In the final section of chapter 11, “Full Circle,” from The Dawn of Everything, David Graeber and David Wengrow explore how Eastern Woodland societies deliberately created egalitarian political systems as a reaction to Cahokia’s authoritarian collapse—and how these Indigenous political innovations may have profoundly influenced the European Enlightenment itself. At the center of this story: tobacco, transformed from shamanic drug into the fuel for what we might call smoking democracy.
From Cahokia’s Collapse to Egalitarian Revolution
Rather than viewing Eastern Woodland societies as simply reacting to European contact, Graeber and Wengrow argue these communities were responding to much longer historical processes—specifically, the rise and fall of Cahokia. After experiencing centralized authority’s excesses, these societies consciously developed more egalitarian ideologies visible in the Green Corn ceremonies and the symbolism of the looped square, where equal sides represent balanced political power.
This wasn’t a return to some “natural” state of equality. It was a deliberate political choice. These societies developed the Three Sisters agricultural complex (corn, beans, squash), emphasized matrilineal descent, and created sophisticated systems for neutralizing arbitrary power. The Iroquois considered giving people orders as morally equivalent to cannibalism—that’s how fundamental anti-authoritarianism became to their political identity.
Smoking Democracy: Tobacco, Coffee, and Political Debate
One of the most striking parallels Graeber and Wengrow identify involves the ceremonial use of stimulants for political discussion. Indigenous Americans transformed tobacco from a shamanic drug for inducing intense altered states into a social drug metered out in small doses to focus the mind during prolonged political debates. Similarly, the “black drink”—a caffeinated beverage from the Southeast—facilitated these discussions.
Sound familiar? This mirrors what would later emerge in European Enlightenment salons, where philosophers gathered to smoke tobacco, drink coffee, and debate politics. The authors provocatively suggest (while acknowledging it sounds “outrageous and absurd” to Eurocentric historians) that perhaps the Enlightenment’s first stirrings occurred not in 18th-century Europe but in 17th-century North America. Smoking democracy—the practice of combining stimulants with extended political deliberation—may have traveled from Indigenous America to European coffee houses.
The Osage and Montesquieu: Completing the Circle
The Osage Nation provides a crucial example of Indigenous political sophistication. Their complex cosmology emphasized neutralizing arbitrary power through what they described as “a series of legal and intellectual discoveries, even breakthroughs.” From 1678 to 1803—over 300 years after Columbus—they maintained an independent trading empire across a vast territory.
Here’s where the circle closes: Osage delegates (among others) were brought to Paris by French explorers shortly before Montesquieu wrote his influential works on government. Montesquieu, whose ideas about separation of powers and liberty profoundly influenced the American founding fathers, was himself exposed to Indigenous political philosophy emphasizing the neutralization of arbitrary power.
So when critics argue that American democracy couldn’t have come from Indigenous peoples because the founders were reading Montesquieu and other European Enlightenment thinkers, they miss the loop. If Montesquieu learned from Indigenous Americans, then citing Montesquieu doesn’t break the connection—it confirms it.
Political Choice, Not Cultural Destiny
Graeber and Wengrow’s crucial argument challenges two common interpretations. First, they reject Rousseau’s claim that egalitarianism represents “human nature” in a state of nature—a position they’ve already dismantled multiple times in the book. Second, they challenge anthropologists who treat Indigenous political values as merely “cultural preferences” without historical explanation, as if certain societies just randomly “like” individual liberty while others don’t.
Instead, they argue these values emerged from specific historical struggles and political debates. Indigenous Americans were aware of alternative political forms—monarchy existed among groups like the Natchez. The Eastern Woodland societies’ anti-authoritarian direction came through conscious rejection of centralized authority after witnessing Cahokia’s trajectory. They didn’t inherit egalitarianism from a mythical past; they created it through political experimentation and debate.
