Center of the American West

Beyond Custer’s Last Stand: The forces that led to the Battle of the Little Bighorn

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 23:18:25 +0000

Beyond Custer’s Last Stand: The forces that led to the Battle of the Little Bighorn Rachel Sauer Tue, 07/14/2026 - 17:18

Bradley Worrell

CU �ֲ��ý historians Thomas Andrews and Noah Ramage argue that the seeds of Little Bighorn, which happened 150 years ago, were planted years before Custer’s defeat

The Battle of the Little Bighorn has long occupied a unique place in American memory. Often remembered through images of Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer making a heroic last stand against overwhelming odds, the battle has been mythologized in movies, books and popular culture for nearly 150 years.

But according to �ֲ��ý historians Thomas G. Andrews and Noah Ramage, that familiar story obscures a much larger and more complex reality.

Andrews, faculty director of the Center of the American West, says that rather than a simple clash between the U.S. Army and Native Americans, the battle (which many Indigenous people refer to as the Battle of Greasy Grass) emerged from shifting alliances with Native nations amid a backdrop of competition for territory, economic transformation and mounting pressure on Northern Plains tribes. To understand what happened at the Little Bighorn on June 25-26, 1876, Andrews argues that it is necessary to understand the forces that led up to it.

CU �ֲ��ý historians Thomas G. Andrews (left) and Noah Ramage (right) argue that the seeds of Little Bighorn were planted years before Custer’s defeat.

At the center of the conflict were several Native nations with different histories and interests, some of which allied themselves with the U.S. government while pursuing their own agendas and some of which violently resisted any efforts by the government to dispossess them of their territories. Among that latter group was a coalition led by Lakotas, joined by Northern Cheyennes and smaller numbers of Arapahos.

“Over the course of the 18th and the first part of the 19th century, the Lakotas really become a kind of great power in the Northern Plains,” Andrews explains.

Their rise was fueled largely by horses, which transformed mobility, trade, hunting and warfare. As Lakota influence expanded westward, Andrews says they moved into territories claimed by other tribes, including the Crow and Arikara. Those longstanding rivalries later helped explain why some Native groups chose to align themselves with U.S. forces, he says.

The United States and the Lakotas had already fought before Little Bighorn, Andrews notes. During Red Cloud’s War in the 1860s, the Lakotas and their allies successfully resisted U.S. efforts to establish the Bozeman Trail through their territory.

“They would actually win,” Andrews says. “They ended up winning a favorable treaty from the United States in 1868.”

That treaty guaranteed hunting rights in the Powder River Country and recognized Sioux sovereignty over vast territories. Yet even as the ink dried on the agreement, a confluence of factors was building that would ultimately lead to renewed hostilities, says Ramage, an assistant professor whose research focus is Native American and Indigenous history.

Expansion, gold and a new federal policy

By the mid-1870s, Native nations on the Plains faced enormous pressures. The completion of railroads accelerated western settlement, while Custer’s 1874 expedition into the Black Hills triggered a gold rush into lands protected by treaty, Andrews says.

“You basically had this huge influx of American squatters essentially moving illegally into territories that the government had recognized as sovereign Sioux territory,” he adds.

‘What my great-grandmother saw at Little Bighorn’

For many Americans, the Battle of the Little Bighorn is remembered as “Custer’s Last Stand”—a dramatic clash of armies on a Montana hillside where Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer and more than 200 soldiers of the 7th Calvary were killed on June 25, 1876.

For Rick Williams, an Oglala Lakota/Northern Cheyenne Native, historian, Indigenous rights advocate and �ֲ��ý Center of the American West former board member, the battle was never just a chapter in a history book.

It was a story passed down through his family in hushed tones, told by his great-grandmother in her native Lakota and Cheyenne and translated into English for him by his grandmother.

“I’m probably one of the few people living today who has a direct connection with someone who was there,” says Williams. “My great-grandmother was born in 1869 … and she was a little girl in the Cheyenne camp during the Battle of the Little Bighorn; she witnessed what happened.

“Growing up, my grandmother and great-grandmother would tell these stories, but they always warned me not to repeat them. They believed they could still get into trouble, possibly from the public or maybe with the government,” he adds. “Even in the 1950s and 1960s, there was still a fear surrounding (Native American) discussions of what happened at Little Bighorn, because Custer was still revered.”

Learn more

Ramage argues those developments reflected a broader shift in federal policy and attitudes toward Native nations. By this time, Ramage says the federal government was becoming increasingly willing to ignore existing agreements. In 1871, Congress stopped making treaties with Native nations, signaling that Washington increasingly viewed itself as possessing unilateral authority over Indigenous peoples and their lands.

“Instead of negotiating with Indian nations as they had in the past, a very aggressive United States starts to dictate policy to Indian nations,” Ramage says, “partially because it views them as inferior.”

He places the conflict within a broader era of American territorial expansion.

“The United States was incredibly ‘grabby’ at this moment,” he says, comparing events on the Northern Plains to a broader period of aggressive imperial expansion in which the United States seized more than half of Mexico’s territory in 1848 (through a treaty) and the annexation of Hawaii in 1898 (without a treaty).

“The U.S. wants to finally monopolize power in the Northern Plains—and to do that it had to finally overcome Lakota power,” Ramage says. He adds, “This is not a war that starts because of some sort of misunderstanding. The U.S. started this war, and it started it with the explicit aim of subjugating the Lakotas.”

Destruction of the buffalo

At the same time settlers poured westward, Andrews and Ramage say another force threatened the foundations of Plains Indian life: the destruction of the bison.

Buffalo were essential to Native economies and cultures. They provided food, clothing, shelter materials, trade goods and spiritual meaning. But industrialization suddenly transformed buffalo hides into valuable commodities, Andrews says.

In 1871, a tanning process was developed that allowed buffalo hides to be converted into belts for industrial machinery.

“It was really kind of this remarkable, literal harnessing of these massive herds of wild creatures on the Great Plains that suddenly could become industrial inputs driving American economic growth,” Andrews says.

The consequences were devastating, Andrews and Ramage agree. Commercial hunters armed with long-range rifles slaughtered buffalo in enormous numbers.

“They were really just hide hunting at that point,” Andrews explains. “Usually, they were not even taking the tongues off of the buffalo that they killed but just stripping the hides off and leaving the carcasses to rot.”

Ramage and Andrews agree that federal officials understood the significance of what was happening.

“U.S. military leaders recognized how profoundly Plains Natives depended on bison,” Andrews says. “They understood that attacking bison would serve U.S. national interests.”

Reservations and resistance

At the same time buffalo populations were collapsing, the federal government was attempting to force Native peoples onto reservations, which were intended not merely as places to live but as mechanisms of control, Andrews says.

“Their main way of trying to do this was by establishing reservations and by trying to use food, the provision of rations, to control Native peoples,” he says.

Native leaders disagreed over how best to respond. Some believed accommodation offered the best chance for survival. Others argued for continued independence.

Sioux veterans of the Battle of Little Bighorn (Photo: Library of Congress)

Initially, many Native people were willing to try reservation life, Andrews says. However, federal corruption, underfunding and bureaucratic failures made reservation existence increasingly untenable, he adds.

“Native people who tried to comply with what the United States wanted usually ended up starving,” he says.

By the summer of 1876, many Lakotas and Cheyennes had left the reservations and gathered in the Powder River Country, where treaty rights still guaranteed hunting access. What emerged was one of the largest Native encampments ever assembled on the Northern Plains, Ramage says.

The Army marches into disaster

As the U.S. Army moved to force these groups back onto reservations, Custer and the 7th Cavalry advanced toward the encampment, relying heavily on Native scouts for tracking.

While those scouts reported that it was the largest gathering of Native peoples that anyone had ever witnessed, Andrews says U.S. commanders failed to grasp the true size of the force they faced. On the fateful day of battle, Custer’s detachment of 7th Cavalry members encountered thousands of Native combatants rather than the few hundred they anticipated, he notes.

