regeneration and resurgence of Onkwehonwe (oon-gway-hoon-way: a Mohawk word used by Alfred, it roughly means “first people”) existence, and in the destruction of the reality imposed on Onkwehonwe by the colonialist system and global imperialism. However before going any further with this review it is necessary to address one central issue in Alfred’s writings, and that is that Alfred’s work is unapologetically directed and geared towards Native peoples as its primary audience. With this in mind, Alfred’s revolutionary political vision is directed towards the goal of inspiring in Onkwehonwe people a radical resurgence, and towards that end Alfred’s words are meant to resonate most within Onkwehonwe communities themselves. While as an indigenous person myself his words and ideas do indeed resonate deeply with me, it goes without saying that for those who are non-indigenous, but who nevertheless express a strong affinity for the kind of radical, anti-capitalist, anti-colonial, and anti-imperialist politics Alfred espouses, approaching his ideas and engaging them faithfully requires accepting that in some ways this work is not primarily meant for them. As Alfred notes in his opening pages, “If non-indigenous readers are capable of listening, they will learn from these shared words, and they will discover that while we are envisioning a new relationship between Onkwehonwe and the land, we are at the same time offering a decolonized alternative to the Settler society by inviting them to share our vision of respect and peaceful coexistence” (ibid., 35). Because of this de-centring of what is the so often assumed normative subject (white, male, heterosexual), the text is made to be both experientially, as well as politically, challenging and revelatory to the non-Native reader. The text then implicitly poses the question of whether or not non-Native, yet politically sympathetic individuals, can learn to listen and value radically different perspectives that challenge the very foundations of their contemporary social existences, particularly in the Americas? More importantly, can they find ways to take up Alfred’s offer and move toward building new relationships not premised on colonial histories and domination, and not built upon a politics which privileges Euro-American traditions? The fact that there are non-Natives engaging with Alfred and his work is in of itself a success I believe.

In terms of his advocacy of a politics of Native resurgence, Alfred notes that the central challenge facing Native peoples today is that of “regaining freedom and becoming self-sufficient by confronting the disconnection and fear at the core of our existences under colonial domination” (ibid., 20). For Alfred it is only after this regeneration and resurgence has occurred that a true reshaping of Onkwehonwe-Settler relationships can begin to take place. The emphasis that Alfred places upon both personal and communal transformation is significant and is not in any way discrete from the anti-colonial and anti-imperial struggle he envisions. One of the most radical components of Alfred’s political vision for Native transformation and resurgence is that it is also explicitly an anti-statist one. Alfred rightly has nothing but contempt for what he calls “Aboriginalism” and other “paths of least resistance”, which he sees as the “end game” of assimilatory practices, the “terminological and psychic displacement of authentic indigenous identities, beliefs, and behaviours with one designed by Indian Department bureaucrats, government lawyers, and judges to complete the imperial objective of exterminating Onkwehonwe presences from the social and political landscape” (ibid.,126). In this sense Alfred is unapologetically combative and he sees absolutely no value in the strategies of negotiation and collaboration within social and political relations as they are currently constituted in the North American settler-colonial states. This position is one that evokes many of the anarchist and anarchist-inspired currents within the contemporary global justice and global anti-capitalist movements. It also one that resonates very deeply with the political philosophy of the Zapatista movement in Chiapas, Mexico, a movement which Alfred sees as being an exemplary manifestation of a powerful Native resurgence. Combining these elements together has lead Alfred to the formulation of what he calls anarcho-indigenism, a concept which he unpacks by elaborating on each of these terms: “indigenous, evoking cultural and spiritual rootedness in this land and the Onkwehonwe struggle for justice and freedom, and the political philosophy and movement that is fundamentally anti-institutional, radically democratic, and committed to taking action to force change: anarchism” (ibid., 45).

Subcomandante Marcos of the EZLN

Another major issue that Alfred confronts within the pages of Wasáse is that of the role of violence, or armed struggle, within the Native liberation movement. As with a great many debates surrounding issues of radical change today, and particularly in a post-9/11 era, the spectre of violence looms ever-present on the margins of Alfred’s politics of contention. It is most certainly to his credit that he does not in anyway shy away from engaging this issue.  In brief, while Alfred does not reject violence as an element within a larger social struggle, neither does he valorize it. Rather, he situates it within the context of a necessary capacity for armed self-defence, which he explains by saying, “I believe there is a need for morally grounded defiance and non-violent agitation combined with the development of a collective capacity for self-defence, so as to generate within the Settler society a reason and incentive to negotiate constructively in the interest of achieving a respectful coexistence” (ibid., 27). Alfred’s position both avoids the dogmatism of pacifism as well as that of those who would advocate a philosophy of social change predicated on solely on guerilla warfare. This places Alfred and his views in direct opposition to Native activists like Ward Churchill, who advocate armed struggle as the only way to end the oppression on Native peoples. The role of violence in Alfred’s political vision addresses the reality that even in “liberal-democratic societies” the violence of the state and elite interests is frequently mobilized against dissident groups, while simultaneously acknowledging that these are also often places where the logic of armed revolution holds very little sway. In Alfred’s perspective in order for truly radical social change to occur, there needs to be a consistency between ends and means, a position also evocative of anarchist thought.

