Time for Dominance and Resistance in Northern Arapaho History and Contemporary Life

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TIME FOR DOMINANCE AND RESISTANCE IN NORTHERN ARAPAHO HISTORY AND CONTEMPORARY LIFE

JEFFREY D. ANDERSON Associate Professor of Anthropology

Colby College

At the ideological core of past Euro-American colonizing and present globalizing missions to transform cultures of indigenous peoples has been a campaign to universalize regimes of time in order to extend governance over an expanding space. Imposed forms of temporalization have operated dialectically to tie previously isolated indigenous communities to contradictions in the larger political economy while maintaining discursive and practical social distance between indigenous and Euro-American peoples. Throughout the years I conducted research and worked (1988-1994) in the Northern Arapaho Nation on the Wind River Indian Reservation (Wyoming), I became increasingly attuned to ways Euro-American institutions and actors in them imposed temporal regimes for either reform or control based on presumed universal and self-evident knowledge, while engaging little or no direct knowledge of the local sociocultural context or its history. The temporal governance imposed includes but extends to more dimensions than either cultural differences in time-reckoning, a narrow frame following the overly worn path of the Sapir-Whorf orientation (Whorf 1956), or, following a Marxian monochronic reduction (see Thompson 1967), imposed industrial work-discipline. It encompasses, rather, multiple dimensions of time, relations to dimensions of space, and complex modes of authority in maintaining relations among all of them. A concern for time domination also extends beyond anthropological efforts over the past quarter century to regain time through “history,” a mission which is often nothing more than appending the singular time-frame of the narrative history’s chronology to our analysis. Beyond historically eventful time (see Fogelson 1989) are other orders of time deployed for identity construction, economic exploitation, enslavement, displacement, exile, and other modes of domination. Dimensions range from the microtime of social interaction, to the megatime of history over the long duration, and even to deeper, longer cosmological orders based in myth or other grand narratives. In turn, all projects for revision, critique, resistance, and empowerment among indigenous peoples must confront the problem of how to gain control of time on and among all these levels. As Munn (1992: 109) states, "Control over time is not just a strategy of interaction; it is a medium of hierarchic power and governance." Imposed local systems at the level of interaction are tied to larger scale national and even global control:

Authority over the annual calendar or of chronological instruments like clocktime, not only controls aspects of the daily lives of persons but also connects this level of control to a more comprehensive universe that entails critical values and potencies in which governance is grounded. Controlling these temporal media variously implies control over this more comprehensive order and its definition, as well as over the capacity to mediate this wider order into the fundamental social being and bodies of persons. [Ibid.]

Further, such governance does not just enter through one site or field of power, such as economic relations or state power alone, but through many generative sources in social reality. In fact, there are still dimensions of time to be discovered and excavated from the tacit realm of hegemony and analyzed dialectically for the contradictions they impose. The aim here is to employ current anthropological approaches to time toward understanding Northern Arapaho history and contemporary life in terms of the disruption of traditional time, the imposition of Euro-American modes of temporalization, contradictions generated by competing orders of time, and forms of temporal resistance that have sought to appropriate local agentive governance over collective rhythms. The following discussion examines the complexity and elusiveness of this medium of domination, as well as the empowering and often disempowering ways Arapaho people talk, think, and act to resolve the contradictions such power continually imposes on their lives. From the first moments of contact between Euro-Americans and indigenous peoples of North America, the former sought to universalize their trajectories of history, grand narratives, seasonality, calendar schedule, life cyclical development, quotidian time, clock regimes, templates for social interaction, and many other less obvious temporal orders, while simultaneously instantiating and maintaining conditions and ideological stereotypes that deny indigenous peoples, along with all subaltern peoples and classes, the opportunities to conform to those orders and synchronize relations among them. Indigenous peoples’ inability to conform “on schedule” to the march of progress in turn legitimated continued paternalistic control over their lives. Vine Deloria (1994) recognized many years ago that Euro-Americans arrived with an ideological obsession with a unique sort of time dislocated from lived space and

2007 (This is a longer, unpublished, and rougher version of the published article: "The History of Time in Northern Arapaho Tribe")

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deployed their temporal projects through universalizing religions that were subsequently replaced by equally time-framed secular epistemologies of science, rationality, economic development, and political democratization. Despite the powerful role of time in colonization, the vast majority of studies of colonizer-indigenous contacts and conflicts tend to reduce complexities to a language of spatialized borders, geopolitical relations, imagined communities, grounds of contact, or land conquest. Similarly, counter-ideologies in various decolonizing movements have been limited to spatialized forms of resistance, such as geopolitical forms of sovereignty, nationhood, and self-determination. However, behind all colonizing spatial expansion are powerful engines of time and behind all successful forms of resistance there must be attention to gaining control of time. Both domination as hegemony and resistance as counter-hegemony engage relations of synchronization and dissynchronization among multiple levels of time as a means of engaging or distancing social relations. The political, social, and economic conditions of subaltern groups subjugate them to a burdensome set of contradictions for achieving the idealized synchronization among multiple levels of time and within constructed spaces of experience. A Euro-American bourgeois model of synchronization, though, is always already given with the illusion of empirical validity as the ideal for assimilation, social mobility, and personal development. In addition, the vast majority of past social scientific studies of time in indigenous cultures have reified crude dichotomies of time-reckoning. The bulk of past anthropological orientations to time have served the distancing mission of time as an “us versus them,” observer versus Other (see Fabian 1983) estrangement. Among the crudest dichotomies is that of linear progressive versus cyclical mythico-ritual time (see Smith 1991) constructed out of enlightenment hermeneutic reflections on Judeo-Christian versus Other religions, a dichotomy that still persists in various guises, such as the “history versus people without history.” Two other related dichotomies include the literate long-range time versus oral short-range time distinction (Goody and Watt 1972) and clock-time versus Indian time dichotomy (Philips 1989; Hall 1983; and Pickering 2004) that either valorizes or criticizes one side or the other. Today, indigenous and Euro-American persons, communities, and institutions are complexly interconnected and in contradiction at multiple levels of both traditional and imposed orders of time, so dichotomies are no longer of any but minor heuristic value. Both cultures incorporate and synchronize multiple types of time. Crude contrasts of Indian Time vs. white man’s clock time, circular vs. linear time, progressive vs. nonprogressive, traditional vs. industrial work-discipline, and so on, conceal the complexity of time involved in cultural contact and explain nothing about the ways that imposed time forms serve as a means of domination. As Philips (1989) recognizes at Warm Springs, there is no clear dichotomy of Indian time vs. white time in just the one dimension of time-reckoning she examines. Both forms intermingle in interesting ways in reservation life. As such, the difference is not like linguistic or cultural codes one switches on or off in social practice. Beyond synoptic mappings of spatialized time, it is thus necessary to examine modes of movement, rhythm, and tempo in the everyday flow of social practice in order to understand historical changes and the unequal distribution of power, wealth, and status. This shift in time study is reflected in emerging anthropological approaches, such or the compilation edited by Bender and Wellbury (1991). Borrowing from Bakhtin's (1981) concept of chronotope this work centers on “chronotypes,” defined in the introduction as "models or patterns through which time assumes practical or conceptual significance. Time is not given but fabricated in ongoing process constantly being made and remade at multiple individual, social, and cultural levels" (1991: 4). Following Bourdieu, perspectives on time for dominance and resistance must look at "practices defined by the fact that their temporal structure, direction, and rhythm are constitutive of their meaning" (1977: 9). This meaning is generated through connectivity preferred by Munn's concept of “temporalization,” defined as the process through which actors are not just “in time,” but are “constructing it and their own time in the particular kinds of relations between themselves (and their purposes) and the temporal reference points (which are also spatial forms)” (1992: 104). As such, groups and individuals actively constitute their boundaries, identity, and control through connections to reference points in space and time, though access to these connections is never distributed equally to all actors. Alienation from control over time coordination began for indigenous peoples as an exile from traditional lands. Concomitant in history with visible, spatialized restriction of movement or geopolitical relocation, Deloria recognizes the less often considered "exile" from traditional orders of time:

Not only did their geographic confinement work to destroy the sacred calendars of tribes, but the effort to perpetuate traditional life within the confines of the reservation was vulnerable to overtures by the federal government, seeking to make the people abandon old ways and adopt new practices which were carefully orchestrated by a new sense of time--a measured time which had little to do with cosmic realities. It is debatable which factor was most important in the destruction of tribal ceremonial life: the prohibition of performances of traditional rituals by the government, or the introduction of white man's system of keeping time. [1985: 18]

In the early reservation context, new orders of measured time struck indigenous peoples as a peculiar new order. The Southern Arapaho artist Carl Sweezy reflects that:

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It was a long time before we knew what the figures on the face of the clock meant, or why people looked at them before they ate their meals or started off to church. We had to learn that clocks had something to do with the hours and minutes that white people mentioned so often. Hours, minutes, and seconds were such small divisions of time that we never thought of them. When the sun rose, when it was high in the sky, and when it set were all the divisions of the day that we had ever found necessary when we followed the old Arapaho road. When we went on a hunting trip or to a sun dance, we counted time by sleeps. [Sweezy in Bass 1966: 6]

All forms of domination in the colonial encounter involve the interrelationship of space and time for punitive, sequestrative, exploitative, assimilative, canalizing, and even exterminating functions. For many indigenous peoples in the United States, exile from traditional territories and then confinement on reservations strained, ruptured, or at least altered traditional modes of constituting time. As such, the new forms of time disrupted traditional ways of phasing communication, maintaining subsistence, generating life, coordinating political relations, and renewing the world through ritual. The first changes in traditional Arapaho temporalization were the result of indirect effects of contact well before Europeans arrived with a clock or calendar. For example, appropriation of the horse by the mid-eighteenth century from Mexican settlements to the southwest altered Arapaho seasonal movement, life trajectory, daily cycle, and history. Prior to that, Arapaho oral historical evidence establishes that the tribe was living on the Plains and traveling with the seasons into and out of the Rocky Mountains, using dogs as beasts of burden (Toll 1962). A complete understanding of pre-horse orders of time eludes reliable study, but some changes resulting from horse transportation and trade can be sketched out. In the seasonal cycle, leaders had to begin to coordinate movement over a larger territory to find grasslands to feed the herds, to acquire horses through raids or trade, and for defense against increasing intrusion into their territory. Coordinated movement for hunts, defense, and war parties became even more concerted priorities of Arapaho men’s age grade system. Westward movement of Euro-Americans also pushed new indigenous groups onto the Plains, intensifying both intertribal cooperation and competition. Visits to other tribes and grand encampments for trade took on a central role in the seasonal cycle. Possibilities for raids and defensive battles also increased in importance on all levels of time. The roles of the men’s age grade societies in battle and hunting became more central in daily, seasonal, life cyclical, and historical time. The Spear Men, for example, took on a more intensive policing role for collective hunts, punishing any rider who rode out ahead of the predetermined line. Horse husbandry in turn changed the daily and seasonal cycles of activities for both men and women. Redefining internal and external economic relations, horses also became central objects of exchange for ceremonial, kinship, and legal processes. Horses moved to the center of the ongoing economic time of obligations accumulated in the past and plans for future value exchange. In all, horses moved to the fore of conscious constructions and material realities for interconnecting past, present, and future. The greatest direct effect on Arapaho time was the disruption of the seasonal cycle of practices and movement on the land. Euro-American migration through and settlement in their traditional territory interrupted the seasonal movement. Indirectly, this occurred with depletion of game in the central Arapaho territory of eastern Colorado beginning with the gold rush of the 1850s-60s. Directly, this happened as travel to traditional places for seasonal activities became increasingly difficult in a shrinking space. Prior to the 1850s Arapaho territory extended as far north as Montana, south to the Arkansas River, east to the Black Hills and western Kansas and Nebraska, and west to the Rocky Mountains. As for other Plains societies, Arapaho camp movements were synchronized with the migration and gathering of buffalo, movements of other peoples, and seasonal availability of other resources. When the buffalo came together Arapaho camps came together into larger bands, or bands into an even larger camp circle. As Eggan describes:

This oscillation between the band and the camp circle was closely related to the habits of the buffalo, on whom the High Plains tribes primarily depended. During the fall and winter the buffalo herds broke up into small groups and scattered widely, seeking shelter and forage. The various tribes did likewise.... In the late spring and early summer, as grass became available, the buffalo began to congregate in larger and larger numbers for the mating season. The tribal bands also began to assemble, both the communal hunting and the performance of tribal and social rituals. [Eggan 1966: 54]

During the coldest months of the year, families dispersed into small camps close enough for easy contact among them and spent much time inside the tipi, sewing, gambling, storytelling, and visiting. In summer, bands came together in larger camp circles for collective buffalo hunts and the ceremonies in the beyoowu'u series, including the men's age grade society lodges, the women's Buffalo lodge, and the Offerings-Lodge (i.e., Sun Dance). In late summer, around August, tribes occasionally came together for intertribal trade. Late summer and autumn marked the season for berry picking.

