“We must use our clearest thinking and our purest thoughts to eradicate injustice”
A quote from the Peacemaker, whose activism and message to Haudenosaunee people to stop warring, led to the formation of the Iroquois Confederacy.
John Mohawk was a truth-teller. Yes he was a scholar, an activist, an author, and a farmer, but above all else he was a truth-teller. His ideas, stories and writings embody the Iroquois tenet of clear thinking. Whether attending a community event at Cattaraugus Reservation or being interviewed by the BBC, his unique blend of wisdom, intelligence and humor always shined through and captured people’s attention and imagination. John died recently in his home in Buffalo. The distinctive character and power of his voice will be profoundly missed.
I had the privilege to work with John in a Bioneers collaboration with the Iroquois White Corn Project. In the late 1990’s we converted a simple cabin on the Cattaraugus Reservation in western New York into the Corn Cabin to hull, roast, mill and package flour and hominy for sale to restaurants. The cabin had been the longtime home of John’s parents before they passed away. Iroquois White Corn is the traditional staple of the Iroquois people who have grown it for centuries, but which has now fallen out of favor. John worked to encourage the farming and consumption of the highly nutritious and flavorful corn among his people to improve the health of his community and to stimulate the native farming economy.
One of the best customers for the corn was the White Dog Café in Philadelphia. To educate people about the corn, we produced a dinner at the White Dog, which featured a menu of Iroquois White Corn in stuffed squash, succotash and corn bread. John gave a talk on the history and culture of the corn while people enjoyed their heritage meal. Afterwards we all went to White Dog owner Judy Wicks’ lovely, antique-filled home above the restaurant. There, John explained his theory of magic and miracles. Magic, he said, comes from understanding and working with the energy and power of the natural world—the phenomena of the relationships and offerings of nature. Miracles, on the other hand, were the kind of things that would never occur in nature, and are, at times, conjured up with great power but also an imbalance of cleverness and ignorance (genetic engineering would be one example).
John later gave a talk at Bioneers that was reprinted in the book Nature’s Operating Instructions in which he said, “A plant needs water, sun, energy, the moon, the earth, the animals and other plants around it, brothers and sisters and a million other things. Until all those things are working together, we don’t have the plant, we don’t have the compounds, and we don’t have the magic we need.
“Natural world people are people of magic. But the essence of Western culture for the last two thousand years has not been about magic; it has been about miracles. The difference between miracles and magic is that when one calls for a miracle, one is calling for a reversal of the laws of nature. If someone has died only a miracle will bring that person back to life. But the natural world people call upon nature to produce magic. They want a certain plant to cure someone who is sick, yet they’re clever enough to know it’s not the plant or the compounds that are going to do the job. It’s the whole thing. It’s the human who calls on the magic, who believes in it, who lets it work on him or her. That’s what makes it so complex, because if all you believe in is miracles, you don’t develop any language to describe these relationships.”
His description of the fundamental differences in worldview between indigenous earth based cultures and that of the industrialized western world impressed me and helped me to become a keener observer of natural patterns and to question more the impacts of the latest miraculous technologies, which modern cultures seem to adopt without a second thought.
On another occasion while driving with John on a western New York snow-covered winter day, I was all wound up grousing about the then-pending federal Organic Standards. The first version of the standards, which included as acceptable the infamous three-sewer sludge, genetic engineering and radiation, was hooted down by a record response of 250,000 protest e-mails forcing the USDA to eliminate those three provisions. I was outraged because even after all that, the revised standard maintained language to the effect that the Secretary of Agriculture could include genetic engineering as an acceptable organic practice when the Secretary deemed that public opinion had “evolved” on the topic. I was livid, not only because the USDA had allowed the Biotech industry to keep the door open, but also by the condescending use of the word evolved, as if the reason for prohibiting genetic engineering was based on some unsophisticated thinking that needs more time to develop. John looked at me, and with his tongue placed firmly in his cheek he said, “The problem with you people is you haven’t been Indians long enough.” I laughed, but the seriousness of the comment later sunk in. Colonialization of the food supply, the marginalization and oppression of more and more people for the benefit of the few, and an enduring struggle are all things Native Americans know about.
Chief Seattle of the Suquamish nation once said, “There is no death, only a change of worlds.” Brother John is gone from this world, which benefited so much from his presence, and now he dwells somewhere in the sacred wilds of the spirit world. I can’t help but feel, despite the pain of his loss, that both worlds are brighter because of John Mohawk.
