When civilized men meet with less advanced peoples,
The custom is practically always the same.
The natives extend a warm greeting, and chatter
In strange tongues -- half naked, these men, without shame.

Now, the civilized men have a custom of greeting
That isn't so primitive. They first proclaim
That the natives are under their strong white protection,
And will not be harmed if they play the whites' game.

For the civilized men come to help them and teach them
To live in a civilized way. They extend
A strong hand to the weak, backwards primitive peoples,
To be their white Father and Bwana and friend.

But the natives are stubborn sometimes, like small children
Who don't know what's good for them. They must be led
From their wigwams and grass huts to nice wooden houses,
From crude bows and arrows to muskets and lead.

Those stubborn ones often are swiftly persuaded
When smallpox germs swarm on their homes and their skin.
Without white man medicine, they're all but helpless
When deadly contagions emigrate in.

For those that are left, time for treaties! The homelands
They've lived on and worshiped in ignorance must
Be sold off for beads, baubles, and buckskins, and bullets,
So they can relocate. In white men they trust.

Yes, the treaties. When civilized men grow in number,
They must find space somewhere -- and here's all this space
That the savages wasted, not logging or mining
Or farming. The men who discovered this place

Will quite naturally claim it. And as for the natives,
There's even land left for their use. With their tribes
So much smaller now, they can have small reservations.
You may have to force them with threats or with bribes.

And sometimes, of course, there's no land near left over.
The natives will just have to move. It might take
Many days' worth of walking, and guns, and officials,
And lives -- but it's all for society's sake.

Then the land will be used as all land was intended,
To build cities, farm, extract produce, and gold,
And timber, and copper, and furs, and petroleum --
All will be gathered, refined, and then sold.

And churches are built. Now the brave missionaries
Must go where the few native peoples now live.
Though they may be ungrateful and even resentful,
The brutes must hear the wisdom the men have to give.

For the natives' religion's as backwards as they are:
They worship the four winds, the earth, and the trees!
They don't realize those things were all made for our usage
By God's hand: the lumber, the dirt, and the breeze.

Now sometimes the primitives speak of Great Spirit
Or of one force that moves in all things, and they say
That the white people's God is the same. But the white men
Insist that they worship the civilized way.

And sometimes they speak of their Mother the earth, and
The priests must take pains to replace her with one
Who doesn't resemble her closely: their Mother
Mary. And then they move on to her Son.

It's all for their own good. If their superstitions
Continue to plague them, they'll worry and fret
Through their wretched and ignorant lives -- and then, dying,
Eternal damnation -- right, that's what they'll get.

When the natives have bowed to the priests' gentle pressure
And civilized taste, and have cut their long hair,
They sometimes, in church, will see pictures of long-haired
Disciples, and Jesus. They stop and they stare.

They often refuse to join civilization.
You might just cut off their necessities --
Kill all the buffalo, poison the water --
Then they'll come back to you, eager to please.

The children of primitive people are wild
And learn of the primitive life from their kin.
So to break up the tribes, one teaches the children
And breaks the crude savage's spirit within.

All of the children must part with their parents,
And go to a big boarding school to be taught
To be quiet, and never to speak the old language,
Obey all their teachers, and do as they ought.

And as for the natives' religious customs,
Outlaw them. Outlaw the drugs that they take.
Outlaw the language. Outlaw the prayers.
Outlaw the temples and altars they make.

At last, when they've all been brought into the culture
Of civilized men, they will help pull the cart
Of civilization, contributing hard work,
Intelligence, courage, and goodness of heart.

And they too will benefit. Soon they won't perish
From the horrible germs we have brought to their door;
At last modern medicine's wonders will reach them,
And infant survival rates shortly will soar.

Soon they won't starve or go hungry in bad times;
We'll ship them some food. Soon they won't have to stalk
Wild animals; soon they can work in an office.
We'll help them build buses; they won't have to walk.

Soon they won't constantly kill one another,
Thanks to our good schools, strong laws, and police.
Soon they'll get trained by the Navy and Army
To fight for good causes, like justice and peace.

Soon they won't have to appease all the spirits;
They'll know there's one God who loves all who love Him.
Soon they'll be glad to be rid of their old life,
As memories of loincloths and feathers grow dim.

Ah, yes, what a blessing is civilization!
Let us bring it to all who know not of its worth.
Let us show them the true way, the right way of living,
To build! to create! -- and to people the earth.

-- Cat