What More Honor Could They Pay Us?

By Darren Thomas | Monday, March 12, 2001

Carol Spindel should have read her own book better before announcing her final conclusion that all Indian mascots should be banned. Nowhere in the text is there compelling evidence to warrant their removal as school symbols.

The book focuses on the University of Illinois, where Spindel is a professor of English and Chief Illiniwek has been the center of controversy. The university calls Chief Illiniwek its 'symbol,' which embodies such qualities as bravery and determination. It is, moreover, an honor to the native tribes of the area, says U of I. Spindel writes about passionate protests during football games, with each faction carrying signs and wearing supporting apparel. Some Fighting Illini fans shout 'Get a life!' at the anti-Chief protesters. 'Imagine the Pope dancing at halftime,' the protestors retort. (The only time Chief Illiniwek appears in person is during the halftime show at Illinois football games. He enters the field and dances to a song played by the band.)

The University of Illinois is only one target of such protestors. The Atlanta Braves, Washington Redskins, Cleveland Indians, and many others are targeted by activist groups who claim the teams' images and names are racist and demeaning to Native Americans. Some newspapers, including the Star Tribune, the Seattle Times, and the Salt Lake Tribune, now refuse to print the names of these teams. Fans of the Indian squads argue that the symbol controversy represents a case of political correctness gone too far. The symbols aren't racist and the sports fans aren't intolerant, they say. What's more, the protestors threaten both tradition and free speech.

Recently, a group of faculty pledged to discourage potential athletic recruits from attending Illinois unless the university eliminates Chief Illiniwek. 'They can't stand it that the school's coaches make five or ten times more than they do,' fumed Skip Bayless, a sports columnist at the Chicago Tribune. 'They crave the publicity that comes from driving an unstoppable politically correct bandwagon spilling over with knee-jerk liberals. So now they're trying to make a name off their basketball team's climb to national prominence.'

'It's important to show respect and honor for those that came here before us,' adds University Trustee William Engelbrecht. 'Chief Illiniwek is a respectful remembrance of those people.'

One of the earliest descriptions of the Fighting Illini is found in a 1921 fundraising pamphlet for the university's stadium. The pamphlet described the Illini like this: 'The Illini Indian...was a hunter, and a fighter, and more generous in war and in peace than his neighbors... He was an individualist, and his children, whom he loved, were given freedom to grow as they willed, only they had to be brave and self-denying.' It's a flattering, reverential image. Yet Spindel claims that the representation is not accurate; the perception of the Illini was changed to conform to the ideals of the time, to pander to the alumni.

Spindel argues that romanticizing the Indians in this way is proof of a racist, patronizing outlook—and constitutes an abuse of history. Romanticizing, however, is a central component of American culture. Young Americans hear exaggerated stories about the Founding Fathers, war heroes, and many others. George Washington probably could tell a lie. Most likely, he actually told one. But the cherry tree story isn't an insult to Washington or his legacy. It's an honor, a claim to important figures and symbols of our past, and a recognition of their role in shaping our social values. Historians might fault student pamphleteers for their research methodology, or their narrative's veracity. But they're certainly not racists. And their admiration of the Illini isn't an insult.

Chief Illiniwek first appeared during a game with the University of Pennsylvania. Penn said they would bring their mascot of William Penn if Illinois displayed a mascot as well. The logical choice was an Illinois Indian. The crowd welcomed the Chief with cheers. He continued as a tradition from then on. The university bought an official costume for the Chief in 1930 from a Sioux tribe in North Dakota—the costume couldn't get more authentic than that. Chief Illiniwek was not controversial until the 1970s, at about the same time Dartmouth abandoned its Indian symbol for the Big Green. Unlike Dartmouth, the University of Illinois resisted the change.