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Given that both buffalo and the people themselves traveled along the river systems, the construction of towns and forts along the rivers made it increasingly difficult to hunt and follow the traditional seasonal cycle. Euro-American immigrants commonly adopted existing trails for transportation and settlement, thus creating barriers for traditional Arapaho movement. Famines and epidemics also made it increasingly difficult to hold seasonal ceremonies and maintain the traditional model of the life trajectory. The direct effects of Euro-American contact and settlement transformed traditional orders of time most dramatically. Depletion of game, epidemic diseases, guns, militarization, dependency on annuities, and increasing trade dramatically reshaped time on all levels, as well as the ways Arapaho leaders, families, and individuals adapted modes of temporalization to survive in a transformed environment. Seasonal movements had to be altered to find decreasing game, conform to military control of their movement, and avoid Euro-American aggression, while still planning necessary contacts for trade and annuities. Traditional ceremonies and medicine practices had to be adapted to declining resources for maintaining them, as well as the increased and often abrupt mortality brought by disease, military attacks, and intensifying intertribal warfare. The emphasis of life-generating ritual practices, for example, shifted to greater attention to redressing crisis. Treaty negotiations not only circumscribed territory but also brought Arapahos into a new order of time configured by literate knowledge. Treaties and other agreements became an irreversible historical reference point for both empowerment and disempowerment in intermediation with the federal government. While Euro-Americans deployed literate knowledge for continuity, predictability, and progress of legal-political and economic relations through time, Arapahos, along with other indigenous peoples, experienced the opposite, but realized that written forms were the powerful medium for controlling the time of relations with non-Indian power. In turn, economic dependency became a factor in the seasonal cycle. After the first Treaty of Fort Laramie in 1851, the distribution of annuities at forts and trade in buffalo robes redefined seasonal band movements. Arapahos began to synchronize practices and movement with government imposed regular resource distribution while at the same time experiencing to the unpredictable and, at times abruptly destructive, practices and movement of Euro-Americans. They came to know and ponder Euro-Americans’ rational and literate-based predictability and regularity in time on one side and treaty violations, unprovoked attacks, racist madness, and bureaucratic inefficiency on the other. Entering Arapaho lands in Colorado in violation of the treaties, military forces and private parties occasionally reacted to any Indian resistance with violent force. By the 1860s, the Colorado gold rush and Oregon Trail traffic had a dramatic impact. Disruptive conflicts changed seasonal movements. In 1865, after the Sand Creek Massacre, Northern Arapaho bands moved north into Wyoming where some herds survived and the non-Indian presence was still small. Throughout the 1860-70s Northern Arapaho bands adapted by maintaining distance from Euro-Americans and trying to follow their seasonal cycle as well as possible. Even though they did not join the Lakota and Cheyenne resistance to the Bozeman Trail in the after 1865, they remained unsettled and therefore defined as hostile by the prevailing non-Indian perspective. Deep in the Euro-American imagination is the association of nomadism with hostility, a notion based on the sense that settlement is necessary to realization of progress and civilization in history. Exile from traditional lands and changes in seasonal time affected Arapaho modes of coordinating multiple levels of space-time. As for many indigenous peoples, prior to contact Northern Arapahos synchronized multiple levels of space-time in thought and practice according to an idealized homology between dimensions of space and time, as well as among multiple levels of each dimension. The daily round, seasonal cycle, life trajectory, and cosmic cycle were all phased according to the same idealized rhythm, tempo, and reference points. Along the spatial axis, the body, tipi, ceremonial lodges, camp circle, and cosmos shared a common directionality and orientation. As in many other North American Indian cultures, all linear and circular motion in time followed a four phase model oriented to the four directions. In Arapaho mythic time, there have been four eras in the age of the cosmos, this being the fourth. Each is associated with one of the four directions and a particular color. Within the four directional and up-down orientation to the cosmos, Arapahos were placed in the center of the world and continue to do so in all ritual contexts (Dorsey and Kroeber 1903: 1-12). As long as Arapahos speak their language, care for the sacred Flat Pipe, and stay in the center, this the fourth epoch in the mythic history of the world will continue. The seasonal cycle, too, was structured by the four directions associated with the four seasons, respectively. Similarly, the life cycle follows a four stage model called yeneini3i' 3o3outei'i, "the four hills of life.” In large ceremonies and even small ritual actions, practices follow the same four-directional phasing of motion beginning by facing east, then successively turning to the south, west, and north, often ending in petitions to below and then above. All ritual directional actions aim to extend long life through the four stages for those attending and for all Arapaho people. All spatial and temporal forms were associated with sacred beings, as well. In this case, above is associated with Man-Above or Heisonoonin, who is unmoving and associated with sky, and Mother-Earth beneath. The four directions were associated with the "Four Old Men" who sit on buttes at the four directions and send wind and breath as long life to the people in the center. The Four Old Men are also considered past keepers of the pipe and thus sacred

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beings to be followed in the movement of history, an extension of the roles of the living Pipe-Keeper and oldest men in phasing and controlling movement in time on all levels. In ritual contexts, the practice of completing the circuit of prayers to the Four Old Men expresses the desire for the long life of individuals and the tribe to continue through the four hills or stages of life and for the Four Old Men to watch over humans, keeping their movement in life straight and true, both in the life cycle and in history. Contact with Euro-Americans and relocation on the reservation transformed Arapaho space-time homology. Today, the four-directional system survives, but the constructed environment of reservation life has attenuated its presence in everyday life. Tipis and camp circles, along with daily rituals, were once all oriented to the four directions. Changes in housing, sedentary settlement patterns, the introduction of clock-time, literacy, the calendar, estrangement from ecological time, and other imposed regimes for spatial and temporal orientation have delimited the Arapaho traditional homology of space-time. The traditional order of Arapaho time has itself become compartmentalized within the daily, weekly, and annual cycles of Euro-American time. When the four direction/stage model is expressed today it is generally compartmentalized in occasional ritual contexts. In other words, rather than a system for orienting all space and time in the lived world, the four stage model is now positioned within and must concede to wider authority of other modes of temporalization. Through homologous systems, small-scale sociocultural systems maintain local control of space-time through transposability of larger orders into smaller manageable forms (Hugh-Jones 1979). That control was, in the Arapaho case, based in an age-based hierarchy of authority. In the prereservation context, governance of seasonal and thus historical movement was vested in ritual authority of senior age grades with knowledge of the natural environment, experiences accumulated over many generations, and understandings based in sacred mythical traditions. Elders and chiefs paid attention to changes in vegetation and fauna in order to time seasonal movements with the congregation of buffalo, finding grass for horses, and coordinating movements of bands, strategic movements relative to other tribal groups, and selecting appropriate places and times for ceremonies. As men and women moved through the age grade sequence, their role in directing tribal movement in space-time widened. Almost all political and ritual authority involved the orchestration of movement and the social construction of space and time. Seasonal migrations, like all camp movements, were under the authority of the Keeper of the Flat-Pipe, the elders, and the chiefs. Ultimately, it was up to the Pipe Keeper to signal the direction and times of movement of the people, and regulate the tempo of the people as he walked carrying the pipe bundle. The Pipe and its Keeper also regulated the seasonal cycle of ritual activities. It was through the rituals associated with the Flat-Pipe, the moving sacred center of the people, that the most senior seven old men of the sweat lodge also synchronized seasonal and ritual time, and determined when and where ceremonies should be held for the tribe. Ceremonial elders also kept and channeled mythical traditions about the order of space-time in past eras. Elders were owners of the cosmological stock of knowledge accessible only to those who themselves lived life in a good way and achieved old age. Old people in the tribe were also repositories of life historical and tribal historical knowledge, which people could draw on to remember the past and plan for the future. Hilger cites one such old man who kept tribal and life histories synchronized:

Supposing a man wanted to know his age, or that of his wife or son, Old Bear would say, "You sit down here near me. Well, you were a child at such and such a time, because such and such a thing happened then. Do you remember that?" The one making the inquiry would then recall the event, and thereby a certain year. "Well, the following spring, or year, this happened." It might be another event, and the person would refresh his memory on that event. That old man would keep on telling events that happened each year for 60 years past. These events were such as were known to the whole tribe. I have heard him do this. [Hilger 1952: 86]

When there were gaps in individual lives or the group sense of the long duration, elders were called upon to fill them. In contexts of political decision-making, elders were often asked to refresh others' memories about past events, decisions, or patterns that pertained to the present situation. The historical knowledge of elders was also closely tied to the landscape, as Oliver Toll's article (1962) on Arapaho place names in Colorado illustrates. Some springs, lakes, battle sites, and other places were convergent loci of nature, historical, and supernatural meanings. Memories of battles, tragedies, illness, accidents, sacred events, mysteries, rituals, and other significant events were mapped onto the land. Some were even marked by stone monuments, called 3i’eyoono’, sites for leaving offerings to promote long life for children in general or kin suffering illness. As bands moved along trails into and out of the Rocky Mountain parks region elders told stories of these events and so passed on oral history. As Toll’s work indicates, oral historical knowledge extended as far back as at least seven generations, or several hundred years in Colorado. Such knowledge was used to make decisions about camp movements, intertribal political concerns, ritual planning, and thus the direction and tempo of history itself. While transforming Northern Arapaho seasonal movement, exile from the parks of Colorado also initiated a gradual break from traditional landscape of sacred places and past memories, a break from

