'Day of Mourning'

Are Native Americans in Plymouth being punished for exposing an uncomfortable past?

Last Thanksgiving was not a happy one in Plymouth. Since 1970, local Native Americans have organized an annual protest to recall the suffering that colonization brought to the continent. Called the "Day of Mourning," it has always been peaceful. Last year, though, the police intervened and the march turned to chaos. The police hit the crowd with pepper spray. Twenty-five people were arrested. One man suffered a gash on his head when officers threw him to the cement while holding his hands behind his back. And now the Plymouth County prosecutor is proceeding with criminal charges against the protesters. This June 11 the court will set trial dates.

It's an important, disturbing case that has been largely ignored. The questions are explosive. Did the police use excessive force? Did Plymouth, a tourist mecca, finally get fed up with the message the Indians want to send? Indeed, do 25 Americans now have criminal charges pending against them for political crimes?

We are short on answers. The only investigation, conducted by Plymouth County district attorney Michael Sullivan, was hopelessly narrow. DAs are always reluctant to stir up trouble with the police; it makes their job more difficult. In this case, the DA simply reviewed police reports and a police video. He found no evidence of misconduct.

The Massachusetts ACLU, which is participating in the defense, has called on Attorney General Scott Harshbarger to conduct a much broader, independent investigation. His office has refused. It is, after all, an election year, and Acting Governor Paul Cellucci has also steered clear of the case.

One thing does seem certain: the incident was a case study in archaic police tactics. In most cities, including Boston, crowd control has come a long way since the '60s, with a focus on clear communication and violence prevention. To judge from eyewitness accounts and a shaky police video reviewed by the Phoenix, the police failed here on both counts. They did not make it known before the march that this time would be different. They did not gather at the beginning of the route to negotiate a peaceful compromise, or, if they truly feared violence, to prevent the march from even beginning. Instead, they massed out of sight.

When the 150-person procession turned the corner, the police tried to order marchers to disperse. When a man tried to negotiate with the police, he was arrested. To anyone watching the video, it is clear that the crowd was peaceful, and that people became increasingly confused and angry as police started to snatch demonstrators from the front line. When the protesters moved off the street, police continued to grab them. "It felt like an ambush," says John Roberts, director of the Massachusetts ACLU, who was there that day.

Initially, the police made much of the fact that the marchers did not have a permit. But as it turns out, Plymouth law requires only that authorities be notified of a march in advance. It is true that the protesters did not officially notify the town. (Why, they ask, do they need permission to walk on land that was stolen from their forbears?) But did that truly justify the response? The city certainly knew about the planned protest well ahead of time. The police held planning meetings with the county sheriff and state police. There were fliers all over town. And, of course, the same group had been protesting on the same day every year for nearly three decades. If the two sides could have agreed on a mediator ahead of time -- as we urge them to do well before next November -- this case would never have had to escalate to the courts.

But the real drama here is not a legal one. With Plymouth Rock, Plimouth Plantation, and other historical attractions drawing tourists to the town, some residents no doubt wish the Indians would just go away. And on a day that is traditionally about family and togetherness, it is admittedly easy to find the whole thing vaguely annoying.

Yet consider Thanksgiving from another perspective. It commemorates the beginning of what can only be described as a holocaust -- a horror of violence, famine, and disease caused, intentionally or otherwise, by invaders. It marks the beginning of centuries of suffering. It celebrates a disaster from which the native nations have never truly recovered. Yet in the popular imagination, all this is painted with a happy gloss.

Here, then, is a question to take from Plymouth: how does a proud nation confront the murky, uncomfortable past? With an open mind? Or with handcuffs and pepper spray?

What do you think? Send an e-mail to letters[a]phx.com.