Land acknowledgement statements lack factual support: What was the historical nature of the “atrocity” mentioned in the statements? By what “violent and coercive means” was the land stolen? Morally charged language requires painstaking factual research and justification.
We are all familiar with the ubiquitous land acknowledgement statement that has become a common feature of political and institutional life in contemporary America. For the most part, these statements do not bear even cursory analysis. For example, what does the statement of the Eiteljorg Museum in Indianapolis mean when it asserts that “the lands of the Eiteljorg Museum and Indianapolis… are and always will be Native lands first[]”? Exactly what consequences are to flow from the acknowledgement by the city of Bloomington, Indiana that the Miami, Potawatomi, and Shawnee peoples “are the past, present, and future caretakers of th[e] land” on which Bloomington sits? Does “caretaking” involve some sort of ownership or priority of usage rights? If not, exactly what does it mean? Why is it important?
Several years ago I resigned from my church in part because of a typical land acknowledgement statement that began appearing in the Sunday bulletin. The first version called on the gathered congregation to “pause for a moment of recognition, lamentation and repentance, acknowledging that we are gathering on stolen lands” that by right are “homelands” of the Miami, Delaware, Potawatomi, and Shawnee peoples.
I complained to the minister, pointing out that her statement didn’t indicate who stole the land but nevertheless called upon the congregation to repent. Moreover, a little historical research revealed that the congregation actually purchased the land for $220,000 in 1955 ($2,620,000 in 2025 dollars). Thus, as a matter of historical record the congregation did not steal its land from anybody. Moreover, a pamphlet published at the time by the church proudly recounted how difficult it was to make that purchase. Many individuals sacrificed, including a small boy who devoted his comic book money for several years to the fund drive. Could the land acknowledgement statement publicly recognize the value of that sacrifice?
The statement was slightly altered. Subsequent bulletins stated that “European settler-colonist[s] [sic] forced these ancient stewards of the land from their homes through violent and coercive means.” It acknowledged that “we did not commit these atrocities and are not responsible for the hurt and harm done by those who came before us.” However, it stated that “we are responsible for the world in which we now live, where the legacy of colonization continues to be expressed and felt deeply as Indigenous lives and sovereignty continue to be devalued and disregarded.” It still invited the congregation “to pause for a moment of recognition, lamentation, and repentance.”
There is a great deal of confusion and ambiguity in these statements, papered over by highly judgmental moral language. The second statement clarifies that the current congregation is not responsible for the theft, and avoids using the word “stolen,” but still refers to the theft as an “atrocit[y]” committed through “violent and coercive means,” states that it was done by “those who came before us,” and still asks the congregation to acknowledge that it is gathering on someone else’s “homelands.” It therefore raises the question of what the congregation’s moral relationship is to “those who came before us,” in particular by asking us to acknowledge our presence on someone else’s land. Does that acknowledgement involve moral guilt, either through simple association or more concretely as indirect beneficiaries? What does it mean to be responsible for the “legacy of colonization,” and the fact that we are gathering on “stolen lands?” Must we repudiate our forebears and redress their wrongs?
The statements are not only confused but also use problematic language. For example, the first statement that the lands were “stolen” assumes a concept of property that is embedded in western legal and cultural traditions. To characterize the interaction of western culture and native American culture in these terms is arguably itself a form of cultural imperialism. This concept of property implies that the land on which the church is built was owned before it was stolen (since nothing can be stolen that is not owned). But how could the land be owned simultaneously by four different peoples? Do these statements assert that the land was “stolen” from all these different peoples? If so, exactly how was this the case?
Moreover, the statements imply that before being stolen, or otherwise taken by violence and coercion, the land existed in a pristine state of clear title. Thus, the native American peoples who lived on the church’s land, or otherwise used it, are referred to as “ancient stewards.” But do we know, as a matter of historical fact, that the land was never stolen or taken by one native people from another? If we do not know this, how are we to weigh and determine the moral merits of the matter? How do we know that the native Americans who used these lands were not themselves “settler-colonists?” If we lack information to answer this question, how would this lack of critical information affect the moral character of the theft referred to in the statements?
The statement lacks factual support in other ways as well. What was the historical nature of the “atrocity” mentioned in the statements? By what “violent and coercive means” was the land stolen? Morally charged language requires painstaking factual research and justification.
