Until recently, I had not heard the term “mourning war.” Then, this past winter, I read a history of the Americas that included perspectives of the indigenous tribes who populated the area prior to the arrival of European settlers. I came across the term “mourning war,” once practiced among the tribes of the Iroquois Confederacy in what is now the eastern U.S. and Canada. A local online history expanded on the practice, which had started out as a series of small-scale raids before large-scale contact with European settlers:
“[M]ore than [furs from adjoining tribes,] these Iroquois warriors sought prisoners, prospective adoptees, who could take the place of Iroquois people who had died in wars and from epidemic diseases. The members of the Five [Iroquois] Nations believed that the power of a lineage, a clan, a village or a community suffered for each individual lost. Iroquois peoples, as well, recognized that grief unassuaged could bring destruction. …The adoption of captives was one socially-sanctioned way to alleviate this grief. As a result, Iroquois raids on their neighbors took on the quality of a ‘mourning war.’”
Historian Daniel Richter has argued that the practice of mourning warfare escalated and changed as interactions with Europeans increased. Substantial numbers of native peoples were dying in epidemics of diseases such as measles and smallpox to which, in contrast with Europeans, they had no natural immunity:
“A dangerous spiral resulted: disease led to more frequent mourning wars fought with firearms that made these raids more dangerous; the need for guns and ammunition to fight these wars led to an increased demand for the [animal] pelts needed to trade for them; Iroquois hunters and warriors traveled farther and farther to acquire the furs necessary for this trade, provoking new wars with native peoples farther afield. And through it all the spiral of death continued, sucking the Five Nations into a destructive cycle of warfare and violence. …
[T]he Iroquois absorbed an enormous number of captives. French missionaries estimated that two-thirds of the people living in Iroquoia were adoptees. Even with these adoptees, Iroquois population continued to decline. The Iroquois suffered badly in this warfare, which could be horrifically violent.”
(https://chenussio.geneseo.sunycreate.cloud/overview-of-seneca-history/mourning-wars/)
It’s not clear that the many wars now going on around the world have the same explicit aims as Iroquois “mourning wars,” though earlier in the war in Ukraine there were allegations of Russian troops kidnapping Ukrainian children to help bolster an aging Russian population.
What is evident is that nearly all our current global conflicts are inflicting much higher civilian casualties than military ones. What is evident are the massive internal and cross-border refugee displacements occurring in increasing numbers of regions. What is evident is how much the global economy is being roiled by disruptions of shipping in various war zones.
As bombs, missiles, and drones continue to damage or destroy increasing numbers of lives and infrastructure in the Middle East and elsewhere, I am in mourning. If I’ve had qualms about a United States role as international police force, I have even greater qualms about the land of my birth joining the ranks of international bullies. I am angry. I do not yet fully know how to direct my anger to help minimize further damage. My only certainty is that escalating cycles of violence are not a viable answer.
Throughout human history, we have struggled with our countervailing impulses toward dominance and toward empathy. It is taking us much too long to learn the lesson that dominance always comes to an end. Empathy, too often considered “weak” in the shorter term, is one of the few ways yet discovered to promote the sharing of whatever finite resources are necessary for all to thrive. Empathy can help us learn to harness more broadly available resources such as sunlight. Empathy can also activate the nearly inexhaustible resources of mutual care and support.
May the God of all faiths, by whatever name, help us to develop the wisdom to mourn more cleanly, and to extricate ourselves from the cycles of violence and “mourning wars” to which we still seem much too prone.
Jinny's Occasional Poems 