Understanding Today’s Genocides: The Snare of Analogy
‘He in Whose Interest It Was, Did It’: Lemkin’s Lost Law of Genocide
The Genocide Convention: Conundrums of Intent and Utility
Challenges of Genocide Intervention
‘Causing Bodily Harm to Members of the Group’: Rhetorical Phrase or Effective Tool for Prevention?
Building a Non-Genocidal Society
European Livestock Farmers and Hunter–Gatherer Societies: A Genocidal Collision
The Origins of Genocide against Native Americans: Virginia in the Seventeenth Century
Alfred A. Cave
The Armenian Genocide: A Multi-Dimensional Process of Destruction
Uğur Ümit Üngör
1938 and the Porrajmos: A Pivotal Year in Romani History
Racial Ideology, Imperialism, and Nazi Genocide
Mass Violence in the Indonesian Transition from Sukarno to Suharto
Volume 15 ● Number 1 ● Winter/Spring 2013—Genocide
The Origins of Genocide against Native Americans: Virginia in the Seventeenth Century
This paper will analyse that process of dehumanisation and the policies it inspired in England’s first permanent North American colony. The outpost at Jamestown in Virginia, founded in 1607, was settled by men, and later women, whose preconceptions about, and distorted perceptions of, the region’s indigenous inhabitants led them to believe that long-term peaceful relationships would be possible only if Indians underwent a total transformation of character and life-style by embracing both Christianity and European-style “Civilisation”. From the outset, the colonists, unlike their sponsors in England, were pessimistic about the possibility of bringing that about. Most settlers suspected that the security of the colony would require the segregation, expulsion, or perhaps even the extermination of its Indians. As events unfolded, Virginia’s colonial leaders at one time or another used each of these measures in their quest to render English Virginia largely free of Indians. Comparable measures were later employed in other British colonies and in the independent United States.
Demonising the Other
The roots of the prejudices that drove English Indian policy predate the first permanent English settlements in North America. While a few of the books on the New World read in England during the sixteenth century described some of its peoples as innocent children of nature, the dominant image was of vicious savages who engaged in devil worship, cannibalism and perverse sexual practices. The most popular treatise on geography, written by an Anglican bishop, characterised Native Americans as “a people naked and uncivil … given to sodomy, incest and all kinds of adultery”, devoted to “adoration of devils, blind witchcraft, and intercourse with foul spirits”.2 Stories of such monstrous practices even made their way into popular entertainment. David Ingram, a marooned English sailor who travelled by foot from Florida to Newfoundland in 1568 and 1569, on his return to England made a living by regaling tavern audiences with fanciful tales of demons and man-eaters as well as cities of gold. Influenced by such stories, Sir Walter Raleigh in his History of the World declared that the devil held the Americas “under his fearful servitude”.3 In a similar vein, the eminent Anglican theologian Joseph Mede declared that after the birth of Christ the devil had induced the ancestors of the Indians to flee with him across the Atlantic “where they might be hid, and not be disturbed in the idolatrous, abominable … [and] diabolical service he expected of their followers”.4
Early English exploratory probes in North America failed to correct such misconceptions. Frobisher’s reports from Labrador in 1577 and 1578 described savage semi-humans who ate their meat raw, worshipped devils, and probably had cannibalised several lost sailors. When a small colony planted on Roanoke Island a decade later disappeared, it was generally believed the settlers had been massacred by Indians. Contemporary accounts sent from Roanoke spoke of Indian treachery and conjectured that God had sent a plague to punish the natives for their efforts to use witchcraft against their English visitors. Indian hostility reportedly also forced the abandonment of an English colony established at Sagadahoc in Maine during the same year that saw the founding of Jamestown.
More sustained contacts with Native Americans during the early years at Jamestown did little to disabuse English readers of such erroneous notions. The most important source of information about Virginia was provided in the voluminous writings of Captain John Smith.5 In reading his books today one is struck by the ways in which facts were bent to conform to prejudices. Smith records that the Jamestown colonists would all have died of hunger had the Powhatan Indians not sent them food at a crucial time. But he gives them no credit for that kindness and generosity. Nor does he understand the motives of self-interest that we now suspect drove the Powhatans, who hoped to find in the newcomers a potential and powerful ally. Instead, Smith concluded that God out of love for his own people had temporarily softened the Indians’ hard hearts and restrained their murderous instincts. The Indians, he insisted, were basically cruel and irrational. Easily angered and extremely vengeful, their protestations of friendship were not to be believed, as they were an essentially unpredictable, mercurial, and treacherous people. Indians must never be trusted. The only safe way to deal with them was through intimidation. Unless the English in America inspired in the Indians great fear, Smith warned, they would all perish at their hands.