“The Americans had so badly underestimated what they were up against,” he says.

Ramage argues that this failure extended beyond Custer himself.

“Little Bighorn was arguably an intelligence failure for the United States as a whole—not just Custer,” he says. He blames federal officials for consistently underestimating Lakota power.

Grave markers at Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument in Montana. (Photo: Victoria Stauffenberg/National Park Service)

“Many U.S. officials incorrectly assumed they were fighting racial inferiors,” he says. “They were consistently over-confident.”

Defeat at the Little Bighorn

The Battle of the Little Bighorn remains one of the most studied and debated engagements in American history. Andrews cautions that key details remain uncertain because most of Custer’s immediate command died in the fighting.

“We don’t have their perspective, and we never will,” he says.

Historians continue to debate Custer’s decisions and the roles played by subordinates Marcus Reno and Frederick Benteen, both of whom had contentious relationships with their commander.

“Reno and Benteen both despised Custer,” Andrews says.

What is clear is that the Army encountered a vastly larger and more capable force than expected. Native warriors rapidly mobilized from the enormous village and overwhelmed Custer’s detachment of about 200 soldiers. Andrews says he believes the outcome can be attributed in large part to the Cavalry commander’s ego.

“I think really it’s Custer’s arrogance,” he says.

Ramage cautions that focusing solely on tactical mistakes can distract from the larger strategy being pursued by the Army.

“From my perspective,” he says, “there is a way in which focusing on (Custer’s) strategic blunders … seriously overlooks the fact that the ‘successful’ U.S. military strategy at this moment was often defined by horrific attacks on vulnerable non-combatants.”

For Natives, victory in battle, defeat in war

News of the defeat shocked Americans, Andrews and Ramage agree.

The battle occurred during the nation's centennial year, a period Andrews describes as marked by economic depression, political corruption and uncertainty. The death of a famous cavalry officer and the destruction of his command seemed almost unimaginable, he says.

At the same time, the battle quickly became part of a national mythology. Andrews says the story of “Custer’s Last Stand” helped transform a military disaster into a narrative of heroic sacrifice.

Meanwhile, for Native peoples, their victory proved short-lived.

“The government was dead set on retribution and on securing eventual victory,” Andrews says. He notes that federal authorities intensified military operations, tightened ration policies and increasingly used hunger as a method of coercion.

“The government essentially tries to starve Native peoples into submission,” he says.

By the spring of 1877, most Native groups had surrendered or fled to Canada.

Ramage says the Army’s defeat at Little Bighorn did not change the government’s end objectives.

This is not a war that starts because of some sort of misunderstanding. The U.S. started this war, and it started it with the explicit aim of subjugating the Lakotas."

“The U.S. was deeply committed to its military goals,” he says, “and even a humiliating defeat at Little Bighorn would not and did not change its course in terms of policy.”

Lasting consequences still felt today

With the subjugation of these Northern Plains tribes, the U.S. government reduced the size of the Great Sioux Reservation, seized the Black Hills despite treaty protections and intensified its campaign to assimilate Native peoples.

Even today, the legacy remains unresolved. Andrews notes that Lakotas never accepted the seizure of the Black Hills. While federal courts later approved financial compensation, the Lakotas rejected monetary settlements. “They actually want the land,” he notes.

For Ramage, the ongoing dispute illustrates that Little Bighorn’s significance extends well beyond a single military engagement. The battle occurred during a period when the federal government increasingly abandoned treaty-making and asserted unilateral authority over Native nations—a shift with consequences that are still being debated today.

“This is a war with one very clear aggressor: the United States,” he says.

Meanwhile, the battle’s memory continues to evolve. Once commonly remembered as “Custer’s Last Stand,” Andrews and Ramage say modern historians increasingly place the conflict within the broader context of Native resistance, U.S. expansion and the struggle for Indigenous sovereignty. The historians say tribal histories, oral traditions and Native perspectives have become a more prominent part of the story, challenging earlier interpretations that focused almost exclusively on Custer and the 7th Cavalry.

For Andrews, that continuing conversation is evidence that the battle remains relevant.

“The histories and its legacies are still absolutely active in Indian country,” he says. “There are still so many unresolved issues.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about history? Show your support.

CU �ֲ��ý historians Thomas Andrews and Noah Ramage argue that the seeds of Little Bighorn, which happened 150 years ago, were planted years before Custer’s defeat.

Traditional

White

Top painting: "The Custer Fight" by Charles Marion Russell, 1903

‘What my great-grandmother saw at Little Bighorn’

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 15:49:24 +0000

‘What my great-grandmother saw at Little Bighorn’ Rachel Sauer Tue, 07/14/2026 - 09:49

Bradley Worrell

CU �ֲ��ý Center of the American West former board member Rick Williams shares family insights into the historic battle and offers thoughts on how perceptions have changed over time

It was a story passed down through his family in hushed tones, told by his great-grandmother in her native Lakota and Cheyenne and translated into English for him by his grandmother.

For Rick Williams, an Oglala Lakota/Northern Cheyenne Native, historian, Indigenous rights advocate and previous board member of the CU �ֲ��ý Center of the American West, the Battle of Little Bighorn was never just a chapter in a history book.

With this summer marking the 150th anniversary of the Battle of the Little Bighorn, Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine recently spoke with Williams, who shared his family recollections and why he’s encouraged to see that American perceptions of the battle and Native Americans have changed over the years.

Question: What did your great-grandmother tell you about the battle? What details differed from historical accounts?

Williams: According to my great-grandmother’s account, she and a cousin had been playing near the river when (Cheyenne) scouts warned them to return to camp. Instead, they stopped where they could watch what was happening. …

According to those accounts, warriors were concealed along the river and ambushed Custer’s force as it crossed. The attack created immediate confusion and disorganization. Some soldiers were thrown from their horses and others fled up nearby draws and ridges.

As soldiers attempted to retreat uphill, another group of Lakota or Cheyenne warriors arrived from a different direction after hearing the gunfire. That left Custer’s men with no avenue of escape. That’s why the traditional image of a carefully organized ‘Last Stand’ doesn’t fit some Native accounts. The soldiers never had the opportunity to establish an effective defensive formation.

There are many versions of what happened, and every story seems to have several variations. But one thing is clear: The battle was far more complicated than the traditional narrative suggests. …

One story my great-grandmother told me was children at the camp going among the dead cavalry men after the battle. The children would open the soldiers’ money belts and throw the contents into the air. She said, ‘I didn’t know it was money. If I had known, I would have saved some.’

These were oral stories I learned firsthand.

Later, I told that story at a history conference in Billings. A prominent historian said it couldn’t be true. He argued that Custer’s men wouldn’t have been carrying that kind of money in the field.

By then, I had done extensive research in military archives. I learned that every military post kept monthly reports called post returns. When I examined the records from Fort Lincoln, I found that just before the expedition left, Custer had drawn two months’ pay for his men. The records also noted that the money was distributed before moving into the campaign area. So, the documents supported my great-grandmother’s story.

Beyond Custer’s Last Stand: The forces that led to the Battle of the Little Bighorn

But according to �ֲ��ý historians Thomas G. Andrews and Noah Ramage, that familiar story obscures a much larger and more complex reality.

Learn more

Question: Are there other notable details from your grandmother’s account or from your own research on the battle that differ from the traditional narrative?

Williams: Part of my research suggests a gap between the public narrative and what Native people remember. For example, there was a claim that Custer’s body was not mutilated because he was respected by Native people. However, accounts passed down in my family tell a different story. …

The Cheyenne knew who Custer was. Unlike some other groups, they had prior history with him, particularly after the Washita campaign. There was an old story that after the peace ceremony, a Cheyenne spiritual leader emptied pipe ashes onto Custer’s boots and warned him never to come among their people again or he would be killed.

