The following is from RJ Rushdoony’s The American Indian. (And no, I’m not a theonomist. But I also really enjoy some of Rushdoony’s works).
As the evening progressed, he grew somewhat serious. As we looked out of the window and saw the kerosene lamps being let in one cabin after another across the valley, he pointed to them and said, “Look at those people of mine [Indians]. They’re no good. They’re like me, just no account. All they’re fit for is a reservation or someone puts a fence around them and takes care of them. That’s it. They’re not fit for anything else.”
But, he went on, “I’ve been around the country two or three times now in the last few years, and I’ve learned something: the white man isn’t much better. He has reservation fever now. He wants someone to put a fence around the whole North American continent and take care of him. He wants the government to give him a handout and to look after him just like Uncle Sam looks after us. And he’s going to get it.”
Well, we got it.