In 1982 the Illinois band changed directors. The new director, Gary Smith, inherited a band that had deteriorated in quality; he was also dubious of using the Chief in the half-time shows. Smith traveled to Sioux country, the Pine Ridge Reservation, to replace the costume, which was falling apart, and to get Indian opinion on the appropriateness of the Chief. He met with a Sioux healer named Fools Crow and other leaders of the reservation. They told Smith that they approved of Chief Illiniwek; they only had problems with caricatured Indian Mascots. Spindel brushes over the tribal leaders' support for the Chief. She does note, however, that Fools Crow was an active member of the militant American Indian Movement—and so was no pushover. She treats his acceptance of Chief Illiniwek as a temporary lapse in judgement by the healer. As if Spindel defines legitimate Indian opinion.

The whole book, in fact, suffers from such self-importance. Spindel ignores facts that counsel in favor of Indian mascots, especially American Indians' stated support for such symbols. For instance, protesters opposed to the Washington Redskins conducted a telephone poll asking if people found the name 'redskin' offensive. Only 37 percent of Native Americans responded yes. 'Redskins,' of course, is the only derogatory name among the sports teams. If objection to the Redskins logo is so low among American Indians, disapproval of a noble symbol like Chief Illiniwek must be almost nil.

Among American ethnic groups, Indian children exhibit the highest incidence of suicide, notes Spindel. She implies that the suicides are a result of sports mascots. Spindel goes on to place the blame for alcoholism and homicide on such symbols as Chief Illiniwek.

At the same time, Irishmen don't pick fights because of Notre Dame. Quakers don't hit the bottle because of UPenn. There are many teams across the country named the Spartans but Greeks have never voiced concern about these. Just this month, the Schaumburg High School Saxons won the Illinois Class AA State Basketball Title in an upset victory.

Blaming high suicide rates and alcoholism in Native American communities on Indian mascots is not only irrational, but a distraction from real problems, such as economic depression and unemployment in those communities, or poor relations with the federal government. 'The federal government has been trying to do away with all Indian treaties,' Franklin McLain, a member of the Kaw Business Committee in Oklahoma, once told The Dartmouth Review. 'But we're here to stay. And we plan to be here for a long time. To me, the Indian symbol is a reminder of our existence and endurance.'

Truman Jefferson, Secretary of the Crow Tribal Council, added that such a symbol 'helps to educate people about Indian culture. Our culture is neglected everywhere else.' Native Americans, no doubt, face serious obstacles. But an Indian symbol isn't one of them. Protesting such symbols deflects energies from actual problems. Plus, prominent emblems depicting Indian culture might actually help.

The Indians want to reclaim the image of themselves that 'we' borrowed from them, Spindel insists. What? An image can't be borrowed or taken back; it isn't an object. Our culture has not just borrowed images from Indians but words, which have been incorporated into American English. Should the words be given back as well? What about sports 'we' learned from Indians, such as lacrosse and canoeing? What about farming techniques, holidays and other traditions? Perhaps Americans 'borrowed' these things from Indians. Then again, maybe Indians are Americans, too.

In truth, there isn't a 'we' and a 'them.' Or at least there shouldn't be. American culture is shaped by Indian traditions, and by those of many different cultures. Indian symbolism in American culture is a recognition of the crucial influence of Native Americans on our history, and their continuing participation in American society. Most American Indians realize that.

During the book, Spindel musters enough wisdom to question the merit of her cause. She wonders if anyone really cares about the symbol of a college's football team. Clearly, the answer to that question is yes. The people who care are the innumerable alumni who root week in and week out for their team, the alumni who regard college emblems as connecting them with the whole history of their academic community.

Clearly, American Indians care as well, but not in the way Spindel thinks. Spindel stands among those faculty who are now battling to remove Chief Illiniwek from the University of Illinois. Yet Spindel and her colleagues are fighting not only the university, but the local Indian tribe. In 1995, the Peoria Tribe, direct descendants of the Illini Tribe, endorsed the university's keeping Chief Illiniwek.

'To say that we are anything but proud to have these portrayals would be completely wrong,' said Don Giles, Chief of the Peoria Tribe. 'We're proud that the University of Illinois is the major institution in the state, a seat of learning, and they are drawing on that background of our having been there. And what more honor could they pay us?'

What More Honor Could They Pay Us?

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