According to Native accounts, Custer was shot in the river (at Little Bighorn) … and a Cheyenne warrior then cut out his heart, held it up and declared that (the spiritual leader’s) warning had finally been carried out. You’ll never find that story in most written accounts. It’s an oral tradition that was passed down within families. …

Another thing that often gets overlooked in history is Native intelligence and military skill. The military capabilities of the Native nations were routinely underestimated. Yet, at Little Bighorn, they demonstrated superior knowledge of the terrain, superior scouting and effective coordination.

History is complicated. If you really wanted a complete understanding of Little Bighorn, you’d need accounts from the Lakota, the Cheyenne, the Crow scouts (for the cavalry), (Custer’s subordinate Captain) Reno and everyone else involved. No single narrative tells the whole story.

Question: Why do you think the accounts of Native Americans who were present at the battle were not given the same credence—at least initially—as secondary accounts regarding Custer and his men, who did not live to tell their stories?

Williams: For many years, historians largely ignored or dismissed Cheyenne accounts. One reason was simple: The Cheyenne used a different directional system. Their cardinal directions were based on Bear Butte—one of their most sacred landmarks. When historians translated Cheyenne stories using conventional directions, the stories seemed inaccurate.

In the 1980s, after a fire at Little Bighorn exposed new archaeological evidence, archeologist Richard Fox studied the battlefield extensively. Working with researchers familiar with Cheyenne traditions, he found that when the directional references were properly understood, Cheyenne accounts matched the archeological evidence remarkably well. In some cases, they were more accurate than any other version of events.

Question: Do you think American public perceptions of the battle have changed in your lifetime?

Williams: Absolutely. Fifty or 60 years ago, criticizing Custer publicly was difficult. Many people viewed him as a heroic figure, and there were passionate defenders of that interpretation.

I think that’s one reason my grandmother cautioned me not to repeat certain stories; there was a real concern about how people would react.

Over the years, Native perspectives have gained greater recognition. The interpretation at the battlefield itself has changed, and the visitor center now presents a more balanced story.

From a Native perspective, outsiders were entering and occupying someone else’s homeland. History sounds very different when viewed from that angle."

The archeological work done after the battlefield fire was especially important because it challenged longstanding assumptions. At the same time, Native voices became harder to ignore.

Question: Are there still elements of the historical narrative regarding western expansion before and after the battle that you think are largely unchanged in American culture?

Williams: One issue that still bothers me is the language some people use when talking about western expansion. The traditional story often describes settlers moving peacefully into empty territory and being attacked by savage tribes. But native people lived on that land already.

From a Native perspective, outsiders were entering and occupying someone else’s homeland. History sounds very different when viewed from that angle.

Question: If Little Bighorn had ended differently, do you think the history of the West would have changed substantially?

Williams: That’s difficult to answer. The battle took place in 1876—the nation’s centennial year. Because of that timing, the event became highly symbolic. It captured the nation’s attention in a way that few other battles could have.

Had the outcome been different, perhaps some things would have changed, but larger forces were already in motion. There was tremendous pressure for western expansion. Public attitudes toward Native people were deeply entrenched. Government policies were already moving in certain directions. Even without Little Bighorn, many of those forces would still have existed.

For generations, Native nations experienced policies designed to assimilate, relocate or absorb Native peoples into mainstream society. Those policies affected nearly every aspect of life.

Even today, many tribes remain constrained by federal systems that affect their ability to govern themselves and develop their economies.

Question: Some 150 years after the Battle of the Little Bighorn, do you have thoughts on how the American public views Native Americans?

Williams: Despite everything, I believe one thing has improved dramatically: People don’t view Native Americans the same way they did 50 or 60 years ago. For much of earlier American history, Native people were often portrayed as enemies, obstacles or relics of the past.

Today, more people are willing to listen. They’re looking at the historical record and saying, ‘We didn’t get this completely right.’ That’s encouraging.

I hope the next 50 years involve more than simply acknowledging mistakes. I hope they include real efforts to rebuild communities and create opportunities.

People sometimes talk about reconstruction efforts in other parts of the world after wars and disasters. Native communities have often needed similar investments but have rarely received them. There is still a great deal of work to be done.

But for the first time in a while, I think more people are willing to have an honest conversation about history—and that’s a good place to start.

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about the American West? Show your support.

CU �ֲ��ý Center of the American West former board member Rick Williams shares family insights into the historic battle and offers thoughts on how perceptions have changed over time.

Traditional

White

Top image: "Indian Memorial" by Colleen Cutschall, a senior Oglala-Sicangu Lakota artist originally from Pine Ridge, South Dakota, at Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument. (Photo: National Park Service)

Thomas Andrews is new director of the Center of the American West

Anonymous — Wed, 07 Aug 2024 17:54:43 +0000

Thomas Andrews is new director of the Center of the American West Anonymous (not verified) Wed, 08/07/2024 - 11:54

Thomas Andrews, �ֲ��ý professor of history, has been appointed faculty director of the Center of the American West. His appointment became effective in July.

Thomas Andrews

Andrews’ research and teaching focus on western American, environmental, animal, Indigenous and 19th- and 20th-century U.S. history. He is the recipient a Guggenheim Fellowship, a National Library of Medicine/National Institutes of Health Grant for Scholarly Works in Biomedicine and Health, a National Endowment for the Humanities Public Scholars Award and other fellowships.

He is the author of Killing for Coal: America’s Deadliest Labor War, which won six awards, including a Bancroft Prize; Coyote Valley: Deep History in the High Rockies; and a book in progress about the Great Horse Flu of 1872-73.

Andrews was born and reared in �ֲ��ý and graduated from Fairview High School in 1990 before earning his BA at Yale and his MA and PhD at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Before joining the CU �ֲ��ý Department of History in 2011, he taught at CU Denver.

Andrews is one of only a handful of second-generation faculty members at CU �ֲ��ý. His mother, Martha Andrews, was a research librarian at the Institute for Arctic and Alpine Research (INSTAAR), and his father, John T. Andrews, joined INSTAAR and the Department of Geological Sciences in 1968 and is an emeritus faculty member.

“Professor Andrews is an exceedingly skilled and respected historian who has helped broaden and deepen our understanding of the history of the American West,” said Daryl Maeda, interim dean of the College of Arts and Sciences.

“The Center of the American West makes critical contributions to national thought and discourse about the American West, and Professor Andrews is particularly well suited to stand at its helm.”

The Center of the American West is a nationally recognized hub for illuminating the role of the western United States in regional, national and global issues, describing its mission as bringing people together to “explore the ongoing complexities of and challenges facing the western United States through education, research, programs and projects.”

Thomas Andrews, �ֲ��ý professor of history, has been appointed faculty director of the Center of the American West. His appointment became effective in July.

Traditional

White

Balancing fraught history and modern collaboration in America’s ‘best idea’

Anonymous — Mon, 24 Jun 2024 21:17:55 +0000

Balancing fraught history and modern collaboration in America’s ‘best idea’ Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 06/24/2024 - 15:17

Rachel Sauer

In new book, CU �ֲ��ý scholar Brooke Neely explores pathways to uphold Native sovereignty in U.S. national parks

Since Yellowstone became the United States’ first national park in 1872, these parks have existed in a dual space—praised, per author Wallace Stegner, as “the best idea we ever had. Absolutely American, absolutely democratic, they reflect us at our best rather than our worst," while existing on Native lands.

National parks “have a fraught history in the United States and globally with respect to Indigenous lands. The creation of U.S. national parks in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was part of a broader project to dispossess Native peoples of their homelands,” writes Brooke Neely, a research fellow in the �ֲ��ý Center of the American West, and her co-editors Christina Gish Hill and Matthew J. Hill in National Parks, Native Sovereignty: Experiments in Collaboration, a recently published collection of case studies and interviews exploring pathways for collaboration that uphold tribal sovereignty.

Brooke Neely, a research fellow in the �ֲ��ý Center of the American West, co-edited National Parks, Native Sovereignty: Experiments in Collaboration.