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history. In 1914, for example, Tom Crispin, the young Arapaho interpreter for the Toll expedition, had no prior knowledge of the history being collected about Colorado landscape. Contact with Euro-American society brought with it new forms of knowledge to be included in decisions about band movements and the collective role of the tribe as a while on the movement of history. More and more attention focused on what was unfolding in non-Arapaho contexts, both indigenous and Euro-American. Transculturalized individuals like Chief Friday, reared for time as a child in St. Louis before returning to his people, became a source of knowledge for making decisions about how to find a place for Arapahos in the new spatiotemporal order. Elders and chiefs also often sent scouts or selected researchers to investigate conditions or religious movements, such as the Ghost Dance, in other Plains reservations. Delegations to Washington also became ventures for gathering information about the course of events. Leaders continued to rely on divine guidance, as well. In the 1870s, the Pipe-Keeper Weasel Bear dreamt that the continued life of the sacred pipe and thus the Arapaho people depended on remaining at high elevation above the impending flood to follow in the transition to the next fifth world (Warden and Dorsey 1905). In all, Arapaho political and religious leaders increasingly turned their attention to a new sense of emerging historical time necessary for mediating with Euro-American political authority. Into the reservation period they realized that to survive the tribe as a whole had to gain some control over the tempo and phasing of the flow of time controlled by a Euro-American people that portrayed themselves as rational and consistent in time, while behaving at times in the most chaotically or even violently unpredictable ways. In 1878, Northern Arapaho bands under Sharp Nose, Black Coal, and Friday were brought to what was then called the Shoshone Reservation, later renamed the Wind River Indian Reservation. While awaiting their own reservation, which General Crook promised them for Arapaho men’s service as scouts during 1876-78 at Camp Robinson, the tribe was to stay "temporarily" at Wind River with their long time enemies the Eastern Shoshone led by Chief Washakie. Into the 1880s, after General Crook's death and the promise faded, the Arapaho presence became "permanent.” Age structured authority turned then from former concerns with time to an effort over five decades to secure the tribe's permanent joint title to the land. The roles of the age societies in orchestrating the movement of the bands and tribe competed with new imposed authority over time in the bounded space of the reservation. After relocation on the reservation in 1878, the age grade ceremonies dissolved and the seven old men disappeared among both the Northern and Southern Arapaho. As Fowler documents (1982) and as I present elsewhere (2001), an adapted age structure allowed consensual focus for maintaining the ceremonies. During the early and pre-reservation period, elders monitored passage of individuals through the life trajectory of increasing and changing responsibilities and controlled selection of men and women for positions of political and ritual leadership. Only those who exhibited the appropriate level of maturity were allowed to move into position of leadership and acquire knowledge for subsequent movement through the age hierarchy. Similarly, elders continued to play a focal role in consensual and deliberative decision-making in intermediation with the federal government. While government officials often sought to hasten decision-making for the sake of bureaucratic expediency serving Euro-American interests to acquire reservation resources, Arapaho leaders continued to delay decisions until all in the tribe had talked it over and arrived at consensus defined as such by the elders. Arapahos learned that when the government pushed for a quick decision it was generally more for its benefit than theirs, but when officials slowed fulfillment of or seemed to forget promises set forth in prior agreements, Euro-Americans used stalling and delay tactics. As in all imposed Indian policy, some of the agreements, especially treaties, federal officials, made for expedient interests, came back later in history as bases for legal claims defining the course of the long duration of political-legal history. Policies and agreements made in the past based on the assumption of a projected short time span for Indians, assuming they would disappear as distinct peoples, had unforeseen long-term consequences. Indeed, careful study of this contradiction reveals much about the deep contradictions in the orientation of the American legal-political system to time. Accordingly, leaders learned that if Arapahos remained persistent with various issues, in time the Euro-American climate of political ideologies and leadership may change, allowing for resolution. As history moved on, the authority of literate forms of knowledge became increasingly hegemonic in validating history and defining the transmission of knowledge across generations. Truth about the past, continuity into the future, and the links of the present to both became more and more objectified in written records such as codes, treaties, census rolls, academic treatises, plans, proposals, and religious texts. Elders’ authority over historical time had to confront and adapt to competition with Euro-American objectivity constructed through literate knowledge. During the first years of reservation life, Northern Arapahos tried to follow a traditional seasonal pattern. Camps moved northward toward the Owl Creek Mountains away from the agency during the fall to hunt buffalo and other game. By 1885, though, buffalo had disappeared and other game became scarcer in lower elevations. Indian agent Martin reported that only ten buffalo robes were traded in 1885 compared to 2,400 in 1882 (Report of Agent in Wyoming 1885: 212). Agents and officials generally saw seasonal hunting as a barrier to peace and "civilization," equated with the American agrarian ideal. The immediate reality was one of dependency on rations of beef, flour, and

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other goods distributed at Fort Washakie each Saturday, which required Arapaho families twenty miles or more downriver to start travel by as early as Thursday returning home again by as late as Tuesday the next week. The two-day wagon ride each way consumed much of the Arapaho week, usually for food that would last for only a few days. To solve this problem, a subagency was established at Arapahoe in 1893, which served as a center of tribal life until shortly after World War II. The primary aim of assimilation from the 1880s-1930s was to re-order traditional nomadism into an agrarian chronotype. As long as families conformed to the dictates of forced assimilation, including “doing things at the right time,” the agency provided rations and other assistance for farming. Agent Irwin reported in 1883: "Hunting versus civilization destroys a love for home and its comforts, prevents the keeping of milk-cows, raising fowls and domestic animals; keeps preference for the old tent life and habits, also careless indifference for property (Report of Agent in Wyoming 1883: 314).” Irwin thus expressed the Euro-American Jeffersonian ideology that agrarian life inspires work-discipline, individualism, and private property, while nomadism maintains idleness, communism, and social stasis. As Carl Sweezy counters, “If we had been idlers, we would have been wiped out by our enemies, or bad weather, or starvation long ago” (1966: 18). Thus, non-Indians typically saw Arapahos as part of an anachronistic time and thus in need of integration into "modern" time as an agrarian order to be universalized to all of America (see Fabian 1983) regardless of any other conditions. During the pre-World War II era an altered seasonal cycle developed around agricultural practices, seasonal employment, and social gatherings. As the German sociologist Felix Gross observed (1949), Arapahos continued to be nomadic well into the 1940s. His argument, which reflects the assimilationist view guiding federal policy, was that noneconomic or nonutilitarian "nomadism" was dysfunctional to adoption of an agrarian nuclear family centered economy. Arapahos continued to be "nomadic,” but much of their transhumance was in fact necessitated by reservation conditions, not just by a traditional desire to "wander" as Gross suggests. On the contrary, families were forced to travel around for economic survival because agricultural subsistence was rarely sufficient to maintain even the barest subsistence. Arapahos were unable to synchronize the conditions of their lives with the sedentary, nuclear family model of agrarian time. Assimilation programs for Indians aimed to universalize agriculture and thus conformity to a new seasonal cycle, regardless of how precarious and capital-intensive farming really turned out to be out in Wyoming. Based on the General Allotment Act of 1887, during the 1890s individual Arapaho families were assigned 80-160 acres of land to farm on their own and thus become “competent citizens.” According to the ideology, they would thus converge with other rural Americans into the realization of the Jeffersonian grand narrative for American progress in history. As with most grand chronotypes imposed for progress, the plan failed for most Arapahos. The majority of allotments were neither arable nor irrigated for many years after they were first distributed. Further, only rarely were Arapaho farmers supported by the cycle of loans and capital-investment from both private and public sources that ironically laid the foundation for American farming and ranching. Government subsidies versus rugged individualism is the unspoken irony still operating today in American agriculture. Arapaho ranchers and farmers were excluded from bank loans, cheap grazing leases, government subsidies, and infrastructure that made American agriculture thrive in Wyoming and elsewhere. Rather than generating nuclear family self-sufficiency and individualism the agricultural cycle and allotment of land sustained and contributed to a need for intra- and interfamilial cooperation in Northern Arapaho society. Family members with non-arable allotments moved to home sites where they could depend on kin who did have access to arable lands for gardens, hay, and other crops. When seasonal work required it, families came together to cooperate. Seasonal agrarian activities required cooperation within and among extended families, such as the threshing parties organized in late summer and early fall. Seasonal cooperation responded to putting up hay, digging irrigation ditches, herding sheep and cattle in and out of the mountain pastures, and caring for family gardens. There were also seasonal employment opportunities such as sheep-shearing in spring, potato picking in the fall, and also for driving freight wagons to the nearest railroad head in Rawlins 150 miles away. Some previous traditions still persisted, such as berry picking, hunting in fall, and ceremonies in summer. Contrary to Gross's suggestion that the traditional nomadic seasonal cycle inhibited adaptation to agriculture, the Northern Arapaho adjusted there social time to the new cycle. When resources in surplus were available, they were immediately distributed in planned feast events to family, district, or tribe as a whole. Economic value was not tied to future accumulation but to present needs of others, especially children and elders. All garden produce, meat acquired, income from sales of crops, or wages from regular or seasonal employment were shared through feasts and giveaways to which all in the local area were invited. Through these practices Arapahos survived the most difficult time in their history from the 1880s to 1920s when population declined, epidemic diseases thrived, and subsistence patterns remained precarious. For survival, Arapahos constructed their own cycles of time on all levels while conforming when they were able, in only compartmentalized space-time to Euro-American idealized models of assimilation. They maintained some old forms of time while others dissolved, appropriated some Euro-American orders of time while

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rejecting others, and invented new ones to survive and adapt. Surviving and remaining traditional "times" were also synchronized with the agricultural cycle. The Sun Dance, once held in mid-summer, was held later in August and September so that families could use the vegetables from their gardens for the exchanges of food required (see Hilger 1952: 154). Imposed agrarian time combined with allotment to construct a new spatiotemporality of family history and identity. Ownership of land brought with it a principle of inheritance hitherto unknown, which allowed for new enduring identification of families and their histories with land or "place." In the traditional context, whatever movable property belonged to the deceased was claimed by brothers, sisters, and other relatives of the deceased. As allotment progressed, the inheritance of landed property followed the probate laws of the American legal system. Land thus became the link to the past and to founding ancestors who defined family history and identity. Land also brought families into temporalization defined by money in the form of debt, development, and planning. Some families were forced to sell their allotments to pay for water charges and other debts levied by the agency in an invisible bureaucratic time. Even if a landholder did not use irrigation ditches or have them near his/her property, water charges were levied nonetheless. In time, the accumulation of such debts forced the sale. From the 1880s on the well-scheduled life cycle with a future progressive orientation has been the most pervasive and enduring imposed regime of time, transposed as a chronotype on all levels of social life (Zerubavel 1981; Hall 1983; Giddens 1984). Euro-American ideal parenting, schooling, and personal development are value-weighted toward future success through a properly scheduled day, year, and life cycle. One must eat, learn math, go to the bathroom, graduate, have children, develop as a person, report to appointments, and even die according to the ideal schedule. Further, according to the ethic, present desires must be deferred for future prosperity. To both past and contemporary educators, reformers, and missionaries a well scheduled day is a model for a well scheduled life, and this in turn contributes to a well scheduled order for collective progress. More broadly, the ideal is an unbroken, planned movement from pre-school to post-secondary education to promised prosperity. Persons are defined and judged by how well they follow and even over-achieve on the scheduled time line. Children who conform to or accelerate in the schedule are more readily rewarded and promoted, while those who do not conform to the "schedule" of development are defined as abnormal or hindered by disability. As Hall (1983) and others point out, poverty and inferiority are attributed to choices “not following the schedule.” Though, it should be added, rarely do subaltern groups’ socioeconomic conditions make it possible to sustain conformity to the bourgeois well-scheduled life. None the less, within the order of scheduled time there is a false assumption of egalitarian access to and control over time, such that all individuals and groups are held responsible for their progress. Hegemonic time holds that any rational citizen lives under the same conditions to “get all things done on time.” The model holds that the individual actor and the clock stand alone apart from social conditions and relations. Euro-American constructed time-space regimentation has been throughout history and remains today fraught with contradictions about which actors and institutions seldom become aware. For example, in early reservation life, beyond the agency and mission grounds there were few if any jobs available that required such routinized temporalization, a cyclical quotidian time modulated by the equally cyclical week. The vast majority of wage labor was seasonal and agricultural, not repetitive, mechanized, or career-formative within formal institutions or industrial production. Also, early reservation life both on and off the reservation were dramatically disrupted by epidemics, weather, etc. Further, rational scheduling requires separation from domestic social relations that potentially "disrupt" the schedule or distract the individual from a course of work, study, or thought. Eventually, this would contribute to an age-segregated social space in Arapaho society, unlike the inter-generationally ordered time-space of traditional life. Early on, by encouraging the construction of local mission schools, families were able to maintain some temporal land spatial connection to their children's unfolding lives. Given the ill-fate of the first Arapaho students sent to Carlisle in 1882, Arapaho leaders Black Coal and Yellow Calf welcomed the local boarding schools to minimize the separation. Both St. Stephens Catholic Mission and later St. Michael's Episcopal Mission aimed to be models of Euro-American and Christian time and space, though of course isolated as total institutions from surrounding space and time. In the weekly cycle, local schools allowed students to live biculturally. Children with families close to the schools remained at the missions during the week, traveling home on the weekends to change clothes and return briefly to Arapaho language and culture. Families living farther away visited their children from time to time. Generally, the school year lasted from September until April. The missions were the primary agents of clock-time, a seven-day week, a calendar of secular and religious holidays, and formal educational sequence for life cyclical time. In the institutional structure of missions, there were specialized time-spaces for the infirmary, dining, play, worship, sewing, baking, laundry, classrooms, and sleep. As Margaret Szasz says of early Bureau of Indian Affairs "government schools," "The school day was divided into specific blocks of time, for the goal was teach each pupil to use time wisely in preparation for "useful citizenship"" (1971: 217). At St. Stephens and St. Michaels, the daily schedule was strictly regimented, usually beginning with chapel in the morning, followed by breakfast, and then