Experience did not correct Smith’s preconceptions. His writings contain one of the most extreme examples of the misinterpretation of the customs of an indigenous people. He provided his readers with what purported to be an eyewitness account of a mass immolation in which a number of young men were burned alive as a sacrifice to the devil. Smith described the grotesquely costumed dancers, the savage beating of drums, and the wails of the women as their sons were carried away, presumably to be thrown into a bonfire glimpsed in the distance. The account created a sensation, and was included in the Rev. Samuel Purchas’s massive collection of New World travel narratives in 1614. But some ten years later, Purchas removed the story of the so-called Black Boys from the expanded edition of his work. A Jamestown settler several years after the event had met one of the Indian men reportedly burned alive at the ceremony, and learned from him that it had not been a human sacrifice at all but rather a rite of passage, an initiation into manhood. No one had been killed. But the story did not die out. Writers continued to repeat the uncorrected version for the next century or so. To cite one prominent example, it is given credence in Robert Beverely’s celebrated History and Present State of Virginia, first published in 1705.
From Conflict to Genocide
The early years of Virginia’s history have usually been romanticised in popular writings and films, with the story of the Princess Pocahontas’s rescue of the gallant John Smith from her father’s wrath occupying a central role in the narrative. The story is questionable on several grounds. Scholars now agree that Pocahontas did not save Smith’s life, but disagree as to whether the event Smith described was really an adoption ritual or a complete fabrication by the imaginative captain, who did not mention it at all in any of his early writings. But all of the contemporary sources, Smith’s writings included, agree in portraying Indian–white relations in the first generation of settlement as a period in which low-grade intermittent violence was followed by a decade of genocidal warfare.
An episode from the early years demonstrates English behaviour at its worst. Not long after the Jamestown colony was rescued from starvation by a gift of food from the Powhatans, an English raiding party struck a peaceful Indian village nearby, stole food, burned houses, and with one exception killed everyone who did not get away. The survivor was the wife of the local sachem (paramount chief) and her two young children, who were loaded onto the boat for the trip back down river. But, as their commander recorded, the men grumbled about having Indians onboard, so to improve morale he let them throw the babies overboard and used them for target practice, “shooting out their brains in the water”.6
Back at Jamestown, the men fell into an argument about what to do with the so-called Indian queen. Some wanted to burn her alive, but the expedition’s commander decided to kill her more humanely, with a sword. For his part, the colony’s governor, Lord De La Warre, was not bothered by the slaughter. He was, however, irritated that any savages had been brought alive into his fort. The colonists had relied on coercion to obtain food from recalcitrant neighbouring tribes, and had no compunction about resorting to terrorism to achieve their objectives. They also did all they could to restrict and control Indian access to their settlement, including on some occasions mutilating or killing uninvited intruders.
In 1622, after a decade and a half of provocation in which their land and crops were repeatedly invaded and seized by the invaders, the Powhatan Indians under the command of Opechancanough attacked the English settlers, succeeding in killing about a third of them. The colonists, regaining control, refused to discuss peace terms, but with London’s support embarked on a decade-long genocide with regular times each year set aside by law for the hunting and killing of Indians who were part of the Powhatan Confederacy. (Some friendly tribes were exempted.) Edward Waterhouse, Secretary of the Virginia Company, advised, “it is infinitely better to have no heathens among us.”7 A popular poem lamenting the death of George Thorpe at the hands of the Indians declared them totally lacking in humanity, “Rooted in Evill and opposed in good/ Errors of Nature, of inhuman Birth/ The very dregs, garbage and spawne of Earth … Fathered by Sathan, and the sonnes of Hell.”8 The Company advised that the extirpation of Indians should now be the colony’s highest priority. With that in mind, the colonists poisoned over a hundred Powhatan tribesmen they had summoned to a banquet purportedly to discuss peace. In 1626, the colony’s governor, Sir Francis Wyatt, reported to London that the Indians were “infinitlye desirous” of peace. He assured his correspondents that he would exploit that desire to lull them into a false sense of security, then, after their fields were planted, renew the war.9
Despite the general agreement on the desirability of the annual extermination campaigns, shortages of munitions and manpower in English Virginia made it necessary to restrict, and in some years, to cancel them. Finally, in 1632, Governor John Harvey agreed to a peace settlement that abrogated the colony’s earlier resolution of “perpetual enmity” and put in its place a policy of restricting contact. The governor justified that agreement in pragmatic terms. While still believing that Indians were not to be trusted, Harvey and his supporters were convinced that a decade of warfare had left them so weakened they were no longer a major threat. The cost of hunting down and killing all of the survivors was simply too steep. Harvey’s new Indian policy was unpopular with many aspiring Virginia landowners and was a factor in his removal from office three years later.