“There’s a tension between the ugly history of U.S. national parks and the ongoing efforts to assert Native peoples’ sovereign rights to these lands,” Neely explains. “A goal with this book is to rethink relationships between national parks and tribal nations, especially in light of shifts in federal policies over the past 20 years. It’s helpful to think that not everyone is going to come to the table with the same goals or interests, but we can find some room for collaboration.

“So, there are some discrepancies in terms of how the park service understands its job and the land resources, how it separates cultural resources versus natural resources, and the perspectives of tribes who may not distinguish between the two because they see the whole landscape as important or meaningful.”

Perspective of the tribes

Neely became interested in U.S. national parks and Native peoples in graduate school, when she studied Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Memorial in South Dakota’s Black Hills. Both sites exist on Native land, “so I was looking at how they grapple with this contested history,” Neely says. “How do national park sites work to include more people and tell a broader story?”

During the time Neely was doing her PhD research, Gerard Baker, a member of the Mandan-Hidatsa Tribe of the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation, became superintendent of Mount Rushmore National Memorial—the first Native American to earn the position. “I got interested in what he was working to do there,” Neely says, “bringing in the perspectives of the tribes, creating exhibits, bringing in Native speakers.”

In 2016, Neely was one of several researchers from the Center of the American West and the CU �ֲ��ý Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies to begin working with representatives from Rocky Mountain National Park and members of area tribes to expand interpretive programs and build collaborative relationships with the tribes.

Through this work and research she previously conducted for the 2014 sesquicentennial of the Sand Creek Massacre, Neely met Christina Gish Hill, an associate professor of anthropology and American Indian studies at Iowa State University, and Matthew Hill, an applied anthropologist who was principal investigator for two National Park Service projects focused on early American treaty-making and the Black Hills as a contested heritage landscape, her co-editors on National Parks, Native Sovereignty.

National Parks, Native Sovereignty presents case studies and interviews exploring pathways for collaboration in national parks that uphold tribal sovereignty.

Between 2016 and 2019, the researchers worked together on an ethnographic overview and assessment of Mount Rushmore for the National Park Service, seeking to understand the meaning of Mount Rushmore for Native people.

Talking about history

The idea for National Parks, Native Sovereignty came, in part, from a desire to highlight case studies from National Park Services sites, focusing on contemporary efforts to address the colonial history of U.S. national parks through research, outreach and collaborative partnerships with tribal nations, Neely says. It includes interviews with Gerard Baker and Max Bear, the tribal historic preservation officer for the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes of Oklahoma, among others, as well as research and commentary from scholars and historians.

“Our goal was to represent a wide range of folks and the kind of work that’s being done currently,” Neely says. “There’s a federal mandate to consult with tribal nations, and it’s a unique mandate because tribes have sovereignty, so these interactions are government-to-government, and consultation can vary considerably across park sites.

“We focused on efforts over the last 15, 20 years to broaden that consultation and engagement. We wanted to look at what parks are doing to build relationships, to establish co-stewardship or co-management or some steps toward that.”

Neely and her co-editors chose interviews and scholarship that represent a range of national parks, “some of them in very emergent stages of exploring this kind of work, all the way to ones that have some kind of co-management relationship with tribes,” Neely says.

For example, Natasha Myhal, who earned her PhD in the CU �ֲ��ý Department of Ethnic Studies, wrote about indigenous connections at Rocky Mountain National Park, and Clint Carroll, an associate professor of Native American and Indigenous studies in the Department of Ethnic Studies, focused on Cherokee medicine keepers and the making of a plant-gathering agreement at Buffalo National River in Arkansas.

“There are 574 federally recognized tribal nations with different views on how they want to engage with public land agencies,” Neely says. “We consider the painful histories, the lands that have been taken illegally, the customs and traditions that existed for centuries before the parks were established. So, this book looks at the push and pull of this conflict and collaboration, and at the way we educate and talk about our shared history and shared landscapes in this country.”

CU �ֲ��ý scholar documents plant-gathering agreement

In April 2022, the Cherokee Nation and the National Park Service signed a landmark agreement to designate a 1,000-acre site along the Buffalo National River in Arkansas as the Cherokee Nation Medicine Keepers Preserve.

Under the agreement, the National Park Service will issue an annual permit to the Cherokee Nation to gather 76 types of plants within the national river area, and the Cherokee Nation agrees to provide a list of those who will be gathering plants.

For Clint Carroll, an associate professor of Native American and Indigenous studies in the Department of Ethnic Studies and citizen of the Cherokee Nation, the agreement was a significant moment in his longtime work and research with the Cherokee people in Oklahoma on issues of land conservation and the perpetuation of land-based knowledge and ways of life.

Clint Carroll, an associate professor of Native American and Indigenous studies in the Department of Ethnic Studies and citizen of the Cherokee Nation, collaborated with Cherokee Medicine Keepers and research colleagues to study the desirability and feasibility of a plant-gathering agreement in Buffalo National River.

In most situations, taking plants from national park land is against federal law, but a 2016 rule protected plant gathering by members of federally recognized tribes. The Cherokee Medicine Keepers, with whom Carroll closely works, contributed “their expertise on land-based knowledge and stewardship practices that provided the basis for such a landmark agreement,” Carroll wrote.

The Cherokee Medicine Keepers also were the experts with whom Carroll and his co-researchers—Richard Stoffle, a professor of anthropology at the University of Arizona, and Michael Evans, a cultural anthropologist with the National Park Service—partnered while studying the desirability and feasibility of the Buffalo National River agreement, which research they detailed in “Returning to Gather: Cherokee Medicine Keepers, the National Park Service and the Making of a Plant-Gathering Agreement at Buffalo National River” for the book National Parks, Native Sovereignty.

“It was a multiyear collaboration that entailed multiple visits to the park and meetings with the elders,” Carroll explains. “One visit was to make sure the places elders would be gathering were safe and had amenities for them. The next visit entailed an ethnobotanical study, where a team of researchers from the University of Arizona interviewed the elders during a two-day event at Buffalo National River, asking them about the plants that would make up the list that is now represented through the agreement.”

Plants such as wild onion, sage, bloodroot, wild indigo and river cane have long been important to citizens of the Cherokee Nation for food, medicine, art and other purposes, Carroll explains. However, patchwork land divisions with differing ownership, as well as habitat loss related to climate change, have made some of these plants harder to access and harder to find.

In fact, many tribes still feel the effects of the Dawes Act, which divided communally held tribal lands into individually owned private property, so lands where Cherokee people had long gathered plants “can be private property, state land, other types of lands that Cherokee people simply don’t have access to anymore,” Carroll says.

“It’s an issue of not only limited access to land, but those places where Cherokee people were gathering, the plants they were seeking were less prevalent. So, it was these compounding factors that led to thinking about what else can we do to ensure that Cherokee people can continue to gather into generations beyond this one.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about the American West? Show your support.

In new book, CU �ֲ��ý scholar Brooke Neely explores pathways to uphold Native sovereignty in U.S. national parks.

Traditional

White

Lassoing light and capturing the magic between horse and rider

Anonymous — Tue, 19 Mar 2024 19:22:13 +0000

Lassoing light and capturing the magic between horse and rider Anonymous (not verified) Tue, 03/19/2024 - 13:22

Doug McPherson

Alumnus and professional photographer Chris Sessions explains how one of his first photo assignments 30 years ago in a CU �ֲ��ý class evolved into a cultural art exhibit

It’s fitting that in the mid-1990s one of Chris Sessions’ first photo assignments at the �ֲ��ý was covering a dog and pony show.

“The assignment was my first experience being close to horses and gave me a good understanding of their sensitivity and the care needed while interacting with them,” says Sessions (BA ’97), a professional photographer and videographer based in �ֲ��ý.

And now, 30 years later, Sessions’ photography related to horses is back at CU �ֲ��ý. His exhibit, “Charrería: Exploring the Human-Horse Connection in Mexican Rodeo,” is on display at the Center of the American West at CU �ֲ��ý through Oct. 17.

