An admirable, though not entirely groundbreaking, revisionist history of post-Columbian North America; one that shifts our focus away from the colonial powers that made ludicrously bold territorial claims but typically lacked the substantial power to make those claims anything more than tenuous, self-flattering fictions, and instead centers the Indigenous nations that dominated the heart of the continent militarily, economically, culturally, and demographically until well into the nineteenth century; the preeminent shapers of the fortunes and folkways of the landmass. Reversing familiar tropes about Native American history, Hämäläinen presents a story not of noble savages, primitive and naïve but spiritually attuned, being inevitably steamrolled by the technological superiority, material greed, lethal pathogens, and eventual population disparities brought to bear against them by White colonists, but rather of the astonishing skill and persistence with which the Indigenous nations, for centuries after the colonial project began, defeated the colonists in battle, coerced them into submission diplomatically, corralled them into isolated settlements, exploited them for access to their weapons and other technologies, pitted them against each other for their own benefit, created vast intertribal bulwarks that shielded great and small nations alike from imperial expansion, and utilized a social system based on personal merit, egalitarian decision-making processes, and extensive, durable, and adaptable kinship networks to foil colonial pretensions and adjust nimbly to changing conditions on the frontier.
Consider this remarkable fact: from the middle of the seventeenth century, when the Five Nations (later Six) of the Iroquois Confederacy, decimated by smallpox, began a long series of “Mourning Wars,”—in which thousands of people from rival nations were captured and transformed into born-again Iroquois to replace the fallen, spurring a period of rapid Iroquois ascendancy—arguably until the expulsion of the French from the continent in 1763, the most powerful empire in the present-day United States was not Britain, France, or Spain, but that of the Iroquois themselves. The Iroquois battered the French-aligned Great Lakes tribes into submission, monopolized trade with the French outposts on the St. Lawrence river, assisted the English by helping defeat Metacom’s Wampanoag-Narragansett coalition, established a Covenant Chain between New England and Iroquoia that hemmed in English expansion, and forced Albany and Montreal, each eager for the pelts, lands, and people to which the Iroquois controlled access, to compete as supplicants for the favor of Onondaga. The Five Nations lived in towns imposing enough that European observers often described them as “forts” or “castles,” governed themselves with a sophisticated intertribal political system, conducted an astute and multifaceted foreign policy, and established contacts as far away as present-day South Carolina. The utility of the comparatively weak European settlements as ports of entry for valuable Old World goods often drew the surrounding Indigenous nations aggressively towards the colonists who claimed to rule them, producing furious intra-Indigenous clashes, the victor of which would enjoy the benefits of European products while keeping European power firmly in check.
Even after the United States gained a titular continental supremacy in the mid-nineteenth century, the Lakota and Comanche empires, which dominated the great plains and spanned a north-south axis running from Minnesota to northern Mexico, proved an implacable obstacle to the consolidation of the American west. Though by this time far more numerous and well-armed than the Natives, the Americans struggled to project power into the arid, sparse, poorly-navigable, and (for an urban, sedentary society) weakly-defensible lands beyond the Mississippi, leaving the region dotted with small towns based around extractive industries (namely mining and ranching) and vulnerable to reprisals from the horse lords who—far more quickly and successfully than the Americans—made the interior west their home. Because Indigenous power was rooted primarily in kinship networks rather than strategically-crucial cities, forts, or natural features, the Lakotas, Comanches, and smaller nations under their aegis could easily outmaneuver the U.S. Army, avoid giving battle in unfavorable conditions, evade capture, and materialize in unexpected places. The Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876, in which George A. Custer’s 7th Cavalry Regiment suffered a legendary defeat at the hands of the Lakota and their Cheyenne and Arapaho allies, far from a mere fluke, was merely a powerful demonstration of the advantages the Natives had over the U.S. Army on their own soil, even into the late nineteenth century.
Sadly, it was the very advantageousness of the Native kinship relations that prompted the long-frustrated United States to wage campaigns of genocidal ferocity against them. Following the American Civil War, the United States, as Hämäläinen points out, launched two reconstruction projects, both aimed at accomplishing the real sovereignty of the U.S. government over the territories it officially controlled. In addition to the more familiar Reconstruction regime in the south, the United States also undertook a “reconstruction” effort in the west: namely, a concerted, systematic campaign to destroy Indigenous power and “civilize,” i.e. assimilate, Indigenous people. Since the people themselves were the basis of Native resistance, it was the people themselves who were subjugated piecemeal, cordoned off into reservations, enrolled in Indian schools, and, most notoriously, outright massacred in such infamous atrocities as those at Sand Creek and Wounded Knee.
Hämäläinen’s Native-centered history may be an overcorrection of the traditional narrative, but it could be a necessary one.