Most importantly, the second statement indicates that the congregation is “responsible for the legacy of colonization,” which results in “devaluation and disregard of indigenous lives.” This shifts the focus from responsibility for stealing native land to responsibility for the entire history of the relationship between native Americans and European immigrants. The legacy of colonization is a very large and complex subject. Is it really so one-sided? While there have been many significant and well documented injustices in the treatment of native American peoples, it is also self-evident that native American peoples have benefitted tremendously in many ways through their access to and partial assimilation within the larger culture in which they live. For example, at the time of first European contact, the average North American life span was less than 20 years. In fact, in a population estimated at approximately 2,360,000, health was actually declining at the time of first contact due to a transition from hunter-gatherer food production to settled agriculture, decreased dietary diversity (including over-dependence on maize), poor nutrition resulting in widespread disease, and patterns of repetitive work causing degenerative joint disease in increasingly socially stratified societies. Thus, endemic disease, poor nutrition, and human aggregation were likely the principal causes of declining health and low life expectancy of native North Americans at the time of first contact. These conclusions rest on the largest-scale collaborative research yet undertaken involving the examination of over 4,000 skeletal remains from 23 pre-Columbian locations in the Americas.* However, according to a 2021 CDC study (Mortality Profile of the Non-Hispanic American Indian or Alaska Native Population, 2019 (cdc.gov), the average life expectancy at birth of native Americans today is 71.8 years. This vast improvement is obviously due to many factors, including access to modern medical expertise, medicines, and medical technology. In addition, native Americans and European Americans have both been enriched through cultural exchange, in areas such as art, religion, technology, etc. Despite historically documented instances of injustice, there is also much to celebrate in the “legacy of colonization.”
Finally, the bulletin statements gloss over several deeper moral questions that transcend the specific issues they raise. First, to what extent must those alive today bear moral responsibility for actions taken by their ancestors (either literal or cultural)? Is there a property of transferable moral responsibility, derived from an assumed imputation of guilt by association, or are individuals morally accountable only for their own actions?
Second, to what extent does priority of occupancy and use imply priority of claim? Applying this question to the issue raised by the bulletin statements, we must keep in mind that, according to the current state of human knowledge, there is no such thing as “indigenous” or “native” Americans (except trivially in the sense that all people born here are “indigenous” or “native”); the earliest peoples arrived in North America from elsewhere, as did European migrants. Thus, no people have what might be called an organic claim to the land. The terms “native American” and “indigenous peoples” are themselves purely western, reflecting a recognition by Europeans that people were already here in North America when they arrived.
Third, to what extent does priority of occupancy and use imply priority of claim? Applying this question to the issue raised by the bulletin statements, we must keep in mind that, according to the current state of human knowledge, there is no such thing as “indigenous” or “native” Americans (except trivially in the sense that all people born here are “indigenous” or “native”); the earliest peoples arrived in North America from elsewhere, as did European migrants. Thus, no people have what might be called an organic claim to the land. The terms “native American” and “indigenous peoples” are themselves purely western, reflecting a recognition by Europeans that people were already here in North America when they arrived.
And this is, in the end, the problem with land acknowledgement statements. They are elaborate public rituals of zealous faith, and as such take no interest in the granular details of the factual record, addressing the moral questions they raise seemingly without any recognition at all, or even in seriously proposing any action. They are a form of virtuous self-abasement in which we are bullied into placing scarlet letters on our foreheads to acknowledge our “settler-colonist” sins. They are both self-serving and intolerant, serve no useful purpose, and therefore have no place in our public life.
*See Richard H. Steckel, The Best of Times, The Worst of Times: Health and Nutrition in Pre-Columbian America, National Bureau of Economic Research Working Paper 10299, 2004. See also C.S. Larsen, In the Wake of Columbus: Native Population Biology in the Postcontact Americas, Yearbook of Physical Anthropology 37, 109-154 (1994); Douglas H. Ubelaker, Patterns of Disease in Early North American Populations, in Michael R. Haines and Richard H. Steckel, A Population History of North America, Cambridge U. Press, 2000; Douglas H. Ubelaker, Population Size, Contact to Nadir, in William C. Sturtevant, Handbook of North American Indians, vol. 3, Environment, Origins and Population, Smithsonian Institution, 1978.
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The featured image, uploaded by Herb Roe, is “Artists conception of the summer solstice sunrise at the Ohio Hopewell culture earthworks Shriver Circle and Mound City near modern Chillicothe, Ohio. Digital illustration, all rights held by the artist, Herb Roe © 2019.” This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