Chris Sessions (center) is a CU �ֲ��ý alumnus who has phtographed Mexican rodeo athletes for more than 10 years. (Photo: Chris Sessions via Instagram)

The show, already winning praise, is the culmination of 12 years of documentary work and features black-and-white and color photographs of charrería, the national sport of Mexico also known as Mexican rodeo, that dates back to the 16th century.

It turns out those ponies left an indelible impression on Sessions. As the years went by, he says, he’d often find himself pulling over to photograph horses on farms along �ֲ��ý’s eastern edge.

Then, one day in 2012, Sessions saw a notice for a Mexican rodeo at the Adams County Fair.

“I went and I was captivated,” he says. “Beyond the colorful culture and horsemanship, it was mostly the way the people carried themselves—conveying a deep sense of pride and elegance in their Mexican heritage and for the tradition that they’ve passed down the generations for hundreds of years.”

A dance between horse and rider

Sessions soon met the Torres family, who have nationally ranked men’s and women’s charrería teams that regularly perform at the Colorado State Fair, the National Western Stock Show and in competitions around Colorado, the United States and Mexico.

After sharing his work with the Torres family, they welcomed him to film and photograph the events and learn more about the sport. “This access provided ample opportunities for creativity and a deeper understanding into the cultural tradition, taking the documentary to a whole new level,” Sessions explains.

Sessions adds that his understanding of the human-horse connection comes from observing the charrería community.

“The nonverbal communication required between a well-trained horse and rider is a larger-than-life inspiration to experience and can only be described with subtlety and nuance, with words like extraordinary. It’s like a dance that brings the two beings together, moving in union, guided by an underlying magical force, and it’s this energetic intuition that I utilize while photographing the events.”

A participant in charrería, the national sport of Mexico also known as Mexican rodeo. (Photo: Chris Sessions)

Sessions also returned to CU �ֲ��ý this semester to visit students studying the American West and to talk about his work and his exhibit in Tamar McKee’s class. McKee is the manager of programs and operations at the Center of the American West, which brought the exhibit to life. Sessions, who spoke alongside Carolina Herrera, the escaramuza queen (similar to a rodeo queen), says speaking to the students felt like a full-circle moment.

“It was exciting to share the work with the students and to see their interest in learning more about the tradition.”

McKee says her students wrote initial impressions of the exhibit before Sessions’ and Herrera’s visit and then read and watched more resources to further understand not just the sport, but how it exists in Mexican-American culture given how a large swath of the western United States was carved out of Mexico.

“The end goal is to use the information Chris and Carolina shared, alongside the research and impressions of the students, to co-create an interpretive guide to the exhibit,” McKee says. “This is an example of how the Center of the American West seeks multiple perspectives and knowledge bases to provide deeper and more inclusive insight into the complexity of the region.”

Sessions says the work in the charrería exhibit is part of a larger project called Charros De Colorado, an ongoing exploration into the sport of charrería with multiple elements, including the short film “La Familia Charra,” which was included in a Denver-based film festival. The film was projected onto the History Colorado building and on a turn-of-the-century grain elevator in Denver’s River North neighborhood.

Sessions says he expects the images and footage will end up in a Charros De Colorado book project and feature film in the next two years.

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about the Center of the American West? Show your support.

Alumnus and professional photographer Chris Sessions explains how one of his first photo assignments 30 years ago in a CU �ֲ��ý class evolved into a cultural art exhibit.

Traditional

White

Can we improve the discussion about immigration?

Anonymous — Fri, 02 Oct 2020 17:02:15 +0000

Can we improve the discussion about immigration? Anonymous (not verified) Fri, 10/02/2020 - 11:02

Cay Leytham-Powell

New virtual conversation series from the Center of the American West takes aim at one of the most contentious issues this election.

Immigration is one of the most polarizing issues of the upcoming U.S. presidential election. A new event from the Center of the American West and the Latinx Law Students Association at the �ֲ��ý, however, hopes to clear the air by assembling a panel of immigration experts—including Congressman Joe Neguse.

The virtual event, moderated by Patty Limerick, director of the center, will be held over two days and will explore solutions and resolutions to the challenging issue. One conversation will take place before the election, on Oct. 6 at 6:30 p.m., and the other will take place after the election, on Nov. 13 at noon.

In the issue of immigration, ‘the Party of Practicality’ constitutes the true majority in the nation."

In addition to Neguse, the event’s speakers include Mary Mendoza, an assistant professor of history and Latino/a studies at Penn State University, and Tomás Jiménez, a professor of sociology and comparative studies of race and ethnicity at Stanford University.

“In the issue of immigration, ‘the Party of Practicality’ constitutes the true majority in the nation,” Limerick said. “With the issue of the effectiveness and expense of walls and fences, and with the issue of assimilation and legalization of people who have long resided in the United States, practicality and historical perspective are closely allied. This recognition will infuse our discussion on October 6 with good will and hope.”

Here are the questions that will drive this discussion:

If Congress were able to reform immigration policy in a post-election arrangement of authority, what should be the top priorities for such reform?
What are the most beneficial ways to increase historical understanding to improve the quality of public discussion of immigration and to guide national legislators as they deliberate?
What are the most notable mistaken impressions of the roles played by immigrants in the nation, and what are the most effective channels of communication for correcting those misapprehensions?

Event details include:

The Party of Practicality: An Innovative and Pragmatic Conversation on Immigration, Part I

Date: Oct. 6, 2020

Time: 6:30 – 8:30 p.m.

The Party of Practicality: An Innovative and Pragmatic Conversation on Immigration, Part II

Date: Nov 13, 2020

Time: 12 – 1:30 p.m.

New virtual conversation series from the Center of the American West takes aim at one of the most contentious issues this election

Off

Traditional

White

Howdy, partner! Welcome to Jackson Hole, China

Anonymous — Mon, 03 Feb 2020 21:59:33 +0000

Howdy, partner! Welcome to Jackson Hole, China Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 02/03/2020 - 14:59

British filmmaker Adam James Smith has memorialized the town in a documentary, Americaville, which he will screen on campus Feb. 7

North of Beijing, China, is a replica of Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where Chinese citizens come to escape an increasingly uninhabitable city life and live out their dreams of freedom, romance and spiritual fulfillment.

British filmmaker Adam James Smith has memorialized the town in the documentary Americaville, which he will screen at the �ֲ��ý this week.

Americaville will be shown Friday, Feb. 7, at 7:30 p.m. in Muenzinger Auditorium on campus. It is free and open to the public and will be followed by a talkback featuring the filmmaker.

The screening is part of the CU �ֲ��ý International Film Series and is sponsored by the Center for Asian Studies and the Center of the American West.

Director Adam James Smith with his production assistant and sound person.

Smith recently fielded questions about the film, its genesis and the assumptions Chinese people hold about the United States and vice versa. The questions and his answers follow:

Question: Jackson Hole, China, is fascinating for many reasons; what drew you to focus your lens on this topic?

Answer: Even though I'm from the United Kingdom, China and the United States have been a big part of my life since a very young age. My father was a businessman in both countries, and when he would return from trips to China and the United States, he would talk about his experiences over the kitchen table.

I think I internalized this as a child and from those stories, developed a deep interest in both societies. Later in life, I studied in the United States and lived on-and-off in China, where I worked as a teacher, journalist and then later as a filmmaker pursuing feature-length documentary films. After completing my first feature documentary, The Land of Many Palaces, filmed in China's infamous "ghost city" of Ordos on rural to urban migration, I wanted to look at the opposite movement of wealthy urban people looking to escape China's increasingly uninhabitable cities for rural or small-town life. I learned about Jackson Hole, China from a friend who told me about a "cowboy town" built up in the mountains, north of Beijing.

I managed to track the town down on a Chinese search engine, decided to rent a car and attempt to find the town from the vague address listed on the developer's website. Upon finding the town and persuading the security guards to let me in for a brief time, I miraculously stumbled across the founder and figurehead of Jackson Hole who invited me to stay for two nights.

Creating a feature documentary about this town presented an excellent opportunity to explore all of these converging interests. 