The colony’s London sponsors had not anticipated such an outcome at its founding in 1607. While warning of possible conflicts with Indians and instructing the planters to do all that they could to appear invulnerable, perhaps even immortal, during the first contacts, they had been optimistic about the future, believing that association with Englishmen would bring savages to Christ and teach them the ways of the civilised. They frequently compared the presumably miserable people of America to their own ancestors, who were first civilised by the Romans and then saved by Christian missionaries. King James I, in issuing the charter of the Virginia Company, declared its true purpose to be bringing the “true service and knowledge of God” to Virginia’s benighted natives. The author of one of the colony’s promotional tracts declared that God had reserved for the English the task of bringing salvation to “an infinite number of those lost and scattered sheep”.10 But that was not a task the Virginia settlers were eager to take on. The most celebrated of those settlers, Captain John Smith, later declared the colonists hypocrites in speaking of Indian salvation when their only real concern was profit. They sought wealth, not souls.
The documentary record supports Smith’s view. When the colony in 1621 belatedly sought to make use of lands previously set aside for the education of Indians, George Thorpe, the officer charged with the enterprise, complained that he found the settlers unsympathetic. “Scarce any man among them,” he reported, “afford them [Indians] a good thought in his hart and most men with their mouthes give them nothing but maledictions and bitter execrations.”11 The colonists generally regarded Thorpe as a naive fool. The Reverend Jonas Stockton, a local clergyman, declared that only brute force would make it possible to control Indians. As for their conversion, that, according to Stockton, could occur only after “their Priests and Ancients have their throats cut”.12
Colonial authorities agreed there was little hope for the older generations of Indians. Accordingly, over the years they occasionally tried to persuade Indians to turn their children over to the English for education and training, believing if the young could be removed from the influence of their elders there might be some hope for their transformation. But the Indian elders were unwilling to give up their children, so this project bore little fruit. The expectation that the marriage of Pocahontas to John Rolfe, and her conversion to Anglican Christianity, would pave the way to the mass conversion of her people, proved false. Governor Thomas Culpepper in a report to London in 1683 dismissed recent Indian professions of interest in Christianity as insincere, and unworthy of a response. In 1696, the Board of Trade in London asked Sir Edmund Andros for an assessment of the methods used in Virginia to convert Indians. He replied tersely, “None ever heard of.”13 It is doubtful that, even in the best of circumstances, London’s plans for the deliverance of Virginia’s peoples from savagery and paganism would have proven workable. But the settlers on the ground made little effort.
Exclusion and Removal
The emergent ideology of colonialism, as I have noted, rejected without serious consideration the possibility of the co-existence on the American land of two separate but equal cultures. The architects of Empire over the centuries have turned to three alternative modes of control. One, widely employed in Spanish and Portuguese America, in Africa and in parts of Asia, involved the reduction of the indigenous population to servile status. But although some Native American slaves were traded and exploited in British North America, they were never a major source of labour in any of the colonies. Virginia’s policies over the years varied, but in general Indian servants were considered both unreliable and dangerous. Various statutes regulated and discouraged their use.
Extermination had its advocates, and as noted earlier was in fact policy in Virginia for a decade after the 1622 uprising. But it did not prove to be practicable. In its place, Governor Harvey and his successors adopted a policy that had sometimes been followed and sometimes disregarded before the 1622 uprising: restriction of Indian access to English settlements. Before negotiating the 1632 settlement with the Powhatans, the Harvey administration built a line of palisades supported by a chain of forts that sealed off the James River peninsula and thereby blocked free access to the English plantations. A resolution of the colony’s Assembly provided military commanders with authority to kill Indians found “lurkinge” near English settlements and mandated criminal penalties for any white person who engaged in an unauthorised conversation with an Indian.14 Those laws remained in effect after the approval of the peace agreement.
