Some of you might have heard about the speech given by Chief Seattle to his tribe in response to the United State Government's proposal for buying the tribal land Puget Sound .The language in which the speech was given does not exist now and the Old Puget Sound is now known as US state of Washington.
Although there is a lot of controversy about the original speech , here is the most acceptable compiled version of speech which is worth reading at least once as it is considered one of the most powerful statements of concern for the environment that has ever been made.
Although there is a lot of controversy about the original speech , here is the most acceptable compiled version of speech which is worth reading at least once as it is considered one of the most powerful statements of concern for the environment that has ever been made.
In the 1850’s, the United State Government pressured Chief Seathl (Seattle) and his tribe of Native Americans to sell their Puget Sound traditional hunting and living territory to the Government – two million acres and a way of life for $ 150,000. Part of the proposal was that the United State Government would create a “reservation” for the tribe and support the tribe on this land.
Chief Seattle responded in a speech which scathingly depicted the urban society of the United States in the 1850’s and frighteningly foreshadowed the still worse picture of this country (US) and that which is happening all around the world today.
His (Chief Seattle) response is one of the most powerful statements of concern for the environment that has ever been made.
“The Great Chief sends words that he wishes to buy our land. The Great Chief also sends words of friendship and good will. This is kind of him, since we know he has little need of our friendship in return. But we will consider your offer, for we know that if we do not sell, the white man may come with guns and take our land.
“How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?
“The White man’s dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are the part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sister; the deer, the horse, the great eagle – these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of pony, and man – all belong to the same family.
“So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children. So we will consider your offer to buy our land. But it will not be easy, for this land is sacred to us. I here and now make this the first condition – that we will not be denied the privilege, without molestation, of visiting at will the graves of our ancestors, friends and children.
“This shining water that moves in the stream and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water’s murmur is the voice of my father’s fathers.
“The rivers are our brothers; they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember and teach your children that the rivers are our brothers - and yours; and hence you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.”
“The red man has ever fled the approach of the white man as the changing mist on the mountains flees before the blazing sun. But the ashes of our fathers are sacred. Their graves are holy ground, and so these hills, these trees; this portion of the earth is sacred to us.
“We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is same to him as the next, for he is stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy; and when he has conquered it, he moves on.
“He leaves his father’s grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father’s grave and his children’s birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert. I do not know. Our ways are different for your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. But perhaps it is because the red man is a savage and does not understand.
“There is no quit place in the white man’s cities; no place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect’s wings.
“But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand.
“The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of frogs around a pond at night? I am red man and do not understand.
“The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond, and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, our scented with the pinyon pine.
“The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath; the beast, the trees, the man – they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breaths. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.
“But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the share its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh.
“And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow’s flowers.
“So we will consider your offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I will make another condition: The white man must treat the beast of this land as his brothers. I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.
“What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to the beast, soon happen to man. All things are connected.
“You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of your grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.
“This we know: The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know.
“All things are connected, like the blood, like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
“But we will consider your offer to go to the reservation you have for my people. We will live apart, and in peace. It matters little where we spend the remnant of our days; they are not many. Our children have seen their fathers humbled in defeat. Our warriors have felt shame, and after defeat they turn their days in idleness and strong drink. A few more hours, a few more winters, and none of the children of the great tribes that once lived on this broad land or that roam now in small bands in the woods will be left to weep over the graves of a people once as powerful and hopeful as yours.
“But why should I mourn the passing of my people? Tribes are made of individuals and are no better than they. Men come and go like the waves of the sea. It is the order of Nature. Even the white man, whose god walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers, after all. We shall see.
“One thing we know, which the white man may one day discover – our God is the same God. You may think now that you own Him, as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. This earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator.
“The whites too, shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.
“But in your perishing, you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man. That destiny is mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.
“Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is eagle? Gone. The end of living and the beginning of survival.
