On ignoring (erasing) Native American history

This month marks the 135th anniversary of an iconic event in American history: the massacre at Wounded Knee Creek on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. Sometimes called the end of the “Indian era,’ it was the final major armed confrontation between the U.S. government and the Plains Indians, the end of any significant Native American resistance to federal authority and forced assimilation.

Since the Wounded Knee massacre is not widely taught in American History courses, some may have first heard about it recently, when Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth declared that the 20 U.S. Cavalry members who “fought” in the “battle” at Wounded Knee, and were awarded the Medal of Honor, should not have those Medals of Honor revoked.

On a bitterly cold December day in 1890, those 20 soldiers, along with hundreds more, slaughtered an estimated 200 sick and hungry Lakota people. In Hegseth’s post he proclaimed the “brave soldiers” at Wounded Knee “deserve their medals” and “the matter is no longer up for debate.” But he didn't explain why. Nothing.

In 1990, on the 100th anniversary of this massacre, the U.S. Congress passed a resolution (SCR 153) which expressed “the deep regret of the Congress on behalf of the United States to the descendants of the victims, survivors and their respective tribal communities” at Wounded Knee, over the “tragic death and injury of approximately 350 to 375 Indian men, women and children of Chief Big Foot's band.” And this year there was a bill introduced to rescind the 20 medals, which is likely what prompted Hegseth's proclamation.

All of this matters to me because I’ve visited the Pine Ridge Reservation numerous times, and have both taken and taught field studies courses there — led by Lakota elders and a Lakota medicine man. My first trip there was for a course in grad school, which included interviews conversations with several descendants of massacre victims. They had a very different view of history than Pete Hegseth. As do nearly all historians — including Dee Brown (Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee) and Vine Deloria (Custer Died for Your Sins).

Here is how most historians have summarized what happened that day: The 7th U.S. Cavalry had just rounded up Chief Big Foot and 300 or so Lakota men, women and children, who were tired and hungry and had surrendered near Wounded Knee Creek, where they camped in their tipis while waiting to be relocated. Many of them were sick, including their leader, Chief Big Foot, who had pneumonia. About 500 U.S. Cavalry surrounded and monitored the Lakota encampment.

On the morning of Dec. 29, a number of officers began going from tipi to tipi seizing axes, rifles and other weapons. And while it is still unclear how or why, at some point one of the rifles discharged, which somehow prompted some soldiers to open fire, and soon, not only with their rifles, but with three automatic Hotchkiss Guns, which were trained on the encampment. When the smoke cleared, an hour later, there were nearly 200 Lakota dead; over half were women and children. Twenty-five U.S. soldiers were also killed, mostly, it is thought, by friendly fire. Maj. Gen. Nelson Miles, who oversaw the 7th Cavalry at the time, but was not there that morning, quickly relieved the 7th Cavalry's commander and condemned the massacre, calling it “the most abominable military blunder and a horrible massacre of women and children.” Does Pete Hegseth not believe General Miles?

In the past, when I’ve taken students to Wounded Knee, I’ve had a Lakota elder and descendant of a Wounded Knee survivor, walk the killing field with us — giving their version of the history. That is that the massacre may not have been accidental, but planned — and the Lakota were simply too hungry and tired and cold to defend themselves. The cavalry likely had brought the Hotchkiss guns for a reason. And while the supposed plan was to relocate the remaining Lakota to a reservation, the prior policy of the U.S. Government — ever since gold was discovered in South Dakota — had been extermination (which was nearly achieved). So perhaps it wasn’t so complicated.

The point is that writing history is always challenging and complex. And because it is an interpretive process, it can also be subjective. It requires sustained reading, research and analysis, involving both secondary and primary sources. And it requires much reflection, patience, and an open mind — all qualities that seem to be in short supply in Washington these days. Which is why I’m guessing that there are few (if any) serious historians who would agree with the “story” Secretary of Defense Hegseth is telling.

Though if he has any evidence for his “Truth Social” version of history, many would like to hear it.

• Tom Montgomery Fate is a professor emeritus at College of DuPage. His most recent book is The Long Way Home, a travel memoir.