Harvey’s peace proved impermanent. English settlers, greedy for land, did not remain within the confines drawn up in the early 1630s. The pale line was soon abandoned, as planters moved up the James and York rivers, and over into the lands bordering the Rappahanhock and Potomac rivers, displacing Indian communities. In 1639, the Assembly passed a law seizing all land not actually occupied by Indian villages and providing for its allocation to white settlers. Indians were only occasionally paid for the lands they were forced to give up. The peace in the remaining Indian territories was disrupted from time to time by white intruders who stole food, ruined crops, killed livestock and sometimes murdered Indian villagers. After years of provocation, Opechancanough, although nearly one hundred years of age and quite infirm, led a new uprising, slaughtering some five hundred settlers in a surprise attack on 18 April 1644. The Assembly declared a new war of extermination, and for some two years hunted down and killed the badly outnumbered members of the Powhatan Confederacy. After a series of victories, the new governor, Sir William Berkeley, following the precedent set by Governor Harvey, declared continuation of the war impractical and unnecessary, and accordingly negotiated a peace settlement. Opechancanough having been murdered after his surrender, the new principal chief, Necotowance, agreed to terms that disarmed the Powhatan Confederacy and stripped it of its sovereignty. The English were now empowered to name its leaders. Most of its remaining lands were ceded to the English. Indians were required to pay tribute annually and were confined to a few reserves. They were forbidden to enter English territory without a pass. Those who did so could be killed on sight.
During his long governorship, Berkeley followed a policy that cultivated trade with the Indian survivors, but restricted their residence to a few villages. He was determined to exclude newcomers, and enlisted Powhatan assistance in driving a migrating group known as the Ricacheerians out of Virginia in 1656. Determined to pacify and protect the Indians under his control, Berkeley urged the Assembly on several occasions to pass legislation protecting their few land-holdings, modifying the penalty for crossing into English territory and forbidding Indian enslavement. Those laws were often not enforced, as Virginia’s white inhabitants were not inclined to respect the rights of their Indian neighbours. An altercation on the western frontier, involving a farmer’s dispute with Doeg Indians over some hogs and the subsequent mistaken killing by militia of some Susquehanna Indians from Maryland, escalated into a full-scale Indian war in 1676.
Berkeley hoped to restrict the scope of the war, authorising limited action against the Susquehannas, disarming his own tributary Indians, but cancelling plans to wage an all-out offensive. Critics charged he was more interested in preserving a lucrative Indian trade than in protecting frontier settlers. In fact, Berkeley’s primary concern was the avoidance of a general Indian uprising. Metacom’s uprising in New England was then under way and appeared to threaten the survival of the English colonies there. Rather than mounting a full-scale attack on the Susquehannas, which he feared would provoke all the Indians in the area to rally to their aid, the governor called for the construction of a new chain of forts. Western settlers were advised to take their own steps to guard their homes and farms against Indian attack. Berkeley’s actions, or perhaps we should say, inaction, left them both fearful and resentful.
In 1676, a popular rebellion led by Nathaniel Bacon, a prominent back-country landowner and relative of Berkeley’s, resulted in the temporary deposing of the governor and the unleashing by Bacon of a policy of unrestricted genocide. Bacon, whose overseer had been killed by Susquehannas, regarded all Indians as enemies and demanded total war against them. He did not exempt those who were ostensibly at peace with the colony. In his manifesto declaring Berkeley a traitor, he charged that he “sold his Majesty’s country and the lives of legall subjects, to the barbarous heathen”.15 Denied a commission to wage unrestricted Indian warfare, Bacon raised his own army, composed mostly of small landowners, indentured servants, and some blacks, and attacked two friendly Indian tribes, the Pamunkey and the Occoneechee, both legally under the colony’s protection. After Bacon’s death and Berkeley’s restoration, the royal commission that investigated the Virginia uprising declared that Bacon had robbed and killed the innocent, adding that it was clear that the rebel had not cared “whether they be friends and Foes so they bee Indians”.16
After the war, the English negotiators of the Treaty of Middle Plantation of 1677 conceded that the Indians ostensibly under the colony’s protection had been victimised in many ways “by Violent Intrusions of divers English”. The treaty contained promises of protection of Indian land-holdings and guaranteed the same legal rights enjoyed by white settlers.17 Those promises were not kept. In 1691, Virginia outlawed intermarriage between Indians and whites. By 1705, Indians were forbidden to hold office, testify in court cases, sue whites, or strike a white person even in self-defence.18 Indians by then were a very small minority within the colony. Most of their population loss, which is estimated at over 90 per cent, can be attributed to lack of immunity to diseases of European origin. But there can be no doubt that the extreme physical deprivation and severe psychological distress that accompanied their dispossession by the colonisers, as well as outright killing of Indians, contributed significantly to their decimation.
