The U.S.–Dakota War of 1862 was far more than a single conflict between U.S. and Dakota forces. What I find particularly interesting is that even as U.S. militia and Dakota warriors clashed on the battlefield, political maneuvering had already begun among U.S. and Ojibwe leaders, anticipating the war’s aftermath. On September 22, for instance, a large caucus of Ojibwe leaders traveled to the Minnesota State Capitol to offer their support to Governor Alexander Ramsey in the fight against the Dakota. While the Ojibwe and Dakota were traditional enemies, this gesture was likely more about currying favor with the U.S. government than pursuing old rivalries. Either way, it marked the beginning of a series of negotiations that would result in new treaties and reservation boundaries between the United States and the Ojibwe of Minnesota.

While the broader context of the U.S.–Dakota War and its repercussions is wide-reaching, I want to focus on one particular moment—a letter written by Bagone-giizhig, leader of the Mississippi Bands of Ojibwe, to President Abraham Lincoln, dated June 7, 1863.

Earlier that year, on March 11, while the Dakota were being held at an internment camp at Fort Snelling, a delegation of Ojibwe leaders from the Mississippi, Winnibigoshish, and Pillager bands negotiated a treaty in Washington, D.C. Notably, Bagone-giizhig was not part of this delegation, nor were his interests represented. The resulting agreement concentrated the Mississippi and Pillager Ojibwe at Leech Lake—a location already densely populated with other Ojibwe communities. Bagone-giizhig and his supporters were deeply dissatisfied with the arrangement.

In his letter to President Lincoln, Bagone-giizhig expressed the frustration of his people: “…we are unhappy….The young men are full of discontent, and further troubles are threatened unless something can be done to satisfy them.” He described the new land as little more than “swamps or marshes” and criticized its proximity to white settlements and their growing influence. Declaring that “the late treaty never will, never can, satisfy our people,” he asked that the agreement be annulled. He admitted he could not list every objection in detail but emphasized that the treaty “was negotiated, so far as my people had anything to do with it, by those who were thoughtless, and unaccustomed to look after the interests of the nation.”

Bagone-giizhig didn’t stop with a letter—he traveled across Minnesota, rallying support for his cause. His efforts paid off. Still reeling from the U.S.–Dakota War and wary of renewed violence, U.S. officials annulled the 1863 treaty. A new treaty was negotiated that, as historian Anton Treuer notes, “provided a substantial enlargement of the Leech Lake Reservation in order to accommodate the number of people who would relocate there.” Additionally, the Mille Lacs and Sandy Lake Ojibwe were allowed to remain on their existing reservations, reportedly due to their “heretofore good conduct” during the 1862 conflict. And in a personal victory for Bagone-giizhig, the new treaty included compensation for the burning of his house by two white traders—demonstrating the political influence he had come to wield.

Negotiations between U.S. and Ojibwe leaders continued well after the U.S.–Dakota War, shaping the reservation boundaries we still recognize today. It’s clear that the war directly influenced the negotiating power of both sides, and each used that leverage to serve their own goals. Bagone-giizhig, in particular, proved himself a skilled political actor, adept at navigating a rapidly shifting landscape—as shown by his letter to the president and the lasting changes it helped bring about.

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Sources:

Anton Treuer, The Assassination of Hole in the Day (St. Paul, MN: Borealis Books, 2010).

“Annual report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, for the year 1863 [1863],” (Washington, Government Printing Office, 1864), https://search.library.wisc.edu/digital/ABQVZUYJSRAM2G83

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