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Some Guy TT
Aug 30, 2011

for twelve years youve been asking whats the 1619 project this is the 1619 project speaking im the critical race theory thats taken away your white supremacy and thus destroyed your world youve heard it said that this is an age of moral crisis and that whiteys sins are destroying the world but your chief virtue has been your willingness to read effort posts and youve demanded more effort posts at every possible disaster so here we are

despite the 1619 project apparently being the most important work of historical study in our lifetimes its paywalled behind the new york times so no one can be arsed to actually read it henceforth i will be posting it in pieces whenever i feel like it and we can either say hmmm yes very interesting or lol thats dumb or tldr i will not be using quote blocks as this will make it harder for people to quote specific sections plz do not misunderstand this as meaning that i wrote the 1619 project you can tell because i dont use caps or punctuation all right

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZbm-ISkv8k

Our democracy’s founding ideals were false when they were written. Black Americans have fought to make them true.

By Nikole Hannah-Jones
AUG. 14, 2019

My dad always flew an American flag in our front yard. The blue paint on our two-story house was perennially chipping; the fence, or the rail by the stairs, or the front door, existed in a perpetual state of disrepair, but that flag always flew pristine. Our corner lot, which had been redlined by the federal government, was along the river that divided the black side from the white side of our Iowa town. At the edge of our lawn, high on an aluminum pole, soared the flag, which my dad would replace as soon as it showed the slightest tatter.

My dad was born into a family of sharecroppers on a white plantation in Greenwood, Miss., where black people bent over cotton from can’t-see-in-the-morning to can’t-see-at-night, just as their enslaved ancestors had done not long before. The Mississippi of my dad’s youth was an apartheid state that subjugated its near-majority black population through breathtaking acts of violence. White residents in Mississippi lynched more black people than those in any other state in the country, and the white people in my dad’s home county lynched more black residents than those in any other county in Mississippi, often for such “crimes” as entering a room occupied by white women, bumping into a white girl or trying to start a sharecroppers union. My dad’s mother, like all the black people in Greenwood, could not vote, use the public library or find work other than toiling in the cotton fields or toiling in white people’s houses. So in the 1940s, she packed up her few belongings and her three small children and joined the flood of black Southerners fleeing North. She got off the Illinois Central Railroad in Waterloo, Iowa, only to have her hopes of the mythical Promised Land shattered when she learned that Jim Crow did not end at the Mason-Dixon line.

Grandmama, as we called her, found a house in a segregated black neighborhood on the city’s east side and then found the work that was considered black women’s work no matter where black women lived — cleaning white people’s houses. Dad, too, struggled to find promise in this land. In 1962, at age 17, he signed up for the Army. Like many young men, he joined in hopes of escaping poverty. But he went into the military for another reason as well, a reason common to black men: Dad hoped that if he served his country, his country might finally treat him as an American.

The Army did not end up being his way out. He was passed over for opportunities, his ambition stunted. He would be discharged under murky circumstances and then labor in a series of service jobs for the rest of his life. Like all the black men and women in my family, he believed in hard work, but like all the black men and women in my family, no matter how hard he worked, he never got ahead.

So when I was young, that flag outside our home never made sense to me. How could this black man, having seen firsthand the way his country abused black Americans, how it refused to treat us as full citizens, proudly fly its banner? I didn’t understand his patriotism. It deeply embarrassed me.

I had been taught, in school, through cultural osmosis, that the flag wasn’t really ours, that our history as a people began with enslavement and that we had contributed little to this great nation. It seemed that the closest thing black Americans could have to cultural pride was to be found in our vague connection to Africa, a place we had never been. That my dad felt so much honor in being an American felt like a marker of his degradation, his acceptance of our subordination.

Like most young people, I thought I understood so much, when in fact I understood so little. My father knew exactly what he was doing when he raised that flag. He knew that our people’s contributions to building the richest and most powerful nation in the world were indelible, that the United States simply would not exist without us.

In August 1619, just 12 years after the English settled Jamestown, Va., one year before the Puritans landed at Plymouth Rock and some 157 years before the English colonists even decided they wanted to form their own country, the Jamestown colonists bought 20 to 30 enslaved Africans from English pirates. The pirates had stolen them from a Portuguese slave ship that had forcibly taken them from what is now the country of Angola. Those men and women who came ashore on that August day were the beginning of American slavery. They were among the 12.5 million Africans who would be kidnapped from their homes and brought in chains across the Atlantic Ocean in the largest forced migration in human history until the Second World War. Almost two million did not survive the grueling journey, known as the Middle Passage.

Before the abolishment of the international slave trade, 400,000 enslaved Africans would be sold into America. Those individuals and their descendants transformed the lands to which they’d been brought into some of the most successful colonies in the British Empire. Through backbreaking labor, they cleared the land across the Southeast. They taught the colonists to grow rice. They grew and picked the cotton that at the height of slavery was the nation’s most valuable commodity, accounting for half of all American exports and 66 percent of the world’s supply. They built the plantations of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, sprawling properties that today attract thousands of visitors from across the globe captivated by the history of the world’s greatest democracy. They laid the foundations of the White House and the Capitol, even placing with their unfree hands the Statue of Freedom atop the Capitol dome. They lugged the heavy wooden tracks of the railroads that crisscrossed the South and that helped take the cotton they picked to the Northern textile mills, fueling the Industrial Revolution. They built vast fortunes for white people North and South — at one time, the second-richest man in the nation was a Rhode Island “slave trader.” Profits from black people’s stolen labor helped the young nation pay off its war debts and financed some of our most prestigious universities. It was the relentless buying, selling, insuring and financing of their bodies and the products of their labor that made Wall Street a thriving banking, insurance and trading sector and New York City the financial capital of the world.