A Deadly Template
The patterns established in Virginia would recur, with variations, in the other British colonies and later in the independent United States. Even so, American historians, with the exception of a few radical scholars, have generally been reluctant to use the term “genocide” to characterise Indian policy. James Axtell, to cite a typical example, argues that the term is inapplicable as “you can count on the fingers of one hand the authorized colonial attempts to annihilate even single tribes”.19
That argument is grounded in a very narrow concept of genocide. The United Nations Convention on Genocide, adopted in 1948, defines genocide as “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such”. Among the actions enumerated in the convention are not only killing, but anything that would “cause severe bodily harm”, or inflict “on members of the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part”.
The record indicates unequivocally that the Virginia colonists over the years in their dealings with the tribes of the region not only subjected them from time to time both to official extermination campaigns and unofficial random killing, but also regularly denied them legal protection from those who destroyed their crops and drove them from their lands—measures that clearly were intended to inflict severe bodily harm and contribute to Indian mortality. Had these events been the exception, occurring only in times of war, one might employ a different term such as “massacre”, or invoke some theory describing intercultural interactions in times of stress. While it is true that governors Harvey and Berkeley ultimately suspended their extermination campaigns against the Powhatans, the fact that they did so on grounds of expediency rather than respect for Indian lives speaks for itself. It hardly offers grounds for arguing that their policies were not genocidal.
As noted at the beginning of this paper, the perpetrators of genocide regard the victim group as unworthy of inclusion in the community or of its protection. Virginia’s experience in dealing with the presumed unworthiness of Indians would be repeated many times over the next three centuries. The idea of making co-existence possible and avoiding the necessity for genocide through the transformation of Indian character would be re-enacted on many frontiers with greater enthusiasm than in Virginia, both in the establishment of Christian missions on tribal lands and in secular efforts to train Indians in the white man’s ways. Under the new federal government, Native Americans were urged to give up hunting, learn to farm, and in the process relinquish the lands they no longer needed to whites. Indian children were taken from their parents, sometimes by force, and sent to boarding schools where they were forbidden to speak their own languages or dress in their traditional mode. The idea of “killing the Indian and saving the man” dominated federal Indian policy until the mid-twentieth century. It has rightly been described as “cultural genocide”. As a policy, it served to help marginalise Indians but did little to facilitate their incorporation into American society.
Genocide as state-sponsored physical extermination was not as uncommon as Axtell suggests. Examples can be found in both the colonial and national periods. In times of conflict, colonies and later states encouraged and rewarded indiscriminate Indian-killing by paying bounties for Indian scalps, with the highest amount paid for adult males and lesser awards for the scalping of women and children. Those bounties sometimes continued after hostilities ended and were intended not just to win the war but to exterminate the loser. In Texas, for example, the scalp bounties remained in effect until the 1880s, even though the state was almost totally free of Indians by the early 1870s. In California, where Indian-killing was rampant, private monies were raised to pay scalp bounties after the state appropriation ran out. The state’s governor in 1851 declared that a “war of extermination will continue to be waged … until the Indian race is extinct”.20
Other means employed to diminish or eliminate the Indian populations included systematic destruction of their food supplies, the distribution of infected blankets to spread disease, and the use of various poisons. But, as in colonial Virginia, greater reliance was placed on Indian removal, on driving Native Americans out of the lands coveted by white settlers. Displaced populations were either confined to small reservations surrounded by white territory or driven westward. The process was sometimes violent, the product of war, sometimes peaceful, the result of treaty negotiations and purchases. The end was always the same: the dispossession of Indians.
A Squalid Story of Genocide
When the United Nations adopted the 1948 Genocide Convention, the term “ethnic cleansing” had not been coined, but it is the term that best describes most of the interactions of whites and Indians in British North America from 1607 onwards. Is ethnic cleansing a form of genocide? If one adopts a narrow definition that stresses unremitting physical extermination, the answer is “no”. But perhaps we should think of genocide in terms of a continuum of actions stemming from the determination that some group of human beings is unworthy of inclusion in the community or of its protection. Ethnic cleansing, I believe, should be regarded as a stage or form of genocide as it targets all members of the victim group indiscriminately, justifies action against them on grounds of certain inherent group characteristics, and in undertaking those actions causes a marked increase in group mortality.
