The Siege of Wounded Knee: A 71-Day Stand for Justice and Sovereignty
WOUNDED KNEE, South Dakota – The chill winds of late February still bite deep on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, sweeping across the desolate, snow-dusted plains of South Dakota. Fifty-one years ago, on February 27, 1973, this remote and impoverished corner of America became the epicenter of a dramatic, 71-day standoff that captivated a nation and illuminated the simmering tensions between Native American communities and the U.S. government. It was here, at the very site of the infamous 1890 massacre, that members of the American Indian Movement (AIM) and traditional Oglala Lakota elders seized control of the historic hamlet of Wounded Knee, igniting a siege that would etch itself into the annals of civil rights history.
More than just a protest, the occupation of Wounded Knee was a desperate cry for justice, a forceful assertion of sovereignty, and a symbolic reclamation of a painful past. It was a moment when a marginalized people, long silenced and dispossessed, finally stood their ground against overwhelming odds.
A Powder Keg of Discontent: The Precursors to Rebellion
To understand the siege, one must first grasp the volatile conditions on Pine Ridge in the early 1970s. The reservation, home to the Oglala Lakota Nation, was a landscape of extreme poverty, rampant alcoholism, and a life expectancy half the national average. Unemployment soared, and basic services were virtually non-existent. Adding to this misery was a deeply corrupt and widely resented tribal government led by Chairman Richard Wilson, whom many traditionalists and younger activists accused of being a puppet of the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) and a dictator who enriched himself while his people suffered.
Wilson’s administration was known for its armed vigilante squad, the Guardians of the Oglala Nation (GOONs), who allegedly terrorized and intimidated traditionalists and AIM supporters with impunity. Violence was endemic, and the federal government, ostensibly responsible for the welfare of Native Americans, seemed to turn a blind eye.
The American Indian Movement, founded in 1968 in Minneapolis, emerged from this cauldron of despair. AIM leaders like Dennis Banks, Russell Means, and Carter Camp advocated for "Red Power," demanding the restoration of treaty rights, self-determination, and an end to federal paternalism. They were known for their confrontational tactics, having already made headlines with the occupation of Alcatraz Island (1969-1971) and the "Trail of Broken Treaties" march on Washington D.C. in November 1972, which culminated in the occupation of the BIA headquarters.
The immediate spark for Wounded Knee was the murder of Wesley Bad Heart Bull, a young Lakota man, in February 1973 in Custer, South Dakota. His alleged killer, a white man, was charged with only second-degree manslaughter, sparking outrage. When a subsequent protest by AIM and local residents outside the Custer County Courthouse erupted in violence, with AIM leader Sarah Bad Heart Bull (Wesley’s mother) assaulted and arrested, the stage was set. Traditional Oglala elders, desperate for help, invited AIM to Pine Ridge.
The Occupation Begins: A Symbolic Stand
On the evening of February 27, 1973, a caravan of approximately 200 AIM members and Oglala Lakota traditionalists, including women, children, and elders, drove into the historic hamlet of Wounded Knee. The site held immense symbolic power: it was here, on December 29, 1890, that the U.S. Seventh Cavalry massacred an estimated 300 unarmed Lakota men, women, and children, marking the brutal end of the American Indian Wars. By occupying this sacred ground, the activists aimed to draw the world’s attention not only to the current injustices but also to the centuries of broken treaties and systemic oppression.
Upon arrival, they seized the trading post and the historic Sacred Heart Church, declaring the area the "Independent Oglala Nation." Their demands were clear and uncompromising: the immediate removal of Chairman Richard Wilson, a full federal investigation into the BIA and the treatment of Native Americans, and, most significantly, a review of all U.S. treaties with Native American nations by the U.S. Senate.
The federal government’s response was swift and overwhelming. Within hours, hundreds of FBI agents, U.S. Marshals, and BIA police, many heavily armed and equipped with armored personnel carriers (APCs), surrounded Wounded Knee. A full-scale siege had begun.
Life Under Siege: A 71-Day Ordeal
For 71 days, Wounded Knee became a war zone. The perimeter was heavily fortified by federal forces, creating a blockade that cut off all supplies to the occupiers. Inside, the activists, numbering around 200 at any given time, faced constant harassment. Sniper fire became a daily occurrence, as did federal assaults and psychological warfare tactics.
