logo

47 pages 1 hour read

Kent Nerburn

Neither Wolf Nor Dog

Nonfiction | Autobiography / Memoir | Adult | Published in 1994

A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.

Themes

The Lasting Trauma of America’s Violence Against Indigenous Communities

The American government’s violent treatment of indigenous people and communities is an important theme in Dan’s speeches in Neither Wolf Nor Dog, and the legacy of that violence is evident throughout the book. In the introduction, Nerburn describes a roadside attraction featuring an indigenous sculpture of a buffalo as a symbol of this history of violence: “the spirit of the land, the spirit of a people, named, framed, and incarcerated inside a fence” (2). Imagery related to incarceration and imprisonment appears across the novel, as when Dan describes how the federal government “herded [indigenous people] onto reservations and rewarded Indians who acted just like white people” (59). He describes reservations and federal housing as the government’s attempts to “give [indigenous people] our own cage” (158). Dan’s sense of history also emphasizes metaphors of enclosure. His description of how white colonists “came and landed on the shores in the east while others came up from the south” (164) creates a sense of claustrophobia that reinforces his earlier use of cage imagery. Dan later argues that the federal government’s policy of “killing us and chasing us from our land just so they could get rich” (210) made indigenous communities feel like animals, rather than people. These passages assert that the federal government’s treatment of indigenous communities dehumanized indigenous people.

Although Nerburn includes explicit descriptions of how indigenous communities were harmed in the past, he also demonstrates the traumatic legacy of this harm in the present. The characters of Annie and her disabled husband, who live an isolated life alone on their impoverished reservation, offer one such example. As Annie’s granddaughter Danelle notes, the government’s assimilationist policies “stole [Annie’s] spirit” by forcibly converting her from indigenous religions (248). Danelle also notes that forcing indigenous communities onto reservations has harmed indigenous youth: “if they stay on the reservations, among their people, there is no work […] when they can’t provide for their families they leave, or drink, or get angry,” disrupting family life (251). Nerburn’s examination of life on the reservation highlights the traumatic legacy of historical violence and oppression in the present.

Dan remains unflinching in describing the government’s wrongs while also holding strong to his belief that “the Creator did not put our people here to be destroyed and forgotten” (24). Despite the book’s emphasis on the traumatic legacy of the violence enacted on indigenous communities by white America, Neither Wolf Nor Dog also offers a sense of hope rooted in the faith and resilience of indigenous communities.

The Role of Language in Oppression

Neither Wolf Nor Dog is a multilingual book, featuring orators who speak in both English and Lakota, an indigenous language of the Sioux nation. Lakota offers Dan and Grover the ability to speak freely in Nerburn’s presence, but use of language—specifically English—in oppressing others proves an important theme in the book. Dan asserts that white Americans used English “like a weapon” (162) to harm indigenous communities historically and in the present. For Dan, the most egregious example of this weaponization is the treaties that the federal government forced indigenous communities to sign to give up their ancestral lands. Dan describes the treaties as “pieces of paper written in a language we didn’t understand and read to us by people we didn’t trust” (160). He argues that the federal government abused the linguistic gap between indigenous and white American communities. To ensure dominance and control over indigenous communities, the federal government forced assimilation by forbidding indigenous children from speaking their indigenous languages. As Dan remembers, “they just marched us into the classroom and started talking in English” (160), forcing students to adapt or, more commonly, fall behind. The failure of indigenous students to thrive in classrooms taught in a foreign language reified white American’s existing prejudicial view of indigenous people as intellectually inferior. In a similar way, Dan suggests that the use of the term wilderness to describe indigenous lands transformed the West into “a wild and dangerous place” that needed to be conquered by the federal government (165). These historical examples demonstrate the dangerous potential of language to aid in oppression of marginalized communities.

Dan’s lectures also suggest that language has a powerful, ongoing role in the continued oppression of indigenous people. He tells Nerburn that English is “like a weapon you use against us now that you don’t use guns anymore” (162). He argues that historians use language to manipulate the public’s sense of history. When describing battles, for example, “whenever the white people [win] it [is] a victory. Whenever we [win] it [is] a massacre” (161). He argues that this distinction “makes our killing seem uglier than yours, so it makes our people seem worse than yours” (161). Similarly, white historians “use [uprising] to talk about anytime our people couldn’t stand what was happening to them anymore and tried to get our rights” (161). The negative connotation of the word implies that “everything was peaceful and orderly until [indigenous communities] ‘rose up’” (162). These examples demonstrate that emotionally-charged language can be used to prejudice audiences against indigenous communities.

The Power of the Western Landscape

The power of the landscape of the western United States—and especially of the unnamed reservations the group visits—provides an important thematic resonance throughout Neither Wolf Nor Dog. Dan’s speeches center the landscape as a source of emotional and spiritual power for indigenous communities. Similarly, Nerburn’s narration suggests that the landscape can also powerfully influence non-indigenous visitors. Dan describes the Great Plains as “the land that the Creator had given us” (45). He explains that the land is sacred because it is “where sacred things had happened and where the spirits talked to us” (49). He claims that, because indigenous people held the landscape sacred, “it gave us life for our bodies and the life for our spirits” (46). In these passages, Dan highlights the spiritual intimacy between indigenous communities and the landscape of the west. Dan’s lectures suggest that the power of the landscape comes from its history: he initially describes the Great Plans as the land where “our ancestors were buried” (45). Dan’s sense of the land’s history is inextricable from his understanding of the history of violence against indigenous people. When the group visits Badlands, South Dakota, he twice describes the landscape as “a hard land” (291, 292) and tells Nerburn that a hard land “invites hard words” (292). Dan feels transformed by his intimate relationship with the landscape, which holds immense power for him.

In turn, Nerburn also feels powerfully transformed by his journey through the western landscape, which he finds mesmerizing. Nerburn writes that “the billowing, waving prairie grasses were symphonic in their ebbs and swells; the marching cadences of the passing clouds transfixed the eye” (63). When Nerburn feels overwhelmed by the violence of the history Dan is describing, he finds comfort in the landscape, noting how “bands of color cut for miles through the desiccated formations [of the Badlands], echoing geological time that dwarfed all human considerations” (289). While these passages imbue the western landscape with the power to comfort non-indigenous visitors, other passages demonstrates the landscape’s ability to powerfully disturb visitors, as when Nerburn hears in the wind the “echoes of a thousand dead voices—of women, of children, of old men too slow to run when the Hotchkiss guns were turned against them” at Wounded Knee (134). When he spends the night at the grave site, Nerburn imagines that the landscape “[begins] to grow into new and threatening shapes” (290). Nerburn’s sense of unease and fear of the landscape emphasizes the sense of white Americans as colonizers of the land rather than protectors of it.

blurred text
blurred text
blurred text
blurred text