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classes in the three R's. Afternoon instruction was typically vocational and gender specific. Domestic skills were taught to girls and agricultural-vocational occupations to boys. Of course, there is much oral history about ways boys and girls resisted or avoided the schedule and spatial separation. In this effort, Euro-American rigidly structured time-space was not only disruptive but at times fatal. In the first few years, as many students admitted to Wind River boarding schools died, not just from contagious disease but from the shock of the place and its temporal ordering of their lives. To pre-empt the trauma through their own ritual agency, Arapaho people invented new ceremonies for their children, such as rituals for hair-cutting and corporal punishment described by Hilger (1952: 43-44). Consistent with traditional ear-piercing and other life transition rituals, Arapaho people appropriated within the tribe and family ritualized relief of the shock to children's bodies. Medicine men often kept the hair cut from children for them or took it to the mountains to discard it properly. Toward the missions, the agency at Fort Washakie, and subagency at Arapahoe it was possible to retain some level of concealment of traditional ceremonies and social events. Though confined to the reservation unless permitted to leave, the very size of the land base made total surveillance impossible. On a reservation twice the size of Rhode Island and larger than over thirty nations in the world today, the small police force and network of non-Indian observers and Indian police were far from sufficient to maintain a panoptic gaze. For example, when James Mooney arrived on the reservation in 1892 he knew that the Ghost Dance he was there to study was banned and learned from agency personnel that it was no longer performed, but when he traveled to a logging camp the same night he "heard from a neighboring hill the familiar measured cadence of the ghost songs" (1896: 809). While missionaries, teachers, and agency personnel were enlisted by the superintendent to monitor compliance with rules imposed by the Office of Indian Affairs, their gaze and contact were limited. Scheduling for the Sun Dance, Ghost Dance, Peyote meetings, gambling, and other activities were kept out of Euro-American view and time. As Philips (1989) recognizes at Warm Springs, informally and intersubjectively ordered “Indian Time” allows scheduling events concealed out of the non-Indian public gaze. Fowler (1982) also identifies this as a strategy encapsulated by the phrase “not telling them whites about it.” At Wind River, schedules for Arapaho ceremonies and many social events are still not advertised in published or broadcast media, but are circulated by verbal exchange. Indigenous forms of control over time are thus not so easily dissolved and replaced, especially when contact between Euro-Americans and the reservation is so rare. Euro-American times also became imbued with uniquely Arapaho meanings and functions. Within the weekly cycle, the weekend became a time for some school children to return home and for gathering and feasting when rations and produce allowed. Friday was referred to as "butcher day," for the day cattle at the agency were slaughtered. On Saturday, the meat and other rations were distributed. Before the subagency at Arapahoe was established in 1893, Arapaho families had to travel as far as twenty-five miles, a two day ride in a good wagon, to the agency at Fort Washakie to receive rations. Following the Christian week, Sunday was referred to as "Holy Day." when people not only came to St. Michael's or St. Stephens for church services, but, when weather allowed, remained for the entire day or gathered at nearby tribal leaders' camps where they held feasts, played games, and joined in social dancing. Within the Euro-American Christian and secular calendar, some holidays also became uniquely Arapaho events. Beginning in the early 1910s, for example, Christmas week was a time for Arapaho families in each district to gather at one of three dance square halls at St. Stephens, near the Little Wind River at Mill Creek, or across the river at Bridgeport, north of what is now called Ethete. From Christmas until New Year's, people camped in tents or tipis near the hall for social dancing, speeches, games, giveaways, and feasts. Both St. Stephens and St. Michael's mission donated food and clothing. The tradition of dance halls, introduced through the influence of the agency, evolved into the community halls of today, where social events take place. The Christmas week dances also continue to the present. Other holidays and "times" have been taken over by Arapahos as well, such as Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and Easter. Some celebrations in the nearby white towns also became gathering times for Arapaho people. Among these, the most significant was Lander's Pioneer Days on the Fourth of July, at which Arapaho people camped, gambled, and often performed dances or Wild West show scenes for compensation. Not surprisingly, agents of assimilation saw such events as non-utilitarian disruptions to serious commitments to the agrarian cycle of work, though other Euro-Americans encouraged and subsidized Arapaho involvement in the cultural spectacles in the towns. By the early 1900s, while some Euro-American agents of assimilation invoked one chronotype to discard Arapaho culture as anachronistic, other Euro-Americans (e.g., rodeo promoters, movie makers, anthropologists) sought to preserve, collect, subsidize, and ennoble it. Events both on and off the reservation served many important Arapaho functions, including communication, redistribution, and collective decision-making. Social events also provided the basis for new types of scheduling and planning by tribal committees, which gave younger people opportunities to prove leadership skills to elders and the tribe as a whole. In short, these times became part of an adapted traditional life trajectory and age structure. Supported somewhat by the missions and local white donors, committees raised funds and supplies throughout the

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whole year, and had to show skills at budgeting and scheduling. These committees formed the templates for all tribal organizations to follow. By the post-World War II era, extended families also emerged as corporate groups for organizing and holding collective ritual and social events, such as feasts, funerals, giveaways, basketball tournaments, hand games, powwows, and many others. In reservation English, families are said to “own,” "sponsor," or "put on" events that interconnect the calendar with family and even tribal history. According to many people, the recent emergence of television, tribal bingo, and other new activities has brought too much competition, making in harder to organize, raise funds, and attract participation in the older traditional events, such as powwows, Christmas week, and even political meetings. The missions also contributed new life transition rituals, such as christening and funerals, both of which became bases for family centered control of time and social relations. Christening became a syncretic event combining Catholic sacrament and Arapaho traditional naming practices. With the influence of the missions and veterans groups during WWII, funerals became elaborate day long rituals often involving the entire community or tribe. In the past, funeral rites themselves involved only the immediate family and year-long mourning practices of close relatives, including cutting one's hair, slashing the skin, appearing unkempt, not painting, and otherwise appearing as person withdrawn from public life. Modern funerals are part of the process of elaboration of ritual practices that draw community wide or tribal response to individual or family crises while at the same time allowing people to return more quickly to everyday activities. “Memorializing" in other contexts, such as powwows, is an extension of the family's former ways of honoring its members and has been reinforced by the increasing solidarity of the extended family. New funeral practices were adaptations to the confined space of the reservation. Traditionally, the camp or camp circle moved on after death, illness, or tragedy, thus leaving behind the place and difficulty associated with it. Though it was common to return to care for and memorialize at burial sites, the aim of Arapaho ritual was to discard bad things to the past, and place life-negating elements and forces at a distance. Anything strong or powerful must be "set aside," but not forgotten. It must not become a burden to carry. Today, the ritual process involves even greater collective action than in the past. Funerals, the Sun Dance, and other ceremonies now aim to draw as many people as possible in the center of the tribe in order to put life-negating things behind and move forward on a straight road. Unlike Christening and funerals, some introduced Christian life transition rituals met with resistance. Though missionaries made a very concerted effort to introduce religious weddings, for example, they did not thrive in Arapaho practice. Early mission weddings were often staged and sponsored by missionaries themselves. Even today, the Euro-American wedding, perhaps most elaborate among non-Indian life transitions, is rare though becoming more common and elaborate at Wind River. Most couples still simply go to a public official for a license and exchange of vows. Calendar time and the daily schedule governed by the clock have gradually displaced seasonal or ecological time as the dominant temporization for collective rhythms, although there are still some seasonal activities, whether as an extension of pre-reservation cycle or the introduced agrarian cycle. For those few families that ranch or farm today, the seasonal cycle is still important. However, the tie of changes in activities to changes in the land is weaker today. The tie of activities to a calendar or a clock is stronger in a wage-labor economy and modern tribal forms of governance. The "agrarian period" and associated seasonal cycle of early reservation culture is as remote for young people today as the pre-reservation horse-buffalo system. For older people, it is an order they identify as the "good old days." It was a time when social life centered on the missions (i.e., St. Stephens and St. Michaels) and the town of Arapahoe. It was a time when Arapahos were more isolated from the surrounding non-Indian towns and from the Eastern Shoshone communities to the west. Beginning in the 1930s, local time began to be reshaped through “modern” forms of technology and popular culture including electricity, running water, frame houses, radio, television, sports, and automobile transportation. Modernity arrived at Wind River as the solution to past poverty and disease, but more than any other process in history transformed Arapaho space and time by intensifying interconnections to national and global clocks, calendars, and other mechanisms of temporalization. While families endure as the center of survival through time, the agrarian cycle itself has gradually been lost since to a decline in farming, ranching, and gardening since the 1950s. Shifts toward modernizing domestic life, self-determination in tribal politics, wage-labor work cycles, and gaining per capita payments from natural resources sold or leased from trust lands, brought a shift to the economy and thus time. From the 1950s on these changes contributed to some positive advances in health care, transportation, housing, and basic services, but also increased dependency on centralized private and public sources of employment and resources. In turn, this tied the local tribal economy and the lives of individuals in it to the national and global time of changing employment markets, resources, and profits. Because centers of Euro-American power effect what Giddens calls distanciation through time-space zoning of activities and relationships, to various degrees local time-spaces have afforded room for appropriation and resistance (see Starkloff 1971 and 1974). Euro-American imposed forms that promise order and consistency as superior