Conditions inside Wounded Knee were dire. Food and medical supplies quickly dwindled. Water was scarce, and sanitation was primitive. Despite the hardship, the spirit of resistance remained remarkably strong. AIM leaders, along with revered elders, held daily councils, broadcast their messages to the outside world via a makeshift radio station, and even established a rudimentary school for the children present.
The standoff drew international media attention, turning Wounded Knee into a global symbol of indigenous resistance. Journalists flocked to the area, though access was often restricted by federal forces. Initial media coverage tended to be sympathetic to the Native American cause, highlighting the grievances and the stark imbalance of power. However, as the siege dragged on and the federal narrative focused on "law and order," some of this sympathy waned.
Negotiations were sporadic and fraught with distrust. AIM leaders, including Russell Means and Dennis Banks, engaged in tense discussions with federal representatives, including Assistant Attorney General Kent Frizzell. Each side accused the other of bad faith. The federal government demanded unconditional surrender, while AIM insisted on their demands being met.
The siege was not without casualties. On April 17, Frank Clearwater, an Apache Native American from North Carolina who had joined the occupation, was killed by a federal bullet to the head. Ten days later, on April 27, Buddy Lamont, an Oglala Lakota, was also killed by federal gunfire. Their deaths underscored the lethal stakes of the standoff and further hardened the resolve of those inside.
The Ceasefire and the Aftermath
As May approached, both sides were exhausted. The federal government faced increasing public pressure to resolve the situation peacefully, while those inside Wounded Knee were suffering from severe deprivation and constant threat.
On May 8, 1973, after intense negotiations and a promise from the U.S. government to investigate their grievances, including the Wilson administration and treaty violations, the occupiers agreed to lay down their arms. The 71-day siege concluded with the surrender of the remaining activists, who were then arrested.
However, the peace was short-lived, and the promises largely unfulfilled. The federal investigation into Chairman Wilson’s alleged corruption yielded little. The promised review of treaty rights never fully materialized. Instead, the period immediately following Wounded Knee saw an escalation of violence on Pine Ridge, often referred to as the "Reign of Terror." Over the next three years, more than 60 Native Americans on the reservation, many of them AIM members or sympathizers, died under mysterious or violent circumstances, far exceeding the per capita murder rate in any major U.S. city.
The legal battles that followed were extensive. Russell Means and Dennis Banks faced a lengthy and high-profile trial on charges related to the siege, including assault, theft, and conspiracy. After eight months, the charges were dismissed by Federal Judge Fred J. Nichol due to gross governmental misconduct, including illegal wiretaps, suppression of evidence, and perjury by federal witnesses. While a victory for Means and Banks, hundreds of other AIM members and supporters faced charges, many of whom were convicted and served prison sentences.
A Legacy of Resistance and Resilience
The Siege of Wounded Knee in 1973 remains a complex and controversial event, but its historical significance is undeniable. It was a pivotal moment in the modern Native American civil rights movement, drawing unprecedented national and international attention to the plight of indigenous peoples in the United States.
"Wounded Knee was the spark that ignited the flame of Native American pride and determination across the country," stated Dennis Banks years later. "We forced America to look at itself and its treatment of our people."
While the immediate demands were largely unmet, the siege had profound long-term impacts:
- Increased Awareness: It educated a generation about Native American history, treaty rights, and the ongoing struggles for justice and self-determination.
- Empowerment: It inspired other indigenous communities to organize and demand their rights, fostering a renewed sense of pride and identity.
- Policy Shifts: The pressure generated by Wounded Knee and subsequent activism contributed to the passage of the Indian Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act of 1975, which allowed tribes to take greater control over their own affairs and federal programs.
- Continuing Struggle: It underscored that the fight for sovereignty, land rights, and cultural preservation was far from over, and indeed continues to this day.
The site of Wounded Knee, once a symbol of massacre and defeat, was transformed into a powerful emblem of resistance and resilience. The 71 days of the siege represented a dramatic and courageous stand by a people who, despite centuries of oppression, refused to be broken. It serves as a stark reminder that true justice often requires the courage to confront power, even when the odds seem insurmountable, and that the echoes of history can resonate with profound relevance in the present.
