Jonah Goldberg notes perhaps the best defense of Elizabeth Warren that liberal orthodoxy can offer:
…The first poetic vision of Europeans in the new world was that of James Fenimore Cooper, who conjured Natty Bumpo. He had an “Indian name” — he had several: Hawkeye, Deerslayer, Pathfinder — indicating that he had been “reborn” in the new world in the Indian spirit. It is the oldest and most important myth in the American canon of our folklore, from Lone Ranger, who died and became “born again” via agency of an Indian shaman, and Fox Mulder, who returned from the dead via Indian intercession in “The X Files,” born anew with the past burned away in death, to enter a new age under the flag of the White Buffalo.
So Warren’s claim to be “part Indian” is correct in mythical terms. Every old-school white Oklahoman is in this regard even if this in nominally not true. But it is not a lie to want to be Indian and to imagine your ancestors were. It is to be free of Europeanism. Emerson saw the laggard Europeanism within the Yankee mind as a curse of the unformed American, living half in shadow. It would bring temptation unnatural to us raised free in the forest; fascism, as in Italy, Spain and German, and the perennial virus of French nihilism.
Warren in that regard brings a fresh, classical Americanism from the heartland back to us in Boston where we still have tendencies. The James brothers, both William and Henry, would appreciate it. Henry in particular, in The Bostonians, could only find one worthy character up here, the country cousin Basil Ransom, a lawyer visiting from Mississippi. We are lucky to have Warren among us. She adds stock and substance.
I hope Mitt Romney remembers this and incorporates Indian blessings and ritual in his inaugural ceremonies as Canadians do and as they did in those terrific Winter Olympics in Salt Lake in 2002. And I hope Elizabeth Warren doesn’t back down on this, because wanting to be Indian, like Hawkeye, makes us in a deeper sense fully American.
Rush Limbaugh got in trouble for repeating—not coining, repeating—a phrase he read in the Los Angeles Times: “magic Negro”. (It was applied to Obama, but arises from an archetype in the liberal imagination that predates him.) Is the writer imagining a “magic Indian”? Is Betty Buckskin a “magic squaw”?
The “stock” that she trades is without “substance”. The closest her family came to real Indian blood is their spilling of it on the “Trail of Tears”. Even her recipes from Pow Wow Chow (imagine the howls of racial genocide if a Republican had come up with that title) are counterfeit—lifted word for word from that noted French nihilist and pastry chef, Pierre Frenay.
Liberals not only don’t acknowledge truth, they sweep it away like a cobweb. Bills don’t need to be passed (much less read), if they can be deemed passed. The Constitution doesn’t say what it says, it says what liberals feel it should say—and when it does not, it is dismissed as a “charter of negative liberties”.
And if the Nordic ice queen wants to imagine herself a sun-dried, wizened Hopi basket weaver, who the hell are any of us to say otherwise? Shame!