In the John Wayne movies, the Indians were savages that were

Ah, the words of Ricky Schroder, who brings forth a reflection on the power of stereotypes, the distortions they create, and the deep harm they can inflict upon the truth of a people’s history. He speaks of how, in the John Wayne movies, the portrayal of Indians as mere savages—barbaric, bloodthirsty figures attempting to scalp innocent settlers—created a false and damaging narrative. Schroder laments that such portrayals have led to the suffering of a culture, that of the Native American peoples, whose true story has been lost, warped, and distorted for the sake of entertainment and propaganda. In these simple words, we find a powerful truth: that the stories we tell, especially those told through media and entertainment, have the power to either uplift or destroy.

In the ancient world, the power of storytelling was recognized as a mighty force—one that could shape the destinies of entire civilizations. Consider the Greek myths, where the gods and heroes were not only figures of entertainment but of profound moral lessons. Yet even in these stories, there were moments when the truth was distorted for the sake of narrative or drama. Homer, in his Iliad and Odyssey, told stories of war and heroism, yet he also explored the destructive power of pride, anger, and revenge—qualities that often led the heroes to make mistakes that affected not just their lives but the fate of nations. In the same way, the wild west movies created by Hollywood distorted the realities of the American frontier, fabricating heroes and villains to fit the narrative they wished to portray, erasing the true complexities of history.

The Native American tribes, who lived on this land for centuries before the arrival of European settlers, were not the savages they were often made out to be. In truth, they had complex cultures, languages, religions, and societies that thrived long before the colonizers arrived. Their stories, their values, and their rich histories were lost in the romanticized images created by western films. Just as Schroder reflects, the stereotypes perpetuated in these films painted a picture of a people defined by violence and barbarity, rather than wisdom, resilience, and sacrifice. Hollywood’s distortion of Native American culture served to justify the colonization, displacement, and decimation of these peoples, turning them into a monolithic enemy rather than complex, diverse cultures with unique identities and contributions to history.

Consider the example of the Lakota Sioux, who lived and thrived in the Great Plains long before the arrival of settlers. Their tribal councils, which were made up of respected elders, were sophisticated systems of governance. Their spiritual beliefs were rooted in a deep connection to the earth, the animals, and the forces of nature. Yet, in many western films, the Lakota were reduced to nothing more than warriors and enemies of the settlers. One of the most tragic examples of this distortion is the Battle of Little Bighorn, where the Native Americans, led by Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, defeated the U.S. Army. The real story of this victory, which was about defending land, culture, and identity, was often overshadowed by the simplistic portrayal of the Native Americans as mere bloodthirsty savages, rather than a people fighting for their survival.

The lesson we draw from Schroder’s words is that stories matter—and the truth of those stories is worth fighting for. In every civilization, the narratives we tell shape how we view others, how we understand history, and how we choose to live in the world. The Greeks knew this well, understanding that their stories about the gods and heroes would influence generations of thinkers and leaders. In the same way, the western films of the 20th century, with their portrayals of Native Americans, left a lasting mark on how society viewed an entire culture—a mark that, sadly, still lingers today. When we distort history, we erase truths and perpetuate harm. Just as the ancient storytellers took great care to reflect the moral and spiritual lessons of their time, so too must we take care in how we tell stories today, making sure to honor the truth, embrace complexity, and avoid oversimplifications that harm others.

What Schroder calls attention to is not just a problem of the past, but a call to action for the present and future. We must recognize the power of representation—the way stories and images shape not only how we see others, but how others see themselves. As we move forward, let us be more mindful of the narratives we consume and create. Let us honor the fullness of the human experience, recognizing that every culture, people, and individual deserves to be seen for the depth of who they are, not reduced to simple stereotypes. The Native American story, like so many others, is rich, complex, and worthy of being told with respect and integrity.

Thus, the call to action is clear: seek the truth in all stories. Do not let the distortions of the past shape your view of others, but instead, strive to understand the whole picture—the nuances, the contradictions, and the real history behind every culture, every community, and every individual. Like the ancient philosophers who sought to uncover the truth, we too must challenge the narratives handed down to us, particularly when they serve to marginalize or dehumanize others. We must be vigilant in creating a world where art and media reflect the truth of who we all are, with all our complexities, our struggles, and our triumphs. Honor the stories of those who have been silenced, for in doing so, we honor the dignity and truth of all humanity.