"How can you buy or sell the sky, not even the heat of the earth? This idea is not unknown. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy? Each plot this land is sacred to my people. Each bright, pine bush, every grain of sand on the shore, every mist in the dark woods, every hill and up the sound of each insect is holy in the memory and the past my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the Reds.
The white man's dead forget the country of origin when they take their walks among the stars, but instead as is the mother of the red. We are part of the land, and also it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters, the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the wet meadows, the body heat of the horse and man, all belong to the same family. For all of them, when the Great Chief in Washington sends the message that you want to buy our land, says that we set aside a place where we can live comfortably with us. He is our father and us. Therefore, we consider its offer to buy our land. This is not easy, because this land is sacred to us. The crystal clear water that flows through the rivers and streams is not only water but also represents the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories of the lives of our people. The water's murmur is the voice of the father of my parents, the rivers are our brothers they quench our thirst, they carry our canoes and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember and teach their children that the rivers are our brothers and so are his, and therefore must treat them with the same gentleness with which you treat a brother.
know that the white man does not understand our way of life. He does not know the difference between a piece of land and another, since it is a stranger who comes at night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother but his enemy and once conquered moves on, leaving behind the graves of his parents without care. He kidnaps the earth for their children. Does not care. Both the grave of their parents as their children's heritage is forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth and its brother, the sky, as things to be bought, operated and sold like sheep or securities accounts. His appetite will devour the earth leaving behind only a desert.
No s's, but our way of life is different to yours. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red. But perhaps either because the red man is a savage and does not understand.
There is no quiet place in the white man's cities, and no place to hear the tree leaves in spring or fluttering insects. But perhaps this must be because I am a savage who does not understand. The noise only seems to insult the ears and after all, what good is life for if the man can not hear the cry of the whippoorwill or the solidarity night discussions of frogs around a pond? I am a red man and do not understand. We prefer the soft whisper of wind on the surface of a pond and the smell of the wind purified by midday rain, or scented with aromas of pine.
The air is precious to the red, and that all beings share the same breath, the beast, the tree, man, we all breathe the same air. The white man does not seem aware of the air you breathe, like a dying man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you should keep them as something apart and sacred, a place where even the white man can taste the wind scented flowers of the prairies.
therefore consider its offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I will set one condition: The white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers.
I am a savage and do not understand any other way of life. I've seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairies, shot by the white man from a train. I am a savage and do not understand how a smoking machine can import more than the buffalo that we kill only to survive.
What would the man without the beasts? If all were exterminated, the man would die from great loneliness of spirit, because what happens to animals will also happen to man. All things are connected.
should teach their children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. Inculcate their children that the earth is rich with the lives of our neighbors so they know to respect it.
Teach your children that we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the soil. If men spit upon the ground they spit upon themselves.
This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to earth. All things are connected.
All things are connected like the blood that unites one family, all things are connected. Everything
befalls the earth befalls the sons of the soil. Man did not weave the web of life: he is a single thread. Whatever he does to the web, he does himself.
Even the white man, whose God walks and talk to the friend to friend, is not exempt from the common destiny. After all, you might be brothers. We'll see. We know one thing the white man may one day discover, our God is the same God.
You may think now that belongs to them, just wanting to own our land, but it is not. He is the God of men and his compassion is shared equally between the red and the white man. This land has an unquestionable value and if damaged would cause the wrath of the Creator.
whites also become extinct, perhaps sooner than other tribes.
contaminate your bed and a night perish drowned in their own waste.
But you walk towards its destruction in glory, inspired by the power of God that brought them to this land and, for some special purpose gave dominion over it and on the red. That destiny is a mystery to us, because we do not understand why they exterminated the buffalo, wild horses are tame, clip the secret corners of the forest with the encouragement of so many men and stuffs the landscape of lush hills with speaker cables. Where is the thicket?. Destroyed. Where is the eagle?. Disappeared.
life ends and begins survival. "
Red Indian Chief Letter from Seattle in response to the U.S. president's intent in 1854 to buy their land and grant a new reservation. Currently held in the UN.
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