Leonard Peltier spent nearly half a century in prison. A celebrated indigenous activist, Peltier was involved in a 1975 shootout on the Lakota Indian Reservation in Pine Ridge in which two FBI agents were killed. Peltier was blamed for the deaths of the two FBI agents, a crime he says he did not commit. He was sentenced to two consecutive life sentences by an all-white jury, after being tried separately from his codefendants who were acquitted on grounds of self-defense.
Prior to the shootout and his subsequent imprisonment, Peltier had organized with the American Indian Movement. He was a participant in the 1972 Trail of Broken Treaties, which ended with activists occupying the Bureau of Indian A-airs headquarters in Washington, DC. Both the United Nations and Amnesty International declared his imprisonment arbitrary and considered him to be a political prisoner of the United States. It’s widely believed that Peltier was framed — punished for his role as an active member and leader in the American Indian Movement.
“From the minute of our invasion in 1492, there’ve been numerous attempts to terminate us as a race of people,” says Peltier when asked how he got involved in activism and the American Indian movement. “And the battle isn’t over.”
President Biden commuted Peltier’s sentence to home confinement in one of the last acts of his presidency — partial freedom after 49 years. These days, Peltier lives on the Turtle Mountain Indian Reservation, in North Dakota. Known for his activism and his status as a political prisoner, Peltier is also a painter. “I was doing political murals,” he says. “But actually, I’ve been doing art all my life.”
In an interview with The Indypendent, Peltier told us about what inspires his paintings, his life after prison, and what he wants people to remember him for.
THE INDYPENDENT: Leonard, to introduce yourself, tell us about yourself and your upbringing.
LEONARD PELTIER: My English name is Leonard Peltier. My family name is Tate WiWikuwa, Wind Chases the Sun. I’m Lakota native and Anishinaabe or Chippewa native from North Dakota. Talk about your upbringing, and what brought you to the American Indian Movement? We’ve been killed by the millions – and that type of genocide continues. When I was a young boy, in 1953, I was taken from my home and put in a [American Indian] boarding school, which was quite a horrid experience in itself. The schools were so bad that [President] Eisenhower put out an order that there be no more maltreatment of Native children in boarding schools. So those conditions, and as I said, the attempts to annihilate us, was the reason I became a young activist.
Turning to after the shootout at the Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota and your framing by the FBI, what was your time in prison like? What brought you solace?
Well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I’ll tell you that much. I mean, at times it was pretty brutal. Times were very dangerous, very stressful. There were a few good moments when family were able to come down to visit, or my wife, or somebody with the kids. You had an international movement supporting you as well. Yes, I did. I had the United Nations that put out an enormous investigation and demanded my freedom, and said, “We demand his freedom and for him to be paid.” I’ve had many, many Congressmen and senators struggling to get me out of prison, and to expose what happened to me. Now, to my amazement, I can’t go anywhere without Native and even non-Native people coming up to me and want to shake my hand, want to take pictures with me, and telling me they’ve heard about me in schools, in colleges and documentaries.
So those conditions, and as I said, the attempts to annihilate us, was the reason I became a young activist.
Was painting something that you spent time doing in prison, something that allowed you to be creative?
One of the things people have to understand is that I was not living in no country club. We did not get to paint in our cells. We only got certain hours a day to go to the art room, our recreation department, and we had to buy our own supplies. There were very strict restrictions on what you could paint and what you couldn’t paint. But I hung in there. The majority of my paintings, all of them, are from historical records, photographs of my people — a lot done by Edward Curtis, who did a lot of photographs back in the 1800. A lot of people sent me current pictures of powwows of young people, elders, stuff like that, and I painted those.
In some of the paintings your family has shared with us, images of buffalo appear. Please talk about the importance of the buffaloes, and did painting them help you maintain a sense of connection to the land that you were separated from?
The buffalo were nearly exterminated, like they intended to do to us, as well as the eagle and the wolf. They attempted to exterminate the buffalo because that was our food source and they wanted to take our food source away from us. So there’s still a very sacred and alive issue in Native culture. What’s so unique about Turtle Mountains, is that before I got out, we didn’t have one. Now we have seven white buffalo here. They’re a symbol of peace, a symbol of keeping law and order in our culture. It plays a big part in our historical culture.
What has being out been like?
My home was bought by the American Indian Movement and our supporters. They all pitched in, donated, and bought me this home that I’m living in now. And of course, we fixed it up quite a bit. We’re cleaning up the yards. We’re doing a lot of maintenance to it, and it’s very comfortable. Very comfortable, of course, especially compared to living in a cell.
But even though you’ve been released, there are restrictions on your movement. You have to stay near your home most of the time?
The people that knew me all my life, that knew me when I was young, knew that I was sincere in battling for our people, survival of our people.
I can’t go 100 miles from the reservation line without a pass from Washington. We’re fighting that now because they’re only supposed to keep those restrictions on someone for no more than a year [after being released]. They’ve denied me from attending some religious ceremonies that I was invited to, and to go visit doctors. I’ve been denied the right to go and be examined or pray with the people that invited me.
Do you see comparisons between the lands of your people being invaded and colonized, and what we’re all seeing in Palestine?
What they’re doing to the Palestinian people is genocide. They’re killing women, children, babies, people in hospitals, schools. It’s no di-erent to what they did to us. Look what they tried to do to the Irish. They tried to wipe them out. This is what we got to understand. The only thing is different weapons, different time, but they are trying to exterminate these people.
How do you want to be remembered? What do you want your legacy to be?
The people that knew me all my life, that knew me when I was young, knew that I was sincere in battling for our people, survival of our people. I love my culture. I love my religion, and I think we have a beautiful history.
On Sunday, October 4th, from 2-7PM, a selection of works by Leonard Peltier during his half century of incarceration will be on view at the 15th Street Quaker Meeting House at 15 Rutherford Place in Manhattan. Hosted by Chauncey & Cyrus Peltier and the Church of Stop Shopping. RSVP and inquiries at peltiernyc@proton. me or call 347-693-8857.
