19851A Dissertation
Presented to The Faculty of the Florence Heller Graduate School for Advanced Studies in Social Welfare
Brandeis University
In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements of the Degree
Doctor of Philosophy
by Pam Colorado
December, 1985
Table of Contents
Section One: Native American Alcoholism,
An Introduction…………………………………………….1
Section Two: Scientific Thought And
Dine’ Alcoholism…………………………………………11
Section Three: Dine’ Alcohol Policy,
An Historical Analysis……………………………….66
Section Four: No One Makes You Drink……….150
The Politics of Alcohol Recovery…………………….162
AIM, The War Against Alcoholism…………………..173
Methodology…………………………………………………………193
Reference Notes……………………………………………………208
Bibliography…………………………………………………………..215
Section One:
Native American Alcoholism, An Introduction
Section one introduces the current relationship between Native Americans and alcohol/substance. This section explores both the social dimensions and the impacts of substance use/abuse among Native people. Several points are made:
1. Alcohol and substance abuse are the leading cause of death of Native people.
2. The prevalence, incidence is so great that it cannot be explained by theories based on individual deviance or pathology.
3. Despite efforts to combat alcoholism, the problem is increasing geometrically.
4. Substance abuse threatens the survival of Native Americans.
Section one concludes with a statement from an elderly Northern Cheyenne man. This man, a child at the time of the Battle of the Little Big Horn, spells out an interpretation of the changes alcohol has wrought among the People. He suggests that an answer to the problem may lie in re-discovery of the “Good Way”, that is, a way which is based on traditional tribal values and practices. The question is raised, why is the “Good Way” the answer and how can it be found?
Paint 1
A cold summer night on the northern plains of Montana
Winds come, fiercely whipping the squat tarpaper house where six children and three adults sleep
Four rooms crumbling plasterboard, rotting floor boards
backed up toilet and sink. Windows too few for air and too small
for light frame reality for this Native American family.
Earlier evening, after work, the Family gathered at the Tongue River, built fire, heated rocks and took Sweat.
The Way of the Sacred Sweat
Water – the Gift of Life, is poured on the Grandfathers, lava rocks, now radiant with heat and mingle with prayers into the steam – the Breath of Creator
Outside Sweat Lodge, Thunders rumble ominously and cedar is burned
the storm retreats held back through ancient understanding.
Inside Sweat, the Family gives thanks for – a day of life, a husband being sober again, a child recovering from illness and a
prayer for Mitakeoysin (all the Relations).
Evening Meal:
Eleven relatives sit down for boiled venison and Wonder Bread.
Thanks is given, again and again, especially for the food.
Oldest son, age fifteen, is proud, night before last,
freezer empty,
he got the deer.
Plentiful coffee and Kool Aide
reservation water, too brackish to drink alone,
its depredation visible oily slag on the top of drinks.
teasing and laughter conclude the Feast.
Now its two A.M.
heavy winds and driving rain pound against the house.
Lightening flashes; thunders roar and I awaken with a start.
Heart pounding, gnawing fear returns.
I cannot sleep for thinking…my sister, face lined with
pain and bitterness
a sespair which speaks of some final surrender.
Struggling for answers, tears slip down my face
as I beg Creator’s pity on this Family.
There was such hope
Just four years ago, the Family left Boston,
two advanced degrees, won at such a cost, and worth it too
This time the tribe stands threshold of new life.
Coal, black gold!
Harvard degrees wielded to extract a successful contract
with the
energy conglomerate, the first negotiated by a tribe on its own.
Now there is a way to feed and shelter the People.
yet my sister and family perish.
Today! Assassin! In your sights, my brother-in-law falls
to his knees.
Mind clouded in Whiteman’s poison, he steals from his wife
and children.
for the next bottle…
The baby stirs, lying next to me on the cot.
Water drips in and within seconds, soaks through the
blankets.
the bed is moved repeatedly to avoid the leaks.
A new home
BIA has been promising one for ten years
but it is a four A.M. promise
far away.
Exhausted and hungry, the baby and I fall into sleep.