Tipi pole politics

Tipi pole politics

Since coming to Montana Indian country with my family in ’73, there’s one lesson I learned slowly: We humans are all connected. That means that if we are to stand strong, like poles of a tipi planted firmly staked into the earth, we must trust each other.  Canvas, ropes, stakes and poles operate with nothing hidden from the sky or earth, with all details of the structure united for protection of something precious. Inside that small round perimeter, children are born and learn about their own links to earth, sky and other living things. A tipi provides safety from the threats of weather and predators. But it remains transparent to all that it exists for the good of humanity.

We planted a tipi at Greenwood Farm the spring of 08 when we first moved here. We erected the poles and laid them all into position, then lashed the chief pole into position and wrapped the canvas around the cone of poles. We attached cords to pebbles lashed into the canvas edge. These we connected firmly to stakes driven so powerfully into the spring-droughty hard clay that some of them splintered a bit. Our grandchildren enjoyed sleeping in our tipi that summer. In the fall we neglected to take it down. Guests used it again the next summer. And then it went through a second winter.

A tipi is an amazing round structure, able to withstand the force of wind better than any similarly strong square (or cube) structure. But I ignored sound advice from our adopted Indian relatives about how long term tipi care. Two years of freezing and thawing deviously loosened the stake-hold some poles had with the earth. The first big windstorm of the third spring jerked loose some stakes. The canvas waved in the wind and shook the structure, lifting some of the poles.

Soon the loosened skirts of canvas, waving gleefully in the gale, tore the pebble connections. At that point, the system’s foundation was broken, in spite of the lashing ropes at the top holding the poles tightly together. The whole cone suddenly tipped in a gust, and flew loose from its moorings.  It crashed onto my car, breaking the windshield and smashing the hood. There I found it, poles still connected by the unyielding lashing, much of the canvas still in place, but flopping uselessly in the diminishing storm.

Here in Big Horn County we too often see our social support systems held together at the top, but tipped over, trashed and useless for the purpose intended. Real connections to the ground of human need are damaged. This is not just Big Horn county, it's all over the world.  Dysfunction, secrecy, and even in some cases threats of violence displace the original intent and design of political systems.  It's what makes politics a dirty word for many of us. Denials of uncomfortable truth are dictated by those firmly holding the tipped poles together. Their reason for being—the good of humankind—is often lost in excessive profits and a race to control tax dollars. Most of us know pain at the family level in America because of one or another of our dysfunctional and deceptive top-down politics.

Dangerous cynicism takes hold. We begin assuming humans are incapable of honest dedication to the common good espoused in our creeds, and will only do right with motivation by fear. For that reason, we have developed a huge legal system of justice based on fear of punishment that is dedicated to complicated conflict of interest detection.  We assume that other people cannot make decisions based on altruism and a true desire to help support each other. Assuming the worst, we lose connection to the best.

I believe humans can do what tipi poles are designed to do.  We can stand strong and connected, embracing those things that hold us together as people.  We can protect those we love and still touch earth and sky.  When will we loosen our grip on divisive rhetoric, and re-stake ourselves to the ground of common good, cloaked in a fabric of transparency? Let’s invest again in our workplaces, schools, churches, and volunteer organizations in working together and assuming the best intentions of each other.  Neighbors held together at the ground-level will survive the strongest winds.

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David Graber
Hardin, MT 59034
graberdb@gmail.com