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knowledge generate contradictions that both perpetuate dominance and offer possibilities for resistance at the same time. Euro-American top-down control over time rarely becomes totalized, except in total institutional spaces, such as prisons, asylums, and the military. In the pre-World War II era the totalization of what Foucault posits as the disciplinary militancy of time control, did affect Arapaho people, but, only in the compartmentalized time-spaces of contact, such as boarding schools, agency offices, and rare places of employment in the non-Indian world. Until the 1940s, the Indian Agency offices at Fort Washakie and Arapahoe, along with the missions at St. Stephens and St. Michaels were the primary sites for time regimentation. Through the agency and missions, first established in the 1880s, Arapahos developed and learned strategies to coordinate activities with the clock, week, and calendar while appropriating or creating their own functions and meanings for slots within the imposed regimes. Local control over time has gradually become attenuated. On the reservation, beginning in the late 1870s, through imposed temporalization of sequential schema for social practices, daily cycles, seasonality, life trajectories, and even mythico-ritual time, Euro-American institutions gradually shifted control of time from local informal and political structures of authority to universal, abstract, and diffuse authority. Since first contact, Euro-American institutions also consistently imposed modes of temporalization for ideologically framed functions of security, progress, development, education, social welfare, and even self-determination, though all such efforts ultimately estranged control over time from local practice and agency. Grounded on universal but often conflicting civilizing epistemologies based in Christianity, science, bureaucratic rationality, capitalist ethos, technology, or even anthropology itself, what was and is considered healthy, normal, or life-generative has always been referenced to some supposedly objective chronotype in daily, weekly, seasonal, annual, maturational, and historical time. All seemingly beneficial and integrative programs to advance health, individualism, sovereignty, or self-determination share the latent historical function of increasing dependency on spatially distant the state or other formal institutions for phasing and structuring time. Today, the mission to universalize orders of time is tied to larger fields of governance emanating from a number of local sites, such as federal agencies, social programs, educational institutions, economic development programs, and tribal self-administration itself. Nonetheless, the issue of time governance figures at most only nominally or tacitly in current efforts toward revising and decolonizing practices and ideas inculcated by Euro-American educational, political, and economic institutions. This disparity owes much to the fact that temporal orders reside so firmly in the taken-for-granted field of experience and are thus less visible as forms of control, especially to those in positions of power. In contexts of time governance, there are multiple and often competing modes of temporalization that individuals and groups must negotiate. Past changes and present challenges in Northern Arapaho society revolve around negotiating multiple chronotypes or modes of temporalization and thus the values associated with them. Investing or saving money for the future in the Euro-American ideal chronotope of “security” confronts Arapaho values of generosity for family members in crisis in the present. Tribal leaders and administrators similarly face the strain between bureaucratic scheduling of resources for specific future purposes and demands of tribal members in need in the present. College students must way the demands of regular attendance against the gravitational pull to return for times of crisis in the family or tribe. What remains uninvestigated is the way the power to synchronize multiple levels of time is itself a form of capital or power unequally distributed between dominant and subaltern groups. That differential control over synchronizing time contributes to the social reproduction of differences of power, wealth, and privilege. In the reservation context, ultimate authority to define relationships among multiple dimensions of space and time now resides in state and other formal institutions. Yet much ideological confusion clouds this fact. On the surface, as apperceived through the lens of romanticism, indigenous peoples and other rural subaltern peoples are framed as less enslaved or more resistant to time governance, when in fact their lives have been more subject to the conditions and consequences of that governance than most in the dominant group. On the contrary, affluence, power, and status generally bring greater control over the exigencies of time. Dominant groups and agents of their authority often require more punctuality, scheduling, and time management of subordinate groups than they follow themselves. When all modes of time are examined together, then, the broader unequal distribution of temporal capital reveals that it affords greater leisure, control, and autonomy to the dominant group. Euro-Americans in the middle class and above have more temporal capital to control the flow of time in the progression of life as usual according to a planned schedule following a linear model for future wealth, longevity, education, and self-improvement. That privilege is socially reproduced in both global and local contexts through appropriation and cycling investment of temporal capital in purchased labor, technology, and institutional assurances for continuity among past, present, and future. Those with more financial capital can afford technology, services, transportation, and hired labor to maintain their schedule, often legitimated by the claim that the broader spatial reach and greater complexity of their work or lives requires such investment. Bourgeois individuals, families, and organizations can rely on savings, credit cards, insurance, and other resource bases for financing repairs in the breaks in time. Reliable transportation, service support personnel, administrative support (e.g., accountants, secretarial staff, etc.), repair services, flexibly accessible health care, and advanced

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communication technologies. Though dominant groups hold the ideology that their time is scarce, fragile, and constantly threatened by disruption, they are able, more than subordinate groups, to maintain synchronized connections in practice among multiple levels of time closer to the ideal well-scheduled life, and thus sustain or gain access to resources, jobs, and knowledge. Such time capital can then be reinvested back into achieving the ideal from day to day, week to week, and even generation to generation. The contradiction is that the dominant group experiences their time as rational consistency and order, while subaltern groups experience it as erratic, contradictory, forgetful, and, as early Arapahos phrased it, “crazy.” Indeed, as the history of treaty rights and other indigenous rights issues reveals, the dominant group has the privilege to procrastinate, ignore, forget, or even reschedule time for their own advantage in relation to indigenous temporalities. Thus, one Arapaho conception of non-Indians is that they are indeed “slow to move” in expressing compassion or redistributive equity demanded by current needs or crises (see Anderson 2001). Dominant ideologies frame regimes of time serving their interests as continuity, progress, and order, while subaltern groups are more prone to experience the realities of disjuncture, disruption, and chaos generated by the colonizers’ time. While dominant groups and classes are more likely to experience the genteel smooth flow of time, subaltern groups and classes are more aware of the sudden massacres, police actions, removals, arrests, lynchings, plant closings, layoffs, and other indirect disruptions that accompany poverty. At least it is generally the case that when the dominant group experiences disruptions it is not about their collective identity as an ethnic group or class. While Euro-American settlers were experiencing progress and order in Wyoming from the 1880s on, Arapahos on the reservation began to experience unpredictable health, economic, and political conditions. Part of what has come to be defined as post-modern and by extension post-colonial is the recent deconstruction of linear temporal models fabricated to lend ideological support to modernity and colonization but with enduring force of rationality and naturalness. For many generations indigenous peoples have realized what academic reflexivity has only recently framed as “postmodern” chaos in the dominant ideologies of modernity, regardless of where they lie on the political spectrum. Arapahos realized, to borrow from an Arapaho Ghost Dance song, that nih’oo3ou’u hohookeeni3i’, “whites are crazy,” meaning without a straight path to follow, lacking sense, and unpredictable (see Anderson 2006). Ironically, imposed time systems only manifestly sought to assimilate Arapahos to Euro-American society. Missionaries, government agents, officials, and educators expressed and constructed a utopian model of work-discipline based on what they believed that time and space "ought" to be for groups regarded as Other. In short, assimilation was an idealized "model" not real in the lived world of the dominant society and, as such, carried its own internal contradictions, of which Euro-American agents for change were generally oblivious but which Arapahos themselves became acutely aware. Utopian models for temporalization are a Western future-looking obsession and, when applied through utopian constructed environments, including reservations, are based in abstract principles alienated from real space and lived human culture. As a result, the effects of assimilation can be revealed in their contradictoriness as perpetuating the clear separation of Arapaho and non-Indian social space-time. This pattern continues today: behind all that professes closeness and convergence, there is always real distanciation in practice. While Euro-American actors frame their “time” as integrating, egalitarian, and democratizing, in practice they have the opposite effect for subjugated peoples. On and near the Wind River Reservation itself, informal social contact between Indians and non-Indians is very rare. The majority of social contacts between Indian and non-Indian persons and communities are within formal institutional space and time. The time-space scheduling of contacts with health care staff, social workers, educators, government officials, and other formally framed roles serve tacitly to reinforce social boundaries. Appointments, formal meetings, agendas, schedules, and other time specific devices serve to maintain the us-versus-them boundaries in complex ways. Persons involved generally only know each other in a small part if their time and space. Generally, too, such time-space zoning of Indian-Euro-American contact excludes all but specifically scheduled knowledge and discourse. Conversely, whenever boundaries come up for discussion, as in efforts toward multicultural or cross-cultural understanding, cultural difference is foregrounded as a prime mover, rather than the dominant institutions’ ways of using time to maintain spatial boundaries and vice versa. Such governance also goes beyond the “denial of coevalness” projected through a traditional ethnographic imagination and common stereotypes (see Fabian 1983) placing Native Americans in the noble or ignoble state of pastness. Euro-American institutions deny coevalness in practice on a number of levels of time besides history. In the annual cycle, local non-Indian and Arapaho time converge only for rare collective events, such as town celebrations for holidays, sporting events, and occasional conferences, workshops, and the like. Non-Indians who attend Arapaho social and ceremonial events are largely non-local visitors, save for those related through intermarriage. Encounters of governance and resistance between Northern Arapahos and non-Indians generally occur in narrow time-space zones, the majority of which are formal contexts framed within low context communicative settings for exclusively educational, legal-political, or economic functions. Resulting events are circumscribed by space but only with the incorporation of “time limits” defined as appointments, meeting times, or scheduled tasks. Viewed broadly, Euro-

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American institutions restrict the time for contact with Arapaho people to time-space zones that are not conducive to the formation of durable relationships. Euro-American rational scheduling time for work-discipline has been used as much if not more to maintain borders between Arapaho and non-Arapaho people, even when the intention is the opposite, as in progressively minded planned engagement in feasts, festivals, and so on that celebrate multicultural diversity. Contexts of intercultural engagement are always, and perhaps even more than other contexts, circumscribed by time. Non-Indians who attend pow wows to learn about Indian culture often spend only an hour or two at the most in the stands. Tourism, intergovernmental meetings, education, and even ethnographic research are always carefully framed for the time of engagement in the Indian community. Tourists, educational groups, and some researchers tend to demand a comprehensive experience in a small amount of time, a non-Indian preference that inspires local confusion and even amusement. Outsiders often assume that the totality of the Other’s social problems, culture, history, or language are so accessible and simple that they can be compressed into brief, scheduled encounters. In the extreme, an occasional amateur researcher arrived at our cultural center requesting to learn all about Arapaho religion during their weekend stay. Similarly, multicultural workshops, fact-finding tours, liaison meetings, interviews, and the like, introduced by Euro-American organizations, frame learning into small time frames. Because of the fact that many services and needs are provided in non-Indian communities off the reservation, Arapaho and Shoshone tribal members must spend more time in non-Indian space than vice versa. With somewhat greater time commitment, anthropologists and other researchers gather evidence over a summer, several summers, or for the obligatory year or two of ethnographic research. Surveys, questionnaires, and other assessments often take even less time commitment to achieve validity. Within a short period of time ranging from minutes to months depending on the methodology, non-Indian researchers then become experts on Arapaho culture. Almost all Euro-American epistemological orientations toward the “Other” arrive with the synecdochic assumption that the part of time experienced can quickly and easily represent the totality. Through forms of discursive engagement and observation that accelerate ways of learning in the normal flow of time, Euro-Americans assume they access a totality unavailable to an inside view. Thus, from an Arapaho perspective Euro-Americans have commonly been perceived as like the legendary trickster with who they share the name Nih’oo3oo. They can be crazy in a sense by their acquisitive hurry to learn without going through the proper stages. In the extreme, their conclusions and proposal are always quick and ready-made. I recall during my brief experience as a tour guide for reservation educational tours a number of cases, primarily from persons, mostly male, of wealth and professional status statements of the diminutive child-like nature of Indian culture as being like their experiences in some new England summer camp, simple solutions for economic development proposed within five minutes of arriving on the reservation, and so on. Euro-American dominant perspectives carry a priori schemes for knowing, evaluating, and problem-solving that require only a brief commitment of time in the encounter with the Other. Native Americans and other subaltern groups become ghettoized or tokenized in time as much as in space. Diversity, multiculturalism, and intercultural communication are only on the agenda as occasional topics rather than part of all agendas in all meetings. When those in marginal temporal positions deviate from dominant group temporal schemas, of course, prevailing ideologies foreground that as a marker of racial or personal deficiency of commitment to rational temporal regimes, From the external gaze of stereotypes, indigenous communities were and are viewed as deficient, slow, stunted, or static in reference to Euro-American time in motion. The single mother’s lateness to a meeting with a social worker because her old car broke down, for instance, is ascribed to her racial and cultural identity. Conversely, Euro-Americans who visit the reservation often carry in their habitus a temporalizing self- interested task-orientation. One of my jobs on the reservation was to help run a museum and cultural center as a point of access for tourists. Though many folks adjusted their tempo to the local rhythms, just as many arrived with a sense of egocentric time scarcity to be honored and cherished by others serving them. Some even carried written or mental schedules allocating time for different stops on their tour of Wyoming. Within this was a sense of maximization of experience for the allotted time. Even some amateur or professional researchers arrived with the desire to learn something about the total culture in a short period of time. This was often framed as a preselected synecdochic token of a culture, such as crafts, dances, or performance byte. I recall several folks who wanted to spend the weekend on the reservation learning all about Arapaho religion by talking and visiting with elders. With the same mental clock, many non-Indian professionals from various organizations came to the reservation for meetings functioning for “information exchange,” aiming to acquire all they need to now to make informed decisions or help others make informed decisions about the topic at hand. What I came to realize is that the great abyss of ignorance by non-Indians about Native Americans is maintained in large part by mechanisms for diminution of time connecting the former to the latter. Even among those predisposed to understanding the Other, culture is framed as something simple and accessible in information meetings, brochures, workshops, surveys, interviews, or reading a popular book. In its extreme, scheduling as institutional segregation takes the form of a sort of temporal apartheid, of employing regimes to canalize the movement of Euro-American and indigenous peoples so as to minimize contact in space and exaggerate the meaning and relevance of the carefully scheduled times of social interaction. Though time systems can