During this short stay, I was introduced to many people living and working in the community, plus prospective buyers whom I followed around with a real estate agent. After returning to the UK, I couldn't get this place out of my head—it represented an incredible collision of American and Chinese cultures, ideology and material-culture. As I held a deep interest in both China and America, in how American values and understandings about happiness have translated to foreign countries, and the global impact and influence of Hollywood cinematic representations; creating a feature documentary about this town presented an excellent opportunity to explore all of these converging interests.

Question: Jackson Hole, China, is said to promise a life of freedom, romance and spiritual fulfillment, and the implication is that many people in China hold certain assumptions about life in the United States. If you’ll excuse the generalities, what do Chinese people misunderstand about American life, and what do Americans fail to grasp about life in China?

Answer: Based on my experience talking to people in Jackson Hole, China, and living there, I would say there are a few misunderstandings about the United States. The United States is generally imagined as a country inhabited almost exclusively by white people. This was largely true in much of the United States prior to the Immigration Act of 1965, which has altered the racial fabric of American society and has led to the non-Hispanic white population dropping to around 60% nationally.

The United States they imagine is perhaps from the 1950s or from some other time period where people of European-descent dominated American life and popular culture. There's a selective fixation on certain aspects of American life in the Western states that tie in conveniently to preexisting Chinese tastes and cultural norms.

For example, there are images of the American nuclear family unit and of children around Jackson Hole, China, and in the town's marketing materials. This appeals to the Chinese emphasis on family and children—images of the lone cowboy and other representations of rugged individualism are notably absent. The American emphasis on happiness is something that has translated over to this particular community; however, it's poorly understood or defined.

Generally, Americans seem to imagine life in China to be very restrictive. In some instances, this is correct, and it was certainly the case in the past, but in recent years Chinese people have enjoyed many choices in the materials aspects of their lives.

Many of those living in Jackson Hole, China, explained how they grew up under very strict Communist conditions and coming out of that period it felt very empowering to be able to exercise the right to decide to move to an American-themed town, for example, that embodies many of the tangible things they want that have been lacking in their lives—such as large living quarters, a yard, mountainous surroundings—and also intangible aspects like happiness, freedom and spiritual fulfillment.

Annie Liu outside her home with a rose.

Question: As you made this film, what discovery did you find most surprising?

Answer: Prior to starting this project, I assumed these kinds of replica foreign towns in China—which are actually very common—were superficial, crass and represented a kind of identity crisis in contemporary China. However, since shooting Americaville in Jackson Hole, China, and visiting many other replica foreign towns throughout the country, I realized that there's a kind of embedding of Chinese culture taking place in these developments and a reconciliation of Chinese culture and whatever foreign characteristics are being adopted.

From my research, I also uncovered a long history of the Chinese replicating foreign design elements from the known world. These foreign town developments in China are actually very complex places to understand, and I think even after years of research, I'm still discovering new layers to unpack.

British filmmaker Adam Smith has memorialized the town in a documentary, Americaville, which he will screen on campus Feb. 7

Off

Traditional

White

Event aims to help ‘unstick’ climate conversation

Anonymous — Thu, 30 Jan 2020 22:38:53 +0000

Event aims to help ‘unstick’ climate conversation Anonymous (not verified) Thu, 01/30/2020 - 15:38

Cay Leytham-Powell

An upcoming CU �ֲ��ý event brings speakers from diverse backgrounds in the hopes of discussing the most polarizing issue of our time.

Climate change is a politically decisive issue that divides the public—but it wasn’t always that way. And an event at the �ֲ��ý hopes to provide some semblance of relief.

The event, a panel discussion titled “Why are we stuck on dealing with climate change and how do we get ‘unstuck,’” features speakers from various backgrounds and across the political aisle in the hopes of offering insight into why the United States is so gridlocked and what steps might be taken to get past those barriers.

The discussion is hosted by the Center of the American West and will be held Feb. 6 at 6:30 p.m. in the CASE Auditorium on campus.

“In a time of polarization and division on innumerable issues, our nation's inability to convene productive conversations on climate change can seem to be locked in place. But for more a quarter century, the Center of the American West has refused a sense of defeat and inevitability,” said Patty Limerick, the center’s faculty director and a professor of history.

“The timing seems right for us to host an evening with a group of speakers characterized by their good will and civic engagement.”

Since 2000, concern over climate change has become more polarized, with Democrats increasingly worrying “a great deal” while Republicans are worrying less and less, according to a 2017 Gallup Poll. And that divide has only grown, according to a recent Yale University study, which found that the issue is now even more polarizing than abortion or gun rights.

This political polarization has made discussion almost impossible between the two parties. But, by bringing speakers together from across the aisle with a diversity of experiences, the Center of the American West hopes this event can unstick the dialogue, even if just a little.

Event Details

Date: Feb. 6, 2020
Time: 6:30 p.m.
Location: CASE Auditorium, CU �ֲ��ý

Reserve your ticket

“I am certain that we are assembling the right cast of characters to make real progress,” said Limerick.

The cast includes:

Tisha Schuller, the principal of Adamantine Energy and the former head of the Colorado Oil and Gas Association.
Claudine Schneider, the former Republican congresswomen who wrote the Global Warming Prevention Act of 1989.
Leaf Van Boven, a CU �ֲ��ý psychology and neuroscience professor.
Dan Palken, a conservative fellow from Citizens’ Climate Lobby and a physics graduate student at CU �ֲ��ý.

For each speaker, the event represents something a little different, but they all agree: This is an issue we need to solve.

For some of the speakers, it involves figuring out how we got here.

“America faces a great challenge in climate change, and we will not be able to confront it adequately if we do not recall our shared sense of purpose as Americans,” said Palken.

“Rather than letting the conversation around climate and energy fall prey to the polarization that paralyzes so much in our country, it is important that Republicans and Democrats alike make a conscious effort to extend real dialogue across political lines.”

Van Boven agrees: “The event will provide a forum to understand why we are polarized over climate policy—and how we can overcome that polarization. The panel is an important opportunity for liberals and conservatives to discuss policy solutions to climate change, to identify areas of common ground, and to respectfully acknowledge areas of disagreement.”

For others, this event represents a look to the future.

"It is my intention that this event inform, inspire and mobilize those in attendance to be part of the solution, as opposed to concerned observers,” said Schneider.

Either way, the speakers are thankful for the Center of the American West for hosting the event and bringing them together.

“Getting unstuck on climate progress requires new approaches and novel participants—solutions we haven’t imagined yet,” said Schuller. “I love how the center creates the opportunity for that magic to happen, and I expect it will.”

The event is free and open to the public, but advance tickets are required and are available on Eventbrite.

An upcoming CU �ֲ��ý event brings speakers from diverse backgrounds in the hopes of discussing the most polarizing issue of our time.

Off

Traditional

White

Former GOP, Dem congressmen stump for respectful discourse

Anonymous — Wed, 04 Dec 2019 23:22:49 +0000

Former GOP, Dem congressmen stump for respectful discourse Anonymous (not verified) Wed, 12/04/2019 - 16:22

Clint Talbott

In Dec. 10 CU �ֲ��ý event, Bob Beauprez and Mark Udall will discuss how bipartisanship (and friendship) happen

Partisans in Congress are often adversaries, but they can also be civil, collegial and, believe it or not, friends. That’s the message Bob Beauprez and Mark Udall want to convey, and they’ll be here next week to do so.

Beauprez, a Republican and former congressman, and Udall, a Democrat and former U.S. senator, will appear at an event called “Bipartisanship (and friendship) happen!” on Dec. 10 at 6:30 p.m. in the Glenn Miller Ballroom on the �ֲ��ý campus.

Free tickets are available online at this link.

The event, which is sponsored by the CU �ֲ��ý Center of the American West, will be moderated Patty Limerick, the center’s faculty director and professor of history; and Charles Wilkinson, the university’s Moses Lasky professor of law emeritus.

