FROM THE WAR-PATH TO THE PLOW 



By Franklin K. Lane, Secretary of the Interior 



ON THE first of last July the 

 Cherokee Indian Nation ceased to 

 exist. This act was the culmina- 

 tion of a treaty promise made over 80 

 years ago, extended by statute, and at last 

 placed within administrative discretion. 



The word of the white man has now 

 been made good. These native and aspir- 

 ing people have been lifted as American 

 citizens into full fellowship with their 

 civilized conquerors. The Cherokee Na- 

 tion, with its senate and house, governor 

 and officers, laws, property, and author- 

 ity, exists no longer. 



Surely there is something fine in this 

 slight bit of history. It takes hold upon 

 the imagination and the memory, arouses 

 dreams of the day when the Indian shall 

 be wholly blended into our life, and at 

 the same time draws the mind backward 

 over the stumbling story of our relation- 

 ship with him. 



the; unite;d state;s stiIvIv guardian 



The people of the great Sequoyah have 

 lost their identity, yet — and this is a fact 

 that all do not know — there are still sev- 

 eral thousand of these American citizens 

 for whom the United States stands to a 

 greater or less degree in loco parentis. 

 We hold our hands upon the property 

 and the private concerns of approxi- 

 mately one-fifth of these "free people." 



This seems to be an anomalous situa- 

 tion and prompts at once the inquiry, 

 Has this government a policy with rela- 

 tion to these people and the others of 

 their race ? We have had three centuries 

 of contact with the Indian. Do we now 

 know where we are leading him and what 

 our own purpose is with regard to him? 

 Have we aught that may be openly de- 

 clared as a definite and somewhat imme- 

 diate aim toward which we can work 

 with clear and unwavering purpose? 



If we have such a policy, it should be 

 stated ; and this is for love of the Indian 

 himself, who daily asks the question, 



*An abstract from the annual report to the 

 President of the United States by the Secre- 

 tary of the Interior. 



"What is my future to be at the hands 

 of the white man ?" 



A b]5wilde;re;d peopi^e: 



That the Indian is confused in mind 

 as to his status and very much at sea as 

 to our ultimate purpose toward him is 

 not surprising. For a hundred years he 

 has been spun round like a blindfolded 

 child in a game of blindman's blufl^. 

 Treated as an enemy at first, overcome, 

 driven from his lands, negotiated with 

 most formally as an independent nation, 

 given by treaty a distinct boundary which 

 was never to be changed "while water 

 runs and grass grows," he later found 

 himself pushed beyond that boundary 

 line, negotiated with again, and then set 

 down upon a reservation, half captive, 

 half protege. 



What could an Indian, simply thinking 

 and direct of mind, make of all this? 

 To us it might give rise to a deprecatory 

 smile. To him it must have seemed the 

 systematized malevolence of a cynical 

 civilization. And if this perplexed in- 

 dividual sought solace in a bottle of 

 whisky or followed after some daring 

 and visionary Medicine Man who prom- 

 ised a way out of a hopeless maze, can 

 we wonder? 



Manifestly the Indian has been con- 

 fused in his thought because we have 

 been confused in ours. It has been diffi- 

 cult for Uncle Sam to regard the Indian 

 as enemy, national menace, prisoner of 

 war, and babe in arms all at the same 

 time. The United States may be open 

 to the charge of having treated the In- 

 dian with injustice, of having broken 

 promises, and sometimes neglected an 

 unfortunate people, but we may plead by 

 way of confession and avoidance that we 

 did not mark for ourselves a clear course, 

 and so, "like bats that fly at noon," we 

 have "spelled out our paths in syllables 

 of pain." 



The: Indian's status 



There are some 300,000 Indians in the 

 United States. This grand total includes 



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