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unify, as Bourdieu adds, they also differentiate groups. At Wind River, the schedule has been a mechanism of separation. Since the time of the mission schools and the agency wardship practices and enduring with the same rigidity today, most relations between Arapaho people and the surrounding non-Indian populations occur generally in scheduled times in specialized formal institutional spaces, not in the quaint cultural situations which have drawn the most attention. Thus, educators, social workers, health care providers, and other non-Indians have a very limited spatiotemporal understanding of Arapaho people, usually framed as a problem to be solved only in small times and places in their work lives. In the unscheduled, informal spaces and times, a generalized social segregation endures. Euro-Americans and Arapaho people in the reservation context have few time-space zones that are genuinely shared or that serve as a basis for a common sense of community or identity. In turn, dominant institutions construct contact events or offices to open communication, as included in the various liaison roles, multicultural events, in-service programs, workshop facilitation, cultural awareness conferences, and other intentionally scheduled events. In the vast majority of cases the parameters and objectives of the unfolding discussion, research, or performance are framed by the dominant institutions usually according to prevailing fads and fashions in institutional intercultural culture. As such, they serve as “tokenized timing” of intercultural contact framed by the intentional function of “bridging cultural differences.” Euro-American institutions latently use the scheduling of time to maintain spatial distance from subaltern social space, but this distance affords room for various forms of bottom-up resistance and appropriation of imposed orders, as well as spaces. Euro-American institutions deploy temporal regimes to maintain spatial separation through a prescribed allegiance to ideologies of future-oriented rationality and pragmatism that ignore present conditions and deny contradictions that endure from the deep past. Even institutional cultures interconnecting Indian and non-Indian people silently function to minimize contact. Such connections become one slot on the schedule or agenda that are always forward looking in time. Contact between groups is assigned to such framed events as workshops, commission meetings, multicultural events, media interviews, etc. While non-Indians thus have meaningful “moments with the Other” to express their common community or even humanity, one rarely leaves such meetings with the sense that those with authority and resources are ever going to do anything to follow-up and create enduring changes. Indeed, one generally leaves such meetings with the sense that the burden of subsequent agency has fallen to the petitioners for change, despite the future-looking intentionality of those in charge. There are many forms of discourse that Euro-American agents employ to shift the burden in time. Foremost among them is the strategy of serving as an informational resource to help the petitioning person or organization solve “their” problems through some prescribed future plan of action that does not include the presenter. When a question or concern is raised, agents supply a list of resources (other than their own, which they rarely possess or at least surrender) where one can seek funding, guidance, or information. This is one tacit temporal distancing device, a way of saying the speaker is engaged but can not reverse past contradictions, do something right now, or commit to support in the long run. Another discursive device in such contexts is to foreground the history of one’s own connectivity to the history, issues, or culture of the subaltern group. Links in one’s own family history, contiguity with past reforms or programs, and even empathy by analogy are employed to form discursive bonds to the subaltern cause, but generally function only to reaffirm the distance. As suggested above, Euro-American agents, researchers, educators, and other professionals also tend to frame times of intercultural contact as either problematic or performative. Arapahos are compelled to foreground only partial aspects of identity for the contact event, such as tribal “problems” or expression of culture. From one side, “Indians” are framed as a “problem” for Euro-American future-looking institutions to solve, or not. In other contexts, Arapahos are asked to perform a token of their “culture” for Euro-American viewers, thus framing the time as expressive of ennobling meanings. Tourists, transient learners, and spectators want to see pow wow dancing, neotraditional art forms, and quaint storytelling. Others want to engage the “sacred” for various reasons ranging from New Age appropriation to social scientific study. Ethnographic and linguistic researchers still tend to frame interviews and observations around culture and language defined as genuine or authentic. Progressive and even radical Euro-Americans foreground the “tragedy” in such contexts to the point in extreme of cases of what Sherman Alexie calls “grief porn,” functioning either as a way of defining Euro-American power as something “Other” or for embracing white-guilt so as to atone by false empathy. In all such contexts, Arapahos must foreground Arapahoness, but only within a narrow range of options revealing only a small part of lived culture or only a formalized definition of problems. Euro-American idealized time regimes for progress, assimilation, and development have become part of the competing ideologies Arapaho people must negotiate in their day to day practices. In some cases, judgments about uses of time are impossible to distinguish as based in traditional or Euro-American values. For example, industrial work-discipline is often squarely in the center of Arapaho discourse for genuinely traditional purposes, not just from Euro-American centers of authority at a distance. Individuals in tribal government, school, or other institutional positions are formally or informally accountable for receiving wages, salaries, or travel funds without fulfilling their

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job responsibilities. Lateness, absenteeism, and idleness on the job are subject to both formal sanctions and traditional forms of social control. However, as Philips (1989) recognizes for Warm Springs Indian Time, Arapaho work-discipline unfolds in an intersubjective process of social construction, less configured by a priori scheduling, and much more adaptable to local conditions and concerns. Family crises, personal bureaucratic chores, traditional religious duties, and so on receive much more tolerance in local work-schedules than in Euro-American social spaces. Conversely, it is much more difficult for Arapaho workers to hold others directly responsible for violations of work discipline. Family and friendship ties are less compartmentalized in the reservation context than in Euro-American bourgeois space-time. In Arapaho daily life there is greater fluidity of movement of kin and acquaintances across formally bounded time-space zones than in Euro-American expectations and experiences. Ordinarily reserved time-space zones that exclude family, friends, and community, such classrooms, work places, or health care facilities, are more open in reservation life than in neighboring non-Indian contexts. For example, boundaries between exclusively adult and children’s time-space zones are generally more fluid. In Euro-American work space, children are regarded as a disruption to mono-task work-discipline (Hall 1983). In my experience, the issue of children in the college classroom became an object of formal control when the local community college enforced a rule excluding children. Previously, mothers and other caretakers brought their children to class generally only when scheduling their daily lives became problematic because alternative childcare was unavailable, regular transportation was disrupted, or activities in town were squeezed too tightly into the day. The shift from some level of agrarian self-sufficiency to dependency on centralized structures of administration, employment, and redistribution of resources, has attenuated though not entirely displaced inter-familial modes of cooperation once at the center of the agrarian cycle. As such, the present disjuncture of most Arapaho people from the economic space and time of American political economy lingers at the center of many social problems. The unemployment rate at Wind River stands at 60% and is higher in the Arapaho communities than in the Eastern Shoshone Tribe. Never have Arapaho people had their labor-time exploited in total as a labor force for capitalist production. The emerging political economy has generated increased competition for scarce resources and jobs as they appear. As jobs are advertised the emerging local ideology holds that those who arrive first will gain employment. As temporary resources are available for various kinds of assistance, there is similar view that those who get there name on the list first will have a greater chance of receiving benefits. Indeed, this system of priority listing by time of application has been borrowed from Euro-American institutions for a number of tribally administered programs as well. This includes everything from being the first to arrive at the health service clinic in the morning to seasonal jobs to housing requests and many other services. Centrally administered programs thus tie time to resources. To benefit from these systems, individuals and families must have reliable transportation and information networks. In the early pre-reservation period, Arapaho collective "time" was constituted through age structured relations referenced to mythico-ritual homologous orders of time and space. As Fowler documents (1982), the tribe maintained religious and political consensus that minimized the opposite tendency toward factionalism among families, camps, and bands. For a much longer time than in most reservation communities, age structured relations ordered the boundaries and tempo not only of religious practice, but of individual lives, family organization, and tribal governance. In the past two or three decades, though, elders have felt much of reservation life receding from their grasp, speeding faster and faster down the road, at times breaking out into an experience of chaos or hecticity. Though elders retain compartmentalized control over religious practice, there has been a significant shift in the relationship between time and their authority on multiple levels. On one side, cars, TV’s, electoral politics, factionalism, language shift, money, formal education, and other changes have weakened younger generations’ ties to collective rhythms once orchestrated through age structured relations. Thus, today, from the perspective of time governance, Arapaho lives are more pervasively controlled by the dominant institutions that at any other time in history, despite the ideological commitment to increasing self-determination over local reservation space. Less and less is age hierarchical authority the basis for defining tempo and movement in collective history, tribal decision-making, transitions in the life trajectory, activities in the seasonal cycle, and the flow of everyday social life. In the traditional context, Arapaho identity was defined by movement through the socioculturally constituted life cycle. To move too fast was crazy, to move at the right tempo a sign of following a straight and good road toward becoming a complete Arapaho person. As Fowler examines in the political context and I examine in my first book, in the broader sociocultural system, the regulator of this tempo from the preservation period forward was an elaborate age structure of age grades, women’s ceremonies, and life transition rituals. Age structure was once the dominant process of Arapaho "collective rhythms" such that, to borrow from Bourdieu, the "temporal forms or the spatial structures structure not only the group's representation of the world but the group itself" (1977: 163). For example, as each male age set moved through the grades it was associated with a particular space and type of motion in the camp, band, and tribe. Different age grades had different places in directing the movement of the tribe.

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The contradictions imposed by expanding Euro-American time governance problematized the ongoing age-structured order for the construction of identity in the life cycle. As Fabian (1983) realized on one level of time, temporalization informs all constructions of identity imposed by dominant ideologies on indigenous peoples. Fabian’s work initiated contemporary attention to the definition of categories of identity relative to time, though most anthropological studies of so-called ethnic, nation-state, or racial identity still treat categories as spatial only. A place to begin to look at chronotypes of dominance and resistance, is in reciprocal uses of time to draw cultural boundaries. As the anti-essentialist movement in anthropology has revealed, definitions of identity are never just substantive and spatially bounded, but unfold in and of various processes and levels of temporalization. Rather than spatial boundaries alone, apperceived dissynchronies between cultures provide much of the ground for contrasts of identity. The shape, tempo, and rhythm of movement through chronotypes of evolution, maturation, history, and development are invoked to define difference as much if not more than political-legal boundaries in space. What is remarkable about this is that in defining identity both sides have denied the coevalness of the other. Both Arapahos and non-Indians have defined each other as moving out of sync with their own chronotypes. Identifying a people as spatiotemporally other is not just a privilege of the colonizers. While from the outside it looked like Arapaho people were broken from the past, out of sync with progress, they created there own boundaries from the outside world in order to sustain the continuity over long durational time. Both sides have maintained distance, one in terms of definitions appropriate practice for life movement grounded in traditional conceptions, the other in terms of progressive time invoked in the name of racial boundaries for dominance. One core contradiction has been that between Euro-American legal-rational modes of defining Arapaho identity and the active eventful construction of identity in the traditional Arapaho life cycle. Identity once shaped as a life long process of acquiring a series of changing qualities and abilities appropriate to each stage and transition has been displaced into documentation and legal apparatuses. In the traditional Arapaho life trajectory of four stages or hills, one did not become genuinely Arapaho until the final fourth stage, now referred to as elder status. Oversight and control of the life process ultimately belonged to elders who decided through consensus who, when, and how fast individuals moved into new stages and positions of authority. Elders also regulated the tempo and secured continuity of the movement of children and younger people through the life cycle. Childhood was channeled by several rites of passage under the authority of elders, such birth, naming, and ear-piercing. Prior to the reservation period Arapaho society was structured by a sequence of men's age grade societies and women's Buffalo Lodge. The men's lodges were called, in succession, the Foxes, Stars, Tomahawks, Spears, Crazy Men, Dogs, Old Men, and Seven Old Men of the Sweat Lodge. The middle to senior age societies functioned to guide the movement of the band or tribe and control the space of the camp circle. Passage through the age grade sequence brought increasing knowledge and ceremonial authority. The Seven Old Men had authority over space and time, though they themselves sat quietly at the center. Traditionally, time brought people and things to the center of all levels of Arapaho space and time. As one moved through life, one moved closer to the social center of meaning and purpose. Only when elders were consulted first could a ceremony, political decision, or camp movement occur. Through a council of the chiefs, age grade leaders, and Seven Old Men, all decisions about when and where to move camp were decided by consensus according to knowledge acquired from past experience, observations of current conditions, and information gathered from allied tribes and other bands. During the nineteenth century, collective decisions about camp movements, war parties, and all other events in the seasonal cycle became increasingly complex and unprecedented as Euro-American westward movement advanced, the environment was transformed, game became scarcer, intertribal competition for land intensified, and new diseases reduced population. Leaders were forced to make decisions based on the flow of the history of colonization as they understood it, accumulated understandings about non-Indians or Nih’oo3ou’u, and projected notions about where the Arapaho people could find a future in this history and a place among white populations. The emergence of blood quantum encoded in literate documents to define identity has greatly attenuated the authority of age hierarchy and traditional ontogeny in shaping Arapaho identity as a temporal process. Blood quantum removes identity from control social practices in eventful time into a domain of citizenship as documentation and other bureaucratic surveillance by state structures. Prior to the original censuses in the 1880s, adoptees, captives, and affines from other tribes or even non-Indian groups whose lives merged into the traditional life trajectory were defined as Arapaho regardless of blood degree. Though it is possible, when one qualifies, to shift tribal affiliation, full rights as a tribal member require one-fourth blood quantum as the core criterion. In the first decades if reservation history the federal government imposed two contradictory programs for relating identity to time. One was blood quantum fixed in the pastness of acquired race. The other was future-oriented and utopian moving toward forced assimilation into a new American identity. The former was designed to fix the boundaries of rolls so as to delimit government responsibilities and expenses in anticipation of gradual extinction and thus dissolution of those burdens, while the latter aimed draw Arapahos into the great American equalizer of futurity even when current conditions of