This area, on the role of violence within the liberation movement, is perhaps the one sole area of disagreement between Alfred and I. While I would have never truly considered myself to be in the same camp as Ward Churchill, or the various other groups and activists who advocate the strategy of people’s war as the first, last and only acceptable method for bringing down colonialist capitalism and revolutionizing society, neither do I feel that we should restrict ourselves merely to the possibility of armed self-defence. While I do agree with Alfred that the capacity for armed self-defence is a vital one, and also feel that all possible non-violent means most be mobilized, utilized and finally exhausted before other means are attempted, I do feel that a revolutionary movement should maintain the capacity for offensive action. In sense I look to the Zapatista movement, which while at this moment is in a phase of armed self-defence and mostly non-violent struggle, it has never given up the capacity to again wage war with the Mexican state. In fact many resistance movements, by their nature, have utilized the entire spectrum of conflict, from passive non-violent forms to armed actions. History has shown that us that during the course of a resistence struggle, when an entire people are mobilized into that struggle, everyone participates & contributes in whatever way they can, whether it’s passing on information, not co-operating with government officials, or firing a rifle. An excellent example of this was the struggle against apartheid in South Africa, which was lead by an alliance of the African National Congress, South African Communist Party and Congress of South African Trade Unions. During that historic struggle the alliance made use of both non-violent means as well as a guerilla group, the Umkhonto we Sizwe (Spear of the Nation). Nelson Mandela, the main leader of the alliance during the anti-apartheid struggle, and himself also a former resistance fighter, noted in a Time magazine article on Gandhi that, “Violence and nonviolence are not mutually exclusive; it is the predominance of the one or the other that labels a struggle. (Mandela, “The Sacred Warrior”, Time, January 2000)”

However, I also do recognize the foolhardiness inherent in any attempt by a small armed group to try and take on either of North America’s colonial governments. One has to look no further than the failures of organizations such as the Black Liberation Army and Weather Underground. While I have no doubt that the cadres of those organizations were deeply committed revolutionaries, the results of their attempts to militarily take on the American state are laid out for all to see, they failed. Looking beyond the borders of North America we can see that while the model of a small guerilla force overthrowing a corrupt state did result in success in Cuba, that success was mainly due to it taking imperialism off guard and when it was repeated in Bolivia and elsewhere it failed. Again, while I do not doubt Che Guevara’s committent to revolutionary social change, the simple fact is that when he attempted to take a small group against the American-backed Bolivian state he failed, and ultimately ended up dead. So I think even in our differences on this one particular issue Alfred and I may much to agree upon. What this does highlight though is the need for constant and rigorous debate and discussion within the revolutionary indigenous movement.

Throughout the book, Alfred is quite clear that the “enemy” of Native peoples and resurgence is not the common “White Man” in any kind of racial or essentialized sense, but rather the set of cultural and intellectual supports that produce and reproduce the colonial reality. In this sense, it is the foundations of the colonial mentality and settler society that must be undercut for radical change to occur. In this context, Alfred argues that “regeneration”, “restitution”, and “resurgence” are key dimensions of Native struggle as opposed to “recovery”, “reconciliation”, and “resistance” (ibid., 151). The distinction between these sets of principles is that while the latter are products of liberal frameworks and fit within existing colonial relations, the former do not, they explicitly challenge the socio-political and cultural bases upon which Native-settler relations are currently constituted. Within this vision of a politics of contention, which is rooted in Native resurgence, Alfred contends that in order for this politics to be successful it will be necessary to create “crisis” on two fronts: first, to bring about “a disjuncture between the political consciousness of the Settler society and the realities of state power”; and second to engender “a moral conflict between contemporary Settler identities and the forced renewal of the need for the use of explicit colonizing violence” (ibid., 268). Alfred further argues that a politics of contention rooted in Indigenous life ways and committed to challenging the foundations of colonial relations socially, culturally, and politically will bring about precisely such crises. The foundations of this politics of contention and the capacity to defeat colonialism will themselves be found only in “liberation from domination, freedom from fear, a decolonized diet, a warrior ethic, and reconnection to indigenous cultures” (ibid., 282).

This political philosophy of anarcho-indigenism that is formulated by Alfred on the pages of Wasáse is indeed a very a compelling one, and also one that intersects very strongly with the ideas of other scholars and activists working to envision and materialize new forms of political action. The kind of anti-state, non-hegemonic politics advocated by Alfred offers the reader a fruitful ground upon which to build affinities with a multitude of others seeking to contest neo-liberal capitalism, colonialism, and imperialism. Drawing on interviews with a variety of Indigenous academics, activists, artists, community leaders, and warriors, Alfred presents his political vision in a form which is  deeply engaging, passionate, and rigorously considered.

On one final note concerning Wasáse and Alfred’s political philosophy, it is important to remember that it is Alfred’s purpose is to produce a political vision capable of generating an indigenous resurgence that will help lead the way in eventually defeating the colonial and imperial realities. Alfred’s target in the book is not “Western tradition” itself but rather those elements of within that particular tradition that have formed the main base of support for the colonial mentality and which have served as the justification for the genocide directed against indigenous peoples that continues around the world to this day. In the end Alfred’s anarcho-indigenous politics is as inspiring as it is provocative, and given its intersection with many non-Indigenous anarchist-inspired and autonomist visions of socio-political struggle, perhaps there is hope for radical social change that does not require yet another mythology legitimizing domination or which requires us to wait for some constantly deferred totalizing revolutionary moment. This might be a glimpse of a politics and possibility of resurgence for us all.

“The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.”
~Steve Biko

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