Beauprez and Udall recently fielded five questions about their partisanship and friendship. Separately, Limerick answered questions about the significance of the issue. Their responses are below:

Question: As former representatives in Congress, do you think the level of partisan acrimony seen today is greater than it was when you served? If so, why do you think it’s worsened?

Former U.S. Rep. Bob Beauprez

Beauprez: Most definitely! I thought the atmosphere was very acrimonious when I was in Congress, particularly in 2005-06 as weariness with the Iraq war permeated society. But, it's far worse now, and far more personal. The "why" is complicated and multi-faceted, but a big part of it is due to the hardened polarization of our entire culture.

It seems that virtually everyone has moved to the far left or far right of the political spectrum and the big bulge in the middle where historically most people lived (a little left or right of center) has largely disappeared. The bell curve has essentially been inverted.

I’m convinced that there is still far more on which we agree as Americans than what irrevocably divides us. President Reagan’s words of wisdom have been discarded, “The person who agrees with you 80 percent of the time is a friend and an ally—not a 20 percent traitor." Today we focus on division rather than consensus.

Since Congress is a reflection of the nation, members increasingly seem to be "playing to a base" of support depending on whether a member's district or state leans right or left in search of that critical 50% + 1 to win election. It's no secret that winning election, and especially re-election, is the top priority of virtually every member of Congress. If the electorate was more civil, more willing to seek and find common-ground, we'd see candidates reflecting those values. But, so much of society seems to be more interested in "resisting" and finding someone who will "fight" rather than finding a way to thread the needle of understanding to get things done. Politicians largely reflect the electorate they represent.

Former U.S. Sen and U.S. Rep Mark Udall

Udall: Yes, the partisan acrimony is greater than when I served. It’s worsened for reasons that are not hard to identify: social media, gerrymandering for the U.S. House seats, constant fundraising, little time in D.C. to actually build relationships with members of your party and the other party, and the permanent campaign are leaders are engaged in. We’ve effectively built a political system that values polemics over policy and soundbites over sound policy making. There’s less incentive and time to work across the aisle when you are constantly running against your potential allies and their party.

And it’s important to acknowledge that the American people are divided over a host of issues and challenges our society and world

Question: Is there a particular danger you see in today’s level of political discord?

Beauprez: America has always had great diversity of opinion and fierce debate. That's healthy. And, it's also protected by our Constitution. But, when we lose respect for that difference of opinion, for the individual, for common decency—well, then we've lost a vital part of the soul of American exceptionalism.

Udall: Partisanship is poisonous to progress. I’ve seen it firsthand and see it with more frequency today. Lawmakers appear to be more focused on how to force their ideas through the political process instead of finding ways to bridge the political divide and engaging in the hard work of collaboration.

Extreme partisanship also has larger opportunity costs. While our ship of state is rudderless and our historic leadership internationally MIA, other countries and less scrupulous leaders are filling the vacuum.

Question: As citizens and, apparently, friends, what things do you share, and where do you diverge?

Beauprez: Mark and I share a natural and deep love of the West—the land, water, wildlife and culture. And we share a deep respect and love for the greatest nation in the history of the earth and the critical importance of sustaining this republic. We probably also see a very similar set of great challenges that today's America faces. And, while we may differ on what some of the best solutions are to accomplish the objective, our hearts are largely in the same place.

Udall: I can’t speak for Bob directly, but I know we share a love of our country and our special state of Colorado. We agreed to be friends when we served in the U.S. House together. We also both hew to the concept that you can disagree without being disagreeable. I think Westerners have more of inclination to find common ground than people from other parts of the country. Our shared history which includes plenty of tragedy and violence has taught us that working together to educate our children, provide health care for our sick, infrastructure to improve our lives, and economic policies that balance profits and community needs must be the number one priority of our political leaders. Those leaders who are overtly partisan and political don’t last long in Colorado.

I’ll find out as will the audience (and Bob too) where we agree and disagree at the forum on Dec. 10.

Question: �ֲ��ý issues on which you find yourselves in sharp disagreement, how do you discuss them collegially and rationally?

Beauprez: It's largely about respect. It’s also about perspective—looking for the larger areas of agreement rather than only differences, which are often subtle. Sometimes there's a little common-ground that can be shared. Sometimes there isn't. You simply have to respect that difference of opinion and move on.

Unfortunately, as I said above, much of today's electorate isn't in that frame of mind. The electorate—especially the hardcore loyal activists in both parties—don't reward bipartisan consensus; they penalize it. The singular issue that they are from the other party is often all that is necessary to define irreconcilable differences. Thus, the chosen representatives of those people aren't likely to reflect values different from the folks that elected them.

Udall: There’s no formula as to how to discuss differences collegiality and rationally. At times you have to disagree and move on. I think it’s also appropriate to disagree in public and with the press but with as little rancor and vitriol as possible. That’s leadership when you respect the other person’s point of view.

Another way to answer the question is I would approach a policy disagreement with a colleague like I would a close friend. You must listen, consider, not question the other person’s motives and explore any common ground. Humor helps. Bill Clinton famously quipped, “I have a lot of Republican friends. They are good people, but they’re just wrong.” Republicans could say the same about Democrats.

Question: Why is it important now to have these across-the-aisle conversations?

Beauprez: To use a very obvious example, look at today's political environment in Washington. On any significant issue, members of one-party vote "Aye" and the other "Nay." There is no coming together on common-ground and nothing gets accomplished. The national debt balloons, immigration reform remains unresolved, patients and providers go wanting for healthcare certainty, and the business of government lurches to-and-fro on continuing resolutions and executive orders regardless of which party has the president in the White House. Good government and what's best for the 330 million Americans living outside the beltway take a backseat to bitter partisan rigidity.

Udall: It’s always been important to have these across-the-aisle-conversations. They are always occurring in my experience at every level of government. But at the federal level, if we as a country are going to maintain our international leadership role (which is a form of enlightened self-interest), those now private, off-the-record conversations have to also now be held in public.

Why: To rebuild trust and faith in our democracy here at home and abroad and to help our leaders deliver on their commitments. When you have public discussions and leaders make commitments, those commitments aren’t easily discarded or dismissed.

It’s also important to have these across-the-aisle discussions because our public discourse has devolved to a dangerous level and tone. We are sailing into uncharted waters that may irrevocably damage our ship of state and by extension our society.

Finally, although we are living in most affluent and prosperous country in the history of the world, the challenges we face—income inequality, authoritarian governments on the rise, climate change and energy supplies, health care costs to name my list—will only be met and turned into opportunities if a significant majority of our national political leaders decide to work together.

For her part, Limerick gave a historical view of civic discourse in her answer to two questions, as follows:

Question: We often hear people say that the quality of civic discourse is at or near an all-time low, but as a historian, what is your view of this?

Patty Limerick, faculty director of the Center of the American West

Limerick: Historians always have to say that the era before the Civil War, and the Civil War itself, were the "all-time low." But then we are also obligated to say that there was a crucially important issue at stake, and the crucial importance to the nation of the abolition of slavery has to figure in our evaluation of that dire period of contention and violence.

Maybe even more important, historians have to offer their fellow citizens the reminder that the recognition that the nation has endured worse times of polarization cannot be much of a consolation to us today. Yes, the mid-19th century was the all-time low, but that recognition does not prohibit us from recognizing that polarization and division are in a very bad condition today. We should be concerned about our current troubles, and we should take every opportunity to seek remedies and antidotes for these troubles, rather than saying fatalistically—and unhelpfully—"Things could be worse."

Question: Regardless of whether discourse is worse than ever or simply bad, what can regular citizens do to improve it?

Limerick: Citizens should head to the Glenn Miller Ballroom at 6:30 p.m. on Tuesday, Dec. 10, to hear the conversation between former Congressmen Bob Beauprez and Mark Udall! Well, yes, that may sound like institutional self-promotion, but the bigger point is that we should seize every opportunity, first, to establish and celebrate our common ground, and then, second, to explore our differences and disagreements with civility, respect, and—maybe most important, curiosity.