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social stratification prevailed. Like others living in the dialectic of race, Arapahos experience the American contradiction between identity as ascribed status and idealized identity as achieved. As in most reservation communities, the contradiction has been a source of internal conflicts and tensions, but also negotiated compromises. Through political processes enrollment criteria have been changed to address inequities. For many years, for example, tribal enrollment maintained a patrilateral bias, allowing only children of unmarried parents in which one was an Arapaho man to apply for full enrollment, thus excluding children born to Arapaho women in the same context. In 1993, Arapaho General Council removed this bias. While tribal governance maintains blood quantum, both ceremonial and familial practices still allow adoptees, affines, and others who reside in the community for some time to be included in the full definition of “Arapaho.” In the real time of experience and discussion, because of these temporal contradictions Arapaho identity is continually vulnerable to external, internal, or even self-reflexive challenge, scrutiny, or exclusion. All Arapahos who appear “Indian” in the local non-Indian world are subject to external prejudice even when assimilated. Enrolled Arapahos who do not participate fully enough in community life, secular or sacred, can be seen as less than “traditional” by sectors off the community. Individuals or families who live traditionally but are not enrolled are excluded from full legal, economic, and political participation. There is another more obvious contradiction between Euro-American conceptions of when identity is acquired and Arapaho life temporalization. In racist chronotypes of the nineteenth century, slowed movement in history and stunted individual development were attributed to the inheritance of genetic substance. Borrowing this temporalization, in the early 1900s, the agency imposed blood quantum to define race for assignment of allotments. These censuses became the basis for tribal enrollment to the present. Tribal rolls based in literate forms on an unscientific, fractional genetic substance have, ironically, inscribed identity and removed control over categories from real social practices made through lived kinship and the traditional aging process. As such, enrollment continues to generate contradictions within Arapaho ways of defining persons and identity. Through acceptance of blood quantum, identity is perceived as an inherited racial substance divisible into fractionalized quantities rather than defined through traditional life movement. As Schneider's classic work (1980: 23-27) recognizes, the Euro-American symbol of "blood" is a nexus for multiple meanings and regarded continuous across time both within and between generations. Blood is thus part of a Euro-American genealogical mode of temporalization for defining durable personhood, family identities, and racial boundaries. Blood quantum and associated other enrollment criteria are part of the Euro-American imperative to expedite and finalize identity, that is, detemporalize it and remove it from human agency. Essentializing is always detemporalization first and foremost, by restricting identity to substances immutable in time on a number of levels and thus estranging it from the flow of practice. Of course, this ideal has never been achieved once and for all. As with Indian time vs. white time, Arapaho people use both systems of time to define identity. One system with rigid boundaries given a priori in time, the other based on enduring conceptions of shared time and place in family and community. In the pre- and early reservation context, those who deviated from Arapaho values were impeded in the temporal process of life movement or even shunned and pushed out of the camp circle. Today, documented identity is objectified as an ascribed status prior to practice and life as lived, alterable only in rare cases of political or legal action. Obviously, one can be identified as Arapaho in either systems, or just one. All imposed essences of identity aim to detemporalize, that is, to neutralize human agency in time to modify or transform identity or even personhood. This immutability of substance maintained in literate apparatuses stands in contradiction to an Arapaho kinship system that has been and still is flexible and adaptable enough to maintain strong ties among extended kin despite all of the Euro-American imposed enrollment and genealogical distinctions. Adoption, grandparent guardianship, ceremonial kinship relations, and durable friendship relations allow options for kinship and residence, subject more to a shared sense of time and "place." Within families, some members may not be enrolled, but still be closer than others who are. Kinship is constructed out of decisions made by kin, shared life experiences, and ongoing participation family cooperation. The ethnogenesis of identity construction between Arapahos and Euro-Americans was mutually shaped by reference to time. In other less documented respects, each saw the other as slow in some ways, moving too fast in others. While non-Indian time idealizes developing identity through a rationally scheduled linear progression in history and life history, from early contact forward Arapaho people counter-constructed the actual motion of the white world as unpredictable, irrational, or, in Arapaho terms, "crazy.” While Euro-Americans were attributing Arapaho stunted progress to nomadism and thus deficient agrarian sedentism, Arapahos saw and experienced non-Indians as ever shifting in policies, interests, and ties to place. The Arapaho sense of “craziness” also applies to children, tricksters, and other persons who are overly acquisitive, jump into situations without thinking, and seem to wander about. As some old people told me, white people have no direction because they do not keep their navels when they are born, then, keep looking for them the rest of their lives. In short, non-Indian people are outside the traditional temporalization of life.

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The pace and tempo of Euro-American rationally ordered time is also relative to frame of reference and thus always already contradictory. The very same temporalization of well-scheduled, rational time in Euro-American formal institutions does not just regularize and expedite social actions but can also be deployed to decelerate or postpone the time of relations between actors with authority and those without, especially when the latter press for compliance with existing rules or needed social change. Of course, this is the case in Euro-American social institutions in general. The higher in the order, the more strategies are used for delaying or postponing requests, demands, or inquiries from inferiors. The ideology for delay is always rationality itself for deliberating, review, or information gathering, when in some cases the intent is inaction in the long run. Time can serve for concealment of motives and estrangement following a gestural engagement. Contacts with non-Indian people in reservation life are generally experienced as brief, sudden, or discontinuous within the normal flow of time. A few non-Indians with “staying power” are generally contrasted with those who pass through for only brief periods, the typical pattern. Those who come to the local context only for brief times are suspect since they can indeed create moments of conflict and disruption to the flow of time even when they see themselves as just passing through. This is doubly complicated by the fact that in reservation institutional contexts there is often a segregation of non-Indian and Indian workers’ spaces. As such, those who stay briefly are often seen as taking something away and never giving something back. The attribution of craziness to non-Indians, though, is not a moral distinction. It is a sense of unpredictable power that can be channeled for good or bad, in all cases respected with caution and distance. These senses of discontinuity thus ironically contribute to the Arapaho view that non-Indians are actually the “people without history” on a number of levels. Professionals on and off the reservation interact with Arapaho people generally only in isolated time-space zones, relative to particular functions of economic transactions, health care, education, crime, etc. Some positions of authority for administration and the like suffer from a high turnover, thus with an institutional discontinuity of knowledge. At most, some members of surrounding communities have a sense of Arapaho history distorted by the Wyoming ideology of itself produced through narrowly written local history, monopoly of mass media, control of state political discourse, and just plain racism. The historical conditions of treaties, per capita payments, tribal sovereignty, and case law are a complete mystery to most non-Indians of Wyoming, including those working in schools, local governments, and federal agencies. As Hallowell pointed out long ago, the concept of speed based on Western quantification of time, served and still serves as the clock for racial distinctions (1937: 218). Today, what Harvey (1990) calls “time-space compression” affects reservation life, tough differently than elsewhere in the post-,modern world. On the one hand, throughout contact Euro-Americans have imagined Arapahos and other indigenous peoples in racial terms as slow to progress and resistant to change. Tying the capitalist ethic to racism, at the center of the speedometer are profit and individualism. The Indian Agent Captain Ray‘s words from 1894 echo this, "Like all barbarians, they are communists, and are loath to take up individually any untried pursuit." In almost all Euro-American temporalizations of progress from social contract theory to Social Darwinism to civil rights movement to the neoliberal model of global economic progress begin with the liberation of the individual from the collective. Energy, work, and speed emanate from the ontological ground of the isolated individual and private property. From the conservative non-Indian side, one local non-Indian view sees Arapahos as a group too privileged by government subsidies to move forward to better themselves as individuals. In the chronotype, dependency breeds stasis and slowness. As a basis of distinction among tribes, by those that moved with the tempos of individualism, profit motives, and representative government alienated from collective rhythms, were defined as progressive and now as successful. In this progressive as fast-moving vs. conservative as slow-moving the Northern Arapaho were consistently perceived in terms of the latter, since they made decisions by consensus, requiring prolonged deliberation. Those members who moved “too fast” on their own beyond what was appropriate to age or circumscribed by consensus, whether trying to be like whites on one extreme or arguing for militant radical change (e.g., AIM) on the other, were brought back into the collective rhythms by shunning and other controls (see Fowler 1982). By maintaining this tempo, the Arapaho were able to counter the divisive tendencies toward factionalism, common among tribes with division between progressive and traditional conservative groups. Arapaho temporalization of the life trajectory develops through proper ritual practices and proper social relations, or "doing things in a good/correct way," for which elders have greatest knowledge and exercise ultimate responsibility. As in many North American Indian contexts, the primary aim of Arapaho rituals is to promote and extend the life of individuals, families, and the tribe. The aim of all ritual practice is to do things correctly to borrow contemporary reservation English, or in Arapaho, nee'eestoono' ‘We are doing it right or correctly.' The ultimate Arapaho concern is to activate relations through sacrifice and exchange in order to generate life for others, to live to old age, enjoy health, and have various blessings. While the Arapaho Tribe has been seeking greater self-determination and sovereignty over reservation space in the past few decades, the pace of intercultural impact of time has been accelerating (Gleick 2000). The missing