The Iroquois witchcraft accusations provide evidence for this interpretation. Anthropologists often examine witchcraft beliefs to understand what a society considers most morally reprehensible. For the Iroquois, the worst transgression—comparable to cannibalism—was giving orders and demanding obedience. This wasn’t innate human nature or random cultural preference; it was a deliberately cultivated political value.
Jigonsaseh and the Choice Against Authoritarianism
The story of Jigonsaseh illustrates this principle in action. When the French governor Denonville treacherously invited Iroquois leaders to peace negotiations and then arrested them to be enslaved on French galleys, Jigonsaseh—a woman who had not attended the meeting—raised an army and defeated the French forces. She proved herself, as Graeber and Wengrow note, “a far superior military tactician to Denonville,” forcing the French to eventually sue for peace.
Here was someone with military success who could have seized authoritarian control. Instead, she reconvened the Grand Council and restored the traditional mechanisms for democratic decision-making. This choice demonstrates that anti-authoritarian politics weren’t simply the default setting—they required ongoing commitment and active reinforcement even when other options became available.
Who Won the Argument?
Graeber and Wengrow conclude with a striking claim: the Wendat—including figures like Kandiaronk—and other Indigenous advocates for liberty won the argument. As they write, “It would be impossible for a European today, or anyone really—certainly true in the United States—whatever they actually thought, to take a position like that of the 17th century Jesuits and simply declare themselves opposed to the very principle of human freedom.”
This represents a profound shift. In the 17th century, Jesuit missionaries and other Europeans openly opposed freedom, arguing people should submit to God and the Church. Today, even those who don’t genuinely believe in human freedom must at least claim to support it. Freedom became the mandatory political language of modernity—a victory for Indigenous American political philosophy.
Indigenous Nations in the Present
Graeber and Wengrow remind us that Indigenous peoples aren’t just figures from the past. Many Indigenous nations maintain ongoing political autonomy and are actively expanding their territorial control. The Osage Nation provides a powerful contemporary example.
The Osage were among the few Indigenous groups able to purchase their own reservation in Oklahoma, crucially retaining the mineral rights. When oil was discovered on their land, they faced exploitation and theft—the “Reign of Terror” documented in books like Killers of the Flower Moon. However, through recent court victories and strategic land purchases, including buying ranches from figures like media mogul Ted Turner, the Osage are systematically reclaiming ancestral territory.
As the class discussion emphasizes: land is power, and the Osage Nation is buying theirs back. This isn’t just historical analysis—it’s an ongoing political reality that will shape the future of the United States. Indigenous sovereignty and territorial control remain vital, active issues in the 21st century.
Sidestepping the Evolutionary Trap
The chapter’s final synthesis returns to one of the book’s central themes: Indigenous Americans “sidestepped the agricultural evolutionary trap.” They didn’t follow the supposedly inevitable sequence from bands to tribes to chiefdoms to states, with each stage bringing more hierarchy and authoritarianism. Instead, they:
- Adopted and then rejected agriculture at various stages
- Alternated between seasonal states and more egalitarian organizations
- Developed traditions of prolonged political argument and debate
- Emphasized individual liberty as a core political value
- Created mechanisms for neutralizing arbitrary power
These weren’t people living in an evolutionary stage waiting for the next development. They were conscious political actors debating alternatives, learning from history (including Cahokia’s failures), and making choices about how their societies should be organized. Their political innovations influenced Enlightenment thinkers like Montesquieu, whose ideas in turn shaped modern democratic theory.
This completes the circle: Indigenous American political philosophy → European Enlightenment → American founding documents. The path isn’t as Eurocentric as conventional histories suggest. As Graeber and Wengrow argue throughout The Dawn of Everything, human societies have always had choices about how to organize themselves, and the Eastern Woodland peoples’ choice for individual liberty and political equality represents one of history’s most consequential political experiments—one forged through smoking democracy, prolonged debate, and the deliberate rejection of authoritarian alternatives.