I am very glad that we have received support that will position the Dec. 10 event as the first in a series, where good souls demonstrate their ability to recognize each other's dignity and value as human beings, rather than dehumanize and even demonize those who hold opinions and positions that may befuddle and bewilder us.

Not to engage in further "product promotion," but �ֲ��ý's entrepreneurial scene presents another fine opportunity: persuading antagonists and opponents to gather around to assemble one of Chris Wirth's beautiful jigsaw puzzles might make a significant difference in giving civil discourse a new lease on life, while literally solving a puzzle!

In Dec. 10 CU �ֲ��ý event, Bob Beauprez and Mark Udall will discuss how bipartisanship (and friendship) happen

Off

Traditional

White

‘Climate of fear’ can erode social fabric, Japanese American scholar says

Anonymous — Mon, 06 Feb 2017 02:48:33 +0000

‘Climate of fear’ can erode social fabric, Japanese American scholar says Anonymous (not verified) Sun, 02/05/2017 - 19:48

Courtney Packard

Tom Ikeda, founder of Japanese American Legacy Project, to give keynote address at CU �ֲ��ý event on Feb. 23

Parallels between the political climate 75 years ago, when 120,000 Japanese Americans were sent to internment camps, and today, raise red flags, says Tom Ikeda, the founder of Densho: The Japanese American Legacy Project.

Tom Ikeda

“In a climate today, where we think perhaps Muslims, whether they’re immigrants or United States citizens, might be suspicious or a threat, the big takeaway for people to remember is what happens when our country is fearful and has racial prejudices,” Ikeda said.

“If people become fearful enough…it will break down the fabric of our society,” he added

This month, Ikeda will be the keynote speaker at an event here commemorating Japanese American internment: “Remembering the Japanese-American Internment: 75 Years.”

The event will be held at the �ֲ��ý on Feb. 23 from 4:30-7 p.m. in the British and Irish Studies Room in Norlin Library. The event is hosted by the CU �ֲ��ý Center for Asian Studies.

The Japanese word “densho” means “to pass on to the next generation.” Founded in 1996, Densho is a digital archive that collects and preserves the testimonies of Japanese Americans incarcerated during World War II.

The online database includes interviews, documents, photographs and newspaper clippings, as well as over 900 oral histories from Japanese Americans who lived in what are officially called internment camps but which Ikeda terms concentration camps.

Tom Ikeda’s grandparents Fred Suyekichi and Akino Kinoshita (left and center) receive a flag in honor of their son Staff Sergeant Francis “Bako” Kinoshita, killed in action in World War II, accompanied by a family friend. The photo was taken in the Minidoka, Idaho, incarceration camp. Bako Kinoshita had been incarcerated there until he volunteered to serve in the U.S. Army. Photo courtesy of Tom Ikeda.

“Hearing the personal stories, for me, has a stronger impact than just reading it in history books,” Ikeda said. He recalls sitting across from a woman who, after sharing her story, said she now felt she could die.

“It was like an emotional release for many of them. They had been holding back these memories…for 50 years,” Ikeda continued. Ikeda himself is a third-generation Japanese American whose parents and grandparents were incarcerated during World War II at Minidoka, Idaho.

“What we’ve witnessed with families and communities is this healing process,” said Ikeda. Twenty-one years into Densho’s work, “it’s much easier for people to share their stories.”

Ikeda contends that sharing the stories from this dark time in America’s history is extremely relevant today.

“It’s really important for all of us to remember the mistakes of the past so we don’t repeat them,” Ikeda said. “It may not be exactly what happened in the incarceration. It may be a registry of a particular group because of their religion or enhanced surveillance. Things like that will really start breaking down the fabric of our society.”

In light of President Trump’s recent executive order barring immigrants from seven Muslim-majority countries from entering the United States, reflecting on the mistakes of the past sparks a discussion about democracy, civil rights, and citizen responsibility.

“We take so much for granted,” Ikeda said. “We believe that as citizens we will be given certain protections and we don’t really have to worry. What students need to know is that these things can happen.”

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, Japanese-American citizens faced prejudice and suspicion from neighbors and government officials alike. Today, Ikeda hopes people can see the danger in making assumptions based on fear.

“In a climate of fear, whether it’s real or manufactured, people want to feel safe. To characterize a whole group and treat them as guilty is where it falls apart,” he said. “When confronted with this fearful climate, rather than shrink back from it, we should reach out to each other.”

When Ikeda visits �ֲ��ý this month, he will weave some stories he’s collected into the larger historical narrative of what was happening 75 years ago, as well as address why it’s important to commemorate this event today.

“What we find is that every story is unique,” Ikeda said of the stories he’s been told. “What the oral histories have done is to really give us a perspective from the individual. It’s not black and white, how people thought about and what they did in camps and after camps. It varies from person to person. I think it’s important that these stories are told.”

He added, “The more we get to know each other, what we find is how common our stories are.”

“Remembering the Japanese-American Internment: 75 Years” is cohosted by the CU �ֲ��ý Center of the American West as well as the history and ethnic studies departments. Ikeda's presentation will be followed by a panel discussion comprising Patty Limerick, director of the Center of the American West; Daryl Maeda, associate professor of ethnic studies; and Marcia Yonemoto, assocate professor of history.

Tom Ikeda, founder of Japanese American Legacy Project, to give keynote address at CU �ֲ��ý event on Feb. 23.

Off

Traditional

White

Center of the American West

Beyond Custer’s Last Stand: The forces that led to the Battle of the Little Bighorn

Related Articles

‘What my great-grandmother saw at Little Bighorn’

Related Articles

Thomas Andrews is new director of the Center of the American West

Related Articles

Balancing fraught history and modern collaboration in America’s ‘best idea’

Related Articles

Lassoing light and capturing the magic between horse and rider

Related Articles

Can we improve the discussion about immigration?

New virtual conversation series from the Center of the American West takes aim at one of the most contentious issues this election.

Off

Howdy, partner! Welcome to Jackson Hole, China

British filmmaker Adam James Smith has memorialized the town in a documentary, Americaville, which he will screen on campus Feb. 7

Off

Event aims to help ‘unstick’ climate conversation

Off

Former GOP, Dem congressmen stump for respectful discourse

In Dec. 10 CU �ֲ��ý event, Bob Beauprez and Mark Udall will discuss how bipartisanship (and friendship) happen

Off

‘Climate of fear’ can erode social fabric, Japanese American scholar says

Tom Ikeda, founder of Japanese American Legacy Project, to give keynote address at CU �ֲ��ý event on Feb. 23

Off

Center of the American West

Beyond Custer’s Last Stand: The forces that led to the Battle of the Little Bighorn

Related Articles

‘What my great-grandmother saw at Little Bighorn’

Related Articles

Thomas Andrews is new director of the Center of the American West

Related Articles

Balancing fraught history and modern collaboration in America’s ‘best idea’

Related Articles

Lassoing light and capturing the magic between horse and rider

Related Articles

Can we improve the discussion about immigration?

New virtual conversation series from the Center of the American West takes aim at one of the most contentious issues this election.

Off

Howdy, partner! Welcome to Jackson Hole, China

British filmmaker Adam James Smith has memorialized the town in a documentary, Americaville, which he will screen on campus Feb. 7

Off

Event aims to help ‘unstick’ climate conversation

Off

Former GOP, Dem congressmen stump for respectful discourse

In Dec. 10 CU �ֲ���ý event, Bob Beauprez and Mark Udall will discuss how bipartisanship (and friendship) happen

Off

‘Climate of fear’ can erode social fabric, Japanese American scholar says

Tom Ikeda, founder of Japanese American Legacy Project, to give keynote address at CU �ֲ���ý event on Feb. 23

Off

In Dec. 10 CU �ֲ��ý event, Bob Beauprez and Mark Udall will discuss how bipartisanship (and friendship) happen

Tom Ikeda, founder of Japanese American Legacy Project, to give keynote address at CU �ֲ��ý event on Feb. 23