Sunday, November 21, 2025

I was enjoying an enlightening conversation with Ben—an American-history buff—about the earliest years of this country when I found myself rethinking those first decades after the Mayflower and the later ships that touched the Eastern shores.

I pictured the newcomers still carrying their former world with them: royal traditions, rigid hierarchies, fixed identities, and a deep sense of what “proper society” ought to look like. These were people who had spent their entire lives under unquestioned structures—kings, church authorities, strict class systems, inherited roles. And suddenly, they came face-to-face with communities that had survived for thousands of years under entirely different rules.

The longer story of those times is complex and brutal. The Pilgrims walked into a continent already alive with civilizations—America’s Indigenous peoples. For Native nations, the arrival of Europeans proved catastrophic. Colonists enslaved Native people, sometimes entire tribes, and brought diseases such as typhus, chickenpox, and cholera to populations with no natural immunity. Those diseases killed an estimated 95% of Indigenous Americans, a tragedy later called “the Great Dying.”

Violence, displacement, and disease devastated local tribes. Ultimately, to preserve what remained, the Wampanoag people signed the 1621 Peace Treaty—the first treaty of its kind between Native people and European settlers.

The Wampanoags, severely weakened, were in danger of being overtaken by the neighboring Narragansett. For them, the treaty offered a fragile but necessary exchange: survival skills and local knowledge shared with the settlers in return for protection by the settlers’ firearms. It invites serious reflection—America’s Native societies didn’t simply encounter the Europeans; they changed them.

Talking with Ben made me realize how little I once understood about early American history, especially about the profound influence Native peoples had on those first settlers. A stirring realization this week, as another Thanksgiving approaches.

Consider leadership: settlers discovered people who chose leaders based on ability, not lineage. Some Native women held property and political authority, even clan leadership. Many tribes made decisions through persuasion and consensus rather than decree.

The impact on the newcomers must have been enormous. Europeans accustomed to hierarchy and obedience no doubt felt confusion, maybe fear—but also, perhaps, a quiet stirring of possibility.

Some early colonists wrote about what they were encountering: families living with autonomy and mutual respect; individuals moving with confidence rather than deference; communities unburdened by fear of displeasing a nobleman or landlord.

For the settlers, the very idea of societies organized around cooperation instead of obedience must have been profoundly disorienting. For Native people, though, freedom wasn’t an abstract ideal—it was simply how life worked.

Humans have learned, since time immemorial, that whatever we live around every day becomes quietly contagious. America’s famous “independent spirit” did not arise solely from Enlightenment philosophy. Many settlers learned that spirit from the people already here—self-governing, communal, adaptive, and deeply connected to the land beneath them.

Imagine those early Europeans beginning to sense that life could be less stratified, less deferential, more grounded in personal choice. More humane. They might not have dared articulate such ideas openly—colonial life was far too rigid for that—but the influence of Native societies undoubtedly shaped their thinking.

There is a line—sometimes thin, but always real—between exposure and transformation. Across generations, “different ways of being” have quietly rearranged human assumptions. The settlers didn’t just transform this continent; the continent—and its original inhabitants—transformed them.

This history reveals one of America’s oldest and most overlooked truths:

From the very beginning, newcomers were influenced by the people already living here—learning new ways of governing, of owning and sharing land, of shaping community life, and discovering the many forms human freedom can take.

Sometimes, the deepest influences are the ones we inherit without ever realizing it.

—Diana