Do programmes of Indian removal, such as the large-scale relocation of eastern tribesmen west of the Mississippi instituted by President Andrew Jackson (1829–37), constitute, in the words of the UN Genocide Convention, “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such”? As there is no evidence that Jackson intended his ethnic cleansing programme to exterminate Indians, some have argued that the answer must be “no”. His supporters over the years have argued that Jackson was sincere in his belief that removal would protect a weak and inferior race unable to compete in the modern world.
But whatever the intentions of Jackson and other ethnic cleansers, removal had lethal consequences for its victims. It has been estimated that as many as half of the members of the Cherokee nation perished either during their forced march to the Indian Territory or soon thereafter from debilitation and disease brought on by the experience. The Australian scholar Tony Barta has argued cogently that “in real historical relationships … unintended consequences are legion” and that our focus must be outcomes. The struggle for resources in the development of colonies, he submits, creates “in ways that were inevitable rather than intentional … a relationship of genocide”.21 Denial of the right of an indigenous people to their own homeland invariably has lethal consequences for the dispossessed, whatever the intentions of the invader. One can well argue that a definition of genocide that emphasises original intentions rather than actual outcomes misses the point. What the myth-makers have cast as the epic of the “winning of the West” was in reality a squalid story of genocide.
2. George Abbot, A Briefe Description of the Whole World (London, 1599).
3. Sir Walter Raleigh, Works (Oxford, 1829), vol. 4, pp. 693–4.
4. Joseph Mede, quoted in John Camp, Out of the Wilderness: The Emergence of an American Identity in Colonial New England (Middleton, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1990), p. 74.
5. Smith’s writings are most conveniently consulted in Philip L. Barbour, ed., The Complete Works of Captain John Smith, 1580–1631, 3 vols. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1986).
6. George Percy, quoted in Alfred A. Cave, Lethal Encounters: Englishmen and Indians in Colonial Virginia (Santa Barbara, Calif.: Praeger, 2011), p. 83.
7. Susan Meyer Kingsbury, ed., Records of the Virginia Company of London (Washington, D.C.: US Government Printing Office, 1903–35), vol. 3, p. 672.
8. Christopher Brooke, quoted in Cave, Lethal Encounters, p. 121.
9. See Cave, Lethal Encounters, p. 133.
10. Ibid., p. 24.
11. Kingsbury, ed., Records of the Virginia Company, vol. 3, p. 444.
12. Printed in Barbour, ed., Complete Works of Captain John Smith, vol. 2, pp. 285–6.
13. Sir Edmund Andros, quoted in W. Stitt Robinson, Jr., “Indian Education and Missions in Colonial Virginia”, Journal of Southern History 18 (1952), p. 161.
14. See William Waller Hening, ed., Statutes at Large; Being a Collection of All the Laws of Virginia from the First Session of the Legislature in the Year 1619 (New York, 1823), vol. 1, pp. 126–8.
15. Nathaniel Bacon, quoted in Cave, Lethal Encounters, p. 160.
16. See Charles McLean Andrews, ed., Narratives of the Insurrection, 1675–1690 (New York, 1915), pp. 123–7.
17. The treaty text is in Michael Leroy Oberg, ed., Samuel Wiseman’s Book of Record: The Official Account of Bacon’s Rebellion in Virginia, 1676–1677 (Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2005), pp. 134–41.
18. See Hening, ed., Statutes at Large, vol. 2, pp. 490–7; vol. 3, pp. 251, 298, 452, 458.
19. James Axtell, Beyond 1492: Encounters in Colonial North America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), pp. 261–2.
20. Peter Burnett, quoted in Benjamin Madley, “Patterns of Frontier Genocide, 1803–1910: The Aboriginal Tasmanians, the Yuki of California, and the Herero of Nambia”, Journal of Genocide Research 6, no. 2 (June 2004), p. 169.
21. Tony Barta, “Relations of Genocide: Land and Lives in the Colonization of Australia”, in Genocide and the Modern Age: Etiology and Case Studies of Mass Death, ed. Isidor Walliman and Michael N. Dokowski (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 2000), p. 239.