“So we will consider your offer to buy our land. If we agree, it will be to secure the reservation you have promised. There, perhaps, we may live out our brief days as we wish. When the last Red Man shall have perished from the earth, and his memory among the white men shall have become a myth, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe. They love this earth as the newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat.
“The white man will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people for the dead are not powerless. “Dead’ did I say? There is no death. Only a change of worlds!
“So if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you take it.
“And with all your strength, with all your mind, with all your heart, preserve it for your children, and love it… as God loves us. One thing we know. Our God is the same God. This earth is precious to Him.
Chief Seattle responded in a speech which scathingly depicted the urban society of the United States in the 1850’s and frighteningly foreshadowed the still worse picture of this country (US) and that which is happening all around the world today.
His (Chief Seattle) response is one of the most powerful statements of concern for the environment that has ever been made.
“The Great Chief sends words that he wishes to buy our land. The Great Chief also sends words of friendship and good will. This is kind of him, since we know he has little need of our friendship in return. But we will consider your offer, for we know that if we do not sell, the white man may come with guns and take our land.
“How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?
“The White man’s dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are the part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sister; the deer, the horse, the great eagle – these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of pony, and man – all belong to the same family.
“So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children. So we will consider your offer to buy our land. But it will not be easy, for this land is sacred to us. I here and now make this the first condition – that we will not be denied the privilege, without molestation, of visiting at will the graves of our ancestors, friends and children.
“This shining water that moves in the stream and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water’s murmur is the voice of my father’s fathers.
“The rivers are our brothers; they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember and teach your children that the rivers are our brothers - and yours; and hence you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.”
“The red man has ever fled the approach of the white man as the changing mist on the mountains flees before the blazing sun. But the ashes of our fathers are sacred. Their graves are holy ground, and so these hills, these trees; this portion of the earth is sacred to us.
“We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is same to him as the next, for he is stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy; and when he has conquered it, he moves on.
“He leaves his father’s grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father’s grave and his children’s birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert. I do not know. Our ways are different for your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. But perhaps it is because the red man is a savage and does not understand.
“There is no quit place in the white man’s cities; no place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect’s wings.
“But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand.
“The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of frogs around a pond at night? I am red man and do not understand.
“The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond, and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, our scented with the pinyon pine.
“The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath; the beast, the trees, the man – they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breaths. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.
“But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the share its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh.
“And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow’s flowers.
“So we will consider your offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I will make another condition: The white man must treat the beast of this land as his brothers. I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.
“What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to the beast, soon happen to man. All things are connected.
“You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of your grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.
“This we know: The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know.
“All things are connected, like the blood, like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
“But we will consider your offer to go to the reservation you have for my people. We will live apart, and in peace. It matters little where we spend the remnant of our days; they are not many. Our children have seen their fathers humbled in defeat. Our warriors have felt shame, and after defeat they turn their days in idleness and strong drink. A few more hours, a few more winters, and none of the children of the great tribes that once lived on this broad land or that roam now in small bands in the woods will be left to weep over the graves of a people once as powerful and hopeful as yours.
“But why should I mourn the passing of my people? Tribes are made of individuals and are no better than they. Men come and go like the waves of the sea. It is the order of Nature. Even the white man, whose god walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers, after all. We shall see.
“One thing we know, which the white man may one day discover – our God is the same God. You may think now that you own Him, as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. This earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator.
“The whites too, shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.
“But in your perishing, you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man. That destiny is mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.
“Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is eagle? Gone. The end of living and the beginning of survival.
“So we will consider your offer to buy our land. If we agree, it will be to secure the reservation you have promised. There, perhaps, we may live out our brief days as we wish. When the last Red Man shall have perished from the earth, and his memory among the white men shall have become a myth, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe. They love this earth as the newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat.
“The white man will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people for the dead are not powerless. “Dead’ did I say? There is no death. Only a change of worlds!
“So if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you take it.
“And with all your strength, with all your mind, with all your heart, preserve it for your children, and love it… as God loves us. One thing we know. Our God is the same God. This earth is precious to Him.
