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The noble savage is an icon in American culture. He (not she) knows the ways of the wilderness, understands nature, and is at peace with his surroundings. The image has a history in American thought stretching back to at least the nineteenth century. Literature of the frontier by people like James Fenimore Cooper introduced the traits of this character, while artists like George Catlin implanted the image in the American mind. The same imagery can be found in contemporary fiction and film, though the stereotypes are beginning to be seen less often.
There was another image of American Indians, however. One not romantic, but horrific. This savage, warring Indian is less prominent in the American consciousness today because of our romanticization of the American West, as well as our collective guilt over the treatment of Indians by our own government. Still, the Makah knew the danger of being seen as this sort of Indian. In hunting the whale, the Makah had to walk this fine line between savage and noble savage.
In his book, Skull Wars, David Hurst Thomas, Curator of Archaeology at the American Museum of Natural History, tells of a Hopi leader who once explained why American Indians embrace popular images of themselves that originate in non-native culture. The Hopi, who Thomas does not identify by name, said employing stereotypes is a strategy to gain power and ensure cultural survival. "Is [our sovereignty recognized] simply because we look like Indians, we speak our language, we live like Indians?" he asked. "Once that’s all gone, we are part of the mainstream society (Thomas, 2000: 185)." And as part of the mainstream, American Indians would have to conform to a mainstream ideology that could destroy many of their traditional rights or possibly prevent them from continuing, or reviving their traditions at all.
Native rights, explains Thomas, were a product of historical stereotypes. They are based on assumptions, often racist, that were typical of the time in which the treaties were signed. Thomas’ Hopi informant argues that these stereotypes, though they may be deceptive, are necessary . " Should Indians become indistinguishable from whites," says the Hopi, "Congress might begin to assume that assimilation was complete, and step away from defending the treaty-guaranteed rights" (Thomas, 2000: 185).
This idea of "looking Indian" is nothing new. Throughout American history, there have been primarily two ways to look Indian: the noble and the savage (Krech, 1999: 16-17). Anthropologist Shephard Krech equates the noble Indian with his own term, ecological Indian. This embodiment of native identity takes from the land only what he needs, and thanks the earth for what he takes. The savage, on the other hand, kills without reason or thought, destroying human and animal life because of his supposed inferior intellect. (Krech, 1999: 16)
Both mass America and natives themselves have employed the idea of the American Indian as ecological, often as a political tactic. As early as the 1910s Arthur Parker, a member of the Seneca tribe, used popular images to humanize Indianness and make them appealing to the mainstream. In doing so, Parker makes being an Indian sound so appealing that he suggests a "Pan-Indianness" for the entire continent:
By working within the cultural framework of American culture, Parker places Indians above other immigrants ("imported Americans"), implying the whole Euro-American race, from the Pilgrims on. He cites scientists and uses their word, "redskin" embracing the language and the images placed upon Indians from outside; yet he claims spiritual superiority for the Indians who "have life right". By employing stereotypes, Parker is able to convincingly assert a positive image of Indians, setting them on a higher plane than work-a-day America. (Thomas, 2000: 181-183) One of the most remembered and most powerful uses of the image of Krech’s ecological Indian, is that of Iron Eyes Cody shedding a single tear in Keep America Beautiful’s 1971 campaign to end pollution. Today, however, there seems to be a rift in the former unity of concerns between native rights activists and environmentalists. Krech gets at this division when he describes the difference between conservation and preservation. As environmentalism has gotten more extreme and nature has become an entity to preserve in and of itself, conservation—the setting aside for responsible use—is seen by most environmental groups as harmful. American Indians, on the other hand, have a history of using nature, whereas environmentalists have a history of observing nature. "Take only memories, leave only footprints" is the modern environmentalist’s motto, while "take only what you need," the native motto, has been pushed aside. This shift in environmentalist ideology, from preservation to conservation, seems like a slight extension of beliefs, but it is a large enough shift to get some environmentalists to oppose native rights when it comes to hunting a whale. The main player in the anti-Makah, anti-whaling protests was the Sea Shepherd Conservation Group, a California-based organization established to protect marine life. President Paul Watson sought to physically block the Makah hunt with private boats and a decommissioned Norwegian Navy submarine painted to resemble a killer whale. The sub was equipped with killer whale sounds meant to scare the gray whales away. In the end, the Coast Guard was enlisted to keep all boats away from the Makah canoe. (Sullivan, 1998) It is important to note the difference in the boats of the Makah and those of Sea Shepherd. Their different choices reflect their very different ideas of "the whale." The Sea Shepherd painted their boat like a whale, thus representing the whale as an object within human control, whose purpose is aesthetic, not functional. Theirs was an act of aggression, using the symbol of the whale to protect the species. The Makah, on the other hand, had a canoe carved and painted not to resemble a whale, but to represent their heritage as whalers. To the Makah, the whale provides more than aesthetic pleasure, it is meant to be used and felt physically, both for the community and the whaler himself. "Would it be an electrical charge from the animal to me?" wondered whaler Micah McCarty before the hunt. "What will the animal feel in its heart? What would it be like? What would it be like to be there with the whale (Sullivan 1998)?"
Successful communication between Makah and protestors was near impossible. The two differing ideologies concerning spirituality and nature, were irreconcilable. To the protestors, the connection with the whale is made as a passive observer; to the Makah, the connection is physical. Journalist Robert Sullivan relates this telling interaction of two Makah whalers, Donnie and Wayne, with one protestor:
This exchange shows how little the environmentalists understood the need for, and reasons behind, the whaling revival. It is not just to communicate with a whale but to communicate with ancestors. For the Makah, the hunt is only peripherally about the whale, it is primarily about ritual and heritage. Steph Dutton, from In the Path of Giants, another group of protesters, held a slide show for the Makah to try to discourage them from hunting. While showing an image of a gray whale, he stated, "Maybe you can get a sense of the magic that you can feel when you are out there with these creatures" (Sullivan, 2000: 99). Again, the protestors expected the Makah to understand their form of passive spiritual communion with the whale as an experience that can be substituted for the action of the hunt. The Makah spiritual tradition, however, is not just about the relationship between whale and whaler, or whale and whale watcher. It is about community, sharing food, and performing rituals—things that can not be experienced by one man touching a whale.
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