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dimension to such earlier formulation of qualitative vs. quantitative time-reckoning, is the acceleration or speed. Europeans and Americans colonized space through what Virilio calls dromology (1986: 47), the politics of speed, through which “Western man has appeared superior and dominant, despite inferior demographics, because he appeared more rapid.” In more recent contexts of globalization, few have studied what Gleick calls “the acceleration of just about everything” as not just an effect but a driving force of global social, cultural, political, and economic transformation. During my work on the reservation, the majority of non-Indians who arrived to visit—generally for short, planned blocks of time—carried or carry in their bodies a habitus of acceleration, of a will pushing to speed up everything and everyone around them to a faster tempo, rationalized as convenience, improvement, superiority, and progress. They bring with them a deeply inculcated cultural value that associates more rapid mental processing, bodily motion, and speech with superior intellect, knowledge, ethics, and even aesthetics. Their speech and motion often conveyed a tacit anticipated disengagement from momentary engagement and even empathy, framed by the personal aura of “having more important things do elsewhere.” Their cameras could capture photographic or video images to be reviewed later because they could not pause to view the scenes rapidly passing “now.” Disruptions to their schedules were at times received tacitly or explicitly with judgments of local moral or mental deficiency. Euro-Americans with careers in business or politics often proposed total solutions to problems of local poverty within fifteen minutes after their arrival. As in so many other contexts of globalization, Euro-American “experts” can form “informed” explanations and apply problem-solving models on the basis of fast-food empiricism. As on all fronts of globalization or colonization, Euro-American models for constructive change can be applied instantly and universally with only a brief, drive-by familiarity of the local context. Similarly, researchers of various sorts arrive to collect data quickly, with the presumption that they will figure it all out later. Seeking knowledge about local culture and history, they exhibit impatience when Arapahos or local anthropologists give them fully detailed explanations or suggest that more time would be needed for a fuller understanding. Speed of automobile transportation, fast food, express cashier service, etc. has also served to segregate local non-Indian and Arapaho people. Though as one moves through everyday life at Wind River, there may in fact now be more social encounters both on the reservation and across the cultural divide than in the past, but they may be increasingly brief. The vast majority of contacts are service or bureaucratic functions. This is not to set aside speed discrimination, such as when a food server takes longer to respond to an Indian order than others from non-Indians, or the like. Euro-American dominance of course also allows the strategy of deceleration through well-situated delays, as in the decades long political processes for land claims, per capitas, and others. As a further dimension to the speed process, Euro-American spaces have greater control of the end point toward which Indian-non-Indian conflicts and contradictions are resolved. The use of literate legal texts and hierarchical can frame the issue as done, the resolution final, no further action can be taken. Once negotiated, too, Euro-American formal agreements afford finality in time, such as the Cheyenne and Arapaho claim settlement of 1961. Euro-American speed domination at all levels, of course, poses a major question for Arapaho empowerment strategies. On the one hand, some argue that tribal institutions must accelerate to keep up with the pace. Some Euro-American strategies of speed and slowing have been internalized in self-governance for leaders to gain or maintain. Some indigenous bureaucrats have followed this path, such as the prominent national leader Arapaho leaders once met in Washington, who limited meetings with tribal groups to half an hour, including time for photo opportunities. Critical of the acceleration they have observed in history, some Arapaho elders observe that money and the technology have challenged the pace and sense of doing things in a good or correct way that is at the center of Arapaho. “White man's ways,” as some call them, have made it possible for young people to move too fast so that they no longer take all the right steps in their actions and thus are no longer synchronized with the traditional time of social practice. Immediate service by flipping a switch on an appliance, following a clock instead of elders’ direction, purchase of items for ritual use, and so on have all contributed to what elders see as a shift away from the emphasis on doing things correctly through steps of preparation, not just in religion but in everyday social relations. Elders remark on the quickening pace of car travel to scattered places in a day such that people don’t stop to visit the way they used to. In their observations, speed is loosening connections and communication. For example, elders and parents observe that young people are also growing up too fast. Language shift is also associated with the acceleration process, as many elders recognize in the ability to say things more quickly in English than in Arapaho, because one has to engage in more prepared speech for the latter. Many said to me that “you can just say anything as quickly as you want in English.” Bilingual speakers also associate this with many of the modern issues on the reservation, especially those that lead to divisiveness between individuals or groups, commonly called factionalism in the anthropological literature. Of course, the pragmatic ease and speed of the invading language may in fact be part of the shift process, or as time passed and context of usage dwindled bilingual speakers have to engage increasing conscious effort to articulate in Arapaho. Further, as many speakers

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point out, ways of communicating in Arapaho took much more time than English practices. For example, situations with speakers of different ages, the oldest maintained control of the tempo and direction of the speech event. A request to an older person for knowledge or assistance could take days or months the wait for a response. The rapidity of information access through multiple modern media predisposes younger generations to instant access and response, which older generations interpret as crazy impatience. The “schedule” as the master chronotype on multiple levels continues to be the most transposable and diffuse in Euro-American formal institutions, including such forms as a regimen of health care, timelines for grant funded programs, and schedules of loan payments. In general, those who do not conform are punished or lose privileges or resources. From multiple perspectives, regardless of function or ideology, schedules are maintained as necessary and even as a democratic chronotype, allowing that all groups and individuals be given equal opportunity to progress in the time-space provided. Of course, the invisible but real effects are to preserve separation and stratification. Euro-American “successful” middle class families have, in the past two decades turned to the well-scheduled life to maintain a secure space for their children. The mission for parents becomes one of maximizing personal growth potential in children’s days through developmentally subsidizing lessons in the arts, athletic practices, study time, and so forth, while restricting television viewing, frivolous socializing, and other potentially diversionary activities. Such temporal resources are not available on the reservation and, those that are for young people, do not receive validation within the dominant society’s institutionalized life trajectory socially enforced by various, local formal institutions. At one level, traditional paths of cultural learning in ceremonies, storytelling, or informal social interaction find minimal genuine validity in the mainstream Euro-American life trajectory. Young people who learn to drum, do beadwork, or even play reservation-style basketball find it difficult to translate their skills into educational or career success beyond reservation space-time. Many of their acquired abilities are localized while non-Indian children can readily transport their skills to academic institutions and communities throughout the nation, if not the privileged bourgeois world. Of course, the Pan-Indian movement for tribal colleges, Native American studies, and urban cultural centers have contributed to greater mobility of the former, though it still does not offer opportunities that compare to mainstream education. On the reservation, there is a relative scarcity of private or public activities of the same sort. Conversely, those who acquire education or skills off the reservation find it more difficult to come back home and achieve success than to remain in urban areas. Thus, the majority of institutional after-school and summer youth programs aim to “expand children’s horizons” by giving them access to a wider range of activities readily available in the wider Euro-American society. The schedule is also idealized as progressive for cultivation of individual energies without interference, by maintaining the sequestration of functions that would interfere with each other. Scheduled time allows the modern individual to seek future realization in a linear progression. Talcott Parsons echoed this deeply engrained Western faith in the schedule as both democratic and functional for social order: “The fact that there is a time for each of many activities...keeps the claims of each from interfering with those of the others. In fact a society as complex as ours probably could not function without relatively rigid time scheduling” (In Zerubavel 1981: 52). Beginning with the early mission and agency practices and expanding greatly in the post WWII era, Euro-American “time-space zoning” of specific activities, to use Gidden’s term, has shifted reservation lived time to preoccupation with the daily and weekly schedule of movement. On this landscape, transportation has become one of the main daily concerns and greatest expenses for most Arapaho people. A good portion of each day is spent commuting from one location to another for work, school, services, and shopping. Getting from one place to another for work, health care, school, shopping, paperwork, mail pick-up, and bill payment consumes a great deal of time and is the focus for family cooperation (i.e. for rides and vehicle loans). Dispersed spaces with specialized functions has contributed to the hurried pace of social life that is concern of many elders today. Almost every elder will tell you, "People move too fast, today." As the Arapaho architect Dennis Sun Rhodes observes (1993), the shift from tents and log cabins to modern multi-room houses with time-space zones for function and individual boundaries has worked against the traditional tempo of respect relations across generations and genders. In short, time-space zoning creates boundaries among people, a sense of hectic scarcity of time. Against this trend for scattered services, the Northern Arapaho Tribal leadership has tried to subsume more and more functions under tribal control and centralize them at Ethete, the seat of tribal government, or at Arapahoe, a satellite center for the Lower Arapaho communities of Arapahoe and St. Stephens. Until the late 1980s when I came to Wind River, almost all offices and services were located at Fort Washakie. Since that time, the Northern Arapaho tribe has moved tribal, social service, housing, educational, and other program offices down to Ethete, offering extension services down at Arapaho. This addressed one of the common complaints that one had to drive all the way up to the Fort, to take all day to get things done. Distance from services also encourages being first in line and thus a sense of speed. With respect to services and jobs, there is a growing sense that getting there first is important. Lower Arapahos often commented to me that there distance from Ethete and Fort Washakie where most employment opportunities exist, works against them when they go to apply for jobs or services. "By the time I get up there, they've

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hired everyone they need." Whereas once community centers, homes, and travel were defined by the rivers, now the roads are the arteries of what moves on the reservation. Over the time I have been at Wind River, the traffic has increased significantly. Since the opening of the Northern Arapaho Tribe’s Wind River Casino on the east end of the reservation, the traffic now flows twenty-four hours seven days a week along Seventeen Mile Road, the main east-west artery. Rarely do impact studies of economic development examine the effects on local time or conditions for change. Elders' memories contrast the current automobile culture with the horse and wagon travel of their youth, by which it took ten days to ride to Casper as compared to three hours today. Elders relate the hectic, faster tempo of life to the disintegrative trend in Arapaho social relations. Many told me that, "People just don't stop and talk to each other the way they used to." The abstract authority of American culture's "hurry-up time” is seen as the social landscape of reservation life. Mass media, technologies of accelerated movement, and more rapid transportation combine to generate a sense of “time scarcity.” With the adoption and adaptation of Euro-American meeting procedures, too, the pace of group decision-making is also described as much faster than it used to be. In the past, as Fowler observes, a decision relevant to the whole tribe often involved a long, deliberate process of discussion, debate, and consensus formation. In the old days, if a group of elders wanted a man to come and give them information about some matter at hand, they would send a messenger with a feather and instructions for when that man should appear. He then had several days at least to form his thoughts and plan his statements on the matter. Today, elders and others complain that they are often called to meetings on less than an hour's notice, then, have to walk into the situation without preparation or any foreknowledge of the matter at hand. To a great extent, the increased tempo of decision-making has mitigated against forming consensus in the ways more possible in the past. Consensus takes time, whereas a decision taken by the individual, group, faction, majority, or committee is quicker. With more and more decisions to be made in tribal administration, fewer and fewer now allow elders to govern the flow of time. From the other side, young people express impatience with the old traditional tempo of decision-making. Some today propose that the old way of making decisions is "out of date" and simply not fast enough for the proliferating decisions of modern tribal governance. In all, different generations move by different tempos. The sense of "moving too fast" is pervasive at all levels of Arapaho time today. As Fowler identified for the traditional model, those at a particular stage of life who try to achieve positions restricted to older tribal members, are said to "move too fast," i.e. trying to enter a status beyond their present age status (1982). Elders today comment that young people grow up too fast by taking on adult behavior, parenthood, drinking, and so on, while still in school. Elders today comment that children are "growing up too fast," that is, taking on adult behavior (e.g., marriage, birth, and alcohol use) before they are "ready." Built into the Euro-American based adolescent subculture, now imported to high schools on the reservation, is the pressure to show one's maturity and acceptability by participating in such activities an earlier age than others. Elders attribute the accelerating tempo of modern life to technology, which makes it "easy for younger people." The common image is that "people get everything they need right away" without going through the proper steps. Elders also comment that people use their watches too much, drive their cars too fast, and want everything in a hurry. Beyond the home sense of place there is a sense that things in the tribal and non-Indian world beyond are growing more and more out of control. Time changes in time. The governance of Euro-American time and Arapaho changes to adapt have not been static in historical time, but have evolved and adapted. Time has thus defined the ethnogenesis of identities and the contexts of political economic relations. In the history of Euro-American imposed governance over the Northern Arapaho people, though, time is not as obvious or explicit as other ideological forms, such as geopolitical boundaries, nor are the changes quite as visible as direct modes of control, such as laws and treaties. With increased self-bureaucratization in the era of supposed self-determination, federal and state agencies still wield considerable control of time, in the form of non-negotiable timelines for reporting, monitoring, evaluating, accounting, and meetings to maintain compliance for funding. In many respects, the complexities, contingencies, and sheer numbers of such relationships to scattered bureaucracies far exceed what non-Indian governments can often coordinate. Time is one of the crucial issues for the Northern Arapaho people today, as it is for many indigenous peoples. However, in local research, discourse and documentation, the subject of time is rarely positioned as a subject to consider among issues for empowerment, decolonization, and self-determination. Similarly, Euro-American ideologies, institutions, and agents rarely reflect on the regimes of time they reproduce, enforce, or create. Indeed, regimes of time are among the most resistant to change among dominant and subaltern groups alike.

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