But it would be historically inaccurate to reduce the contributions of black people to the vast material wealth created by our bondage. Black Americans have also been, and continue to be, foundational to the idea of American freedom. More than any other group in this country’s history, we have served, generation after generation, in an overlooked but vital role: It is we who have been the perfecters of this democracy.

The United States is a nation founded on both an ideal and a lie. Our Declaration of Independence, approved on July 4, 1776, proclaims that “all men are created equal” and “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights.” But the white men who drafted those words did not believe them to be true for the hundreds of thousands of black people in their midst. “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” did not apply to fully one-fifth of the country. Yet despite being violently denied the freedom and justice promised to all, black Americans believed fervently in the American creed. Through centuries of black resistance and protest, we have helped the country live up to its founding ideals. And not only for ourselves — black rights struggles paved the way for every other rights struggle, including women’s and gay rights, immigrant and disability rights.

Without the idealistic, strenuous and patriotic efforts of black Americans, our democracy today would most likely look very different — it might not be a democracy at all.

The very first person to die for this country in the American Revolution was a black man who himself was not free. Crispus Attucks was a fugitive from slavery, yet he gave his life for a new nation in which his own people would not enjoy the liberties laid out in the Declaration for another century. In every war this nation has waged since that first one, black Americans have fought — today we are the most likely of all racial groups to serve in the United States military.

My father, one of those many black Americans who answered the call, knew what it would take me years to understand: that the year 1619 is as important to the American story as 1776. That black Americans, as much as those men cast in alabaster in the nation’s capital, are this nation’s true “founding fathers.” And that no people has a greater claim to that flag than us.

In June 1776, Thomas Jefferson sat at his portable writing desk in a rented room in Philadelphia and penned these words: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” For the last 243 years, this fierce assertion of the fundamental and natural rights of humankind to freedom and self-governance has defined our global reputation as a land of liberty. As Jefferson composed his inspiring words, however, a teenage boy who would enjoy none of those rights and liberties waited nearby to serve at his master’s beck and call. His name was Robert Hemings, and he was the half brother of Jefferson’s wife, born to Martha Jefferson’s father and a woman he owned. It was common for white enslavers to keep their half-black children in slavery. Jefferson had chosen Hemings, from among about 130 enslaved people that worked on the forced-labor camp he called Monticello, to accompany him to Philadelphia and ensure his every comfort as he drafted the text making the case for a new democratic republic based on the individual rights of men.

At the time, one-fifth of the population within the 13 colonies struggled under a brutal system of slavery unlike anything that had existed in the world before. Chattel slavery was not conditional but racial. It was heritable and permanent, not temporary, meaning generations of black people were born into it and passed their enslaved status onto their children. Enslaved people were not recognized as human beings but as property that could be mortgaged, traded, bought, sold, used as collateral, given as a gift and disposed of violently. Jefferson’s fellow white colonists knew that black people were human beings, but they created a network of laws and customs, astounding for both their precision and cruelty, that ensured that enslaved people would never be treated as such. As the abolitionist William Goodell wrote in 1853, “If any thing founded on falsehood might be called a science, we might add the system of American slavery to the list of the strict sciences.”

Enslaved people could not legally marry. They were barred from learning to read and restricted from meeting privately in groups. They had no claim to their own children, who could be bought, sold and traded away from them on auction blocks alongside furniture and cattle or behind storefronts that advertised “Negroes for Sale.” Enslavers and the courts did not honor kinship ties to mothers, siblings, cousins. In most courts, they had no legal standing. Enslavers could rape or murder their property without legal consequence. Enslaved people could own nothing, will nothing and inherit nothing. They were legally tortured, including by those working for Jefferson himself. They could be worked to death, and often were, in order to produce the highest profits for the white people who owned them.

Yet in making the argument against Britain’s tyranny, one of the colonists’ favorite rhetorical devices was to claim that they were the slaves — to Britain. For this duplicity, they faced burning criticism both at home and abroad. As Samuel Johnson, an English writer and Tory opposed to American independence, quipped, “How is it that we hear the loudest yelps for liberty among the drivers of Negroes?”

Conveniently left out of our founding mythology is the fact that one of the primary reasons some of the colonists decided to declare their independence from Britain was because they wanted to protect the institution of slavery. By 1776, Britain had grown deeply conflicted over its role in the barbaric institution that had reshaped the Western Hemisphere. In London, there were growing calls to abolish the slave trade. This would have upended the economy of the colonies, in both the North and the South. The wealth and prominence that allowed Jefferson, at just 33, and the other founding fathers to believe they could successfully break off from one of the mightiest empires in the world came from the dizzying profits generated by chattel slavery. In other words, we may never have revolted against Britain if some of the founders had not understood that slavery empowered them to do so; nor if they had not believed that independence was required in order to ensure that slavery would continue. It is not incidental that 10 of this nation’s first 12 presidents were enslavers, and some might argue that this nation was founded not as a democracy but as a slavocracy.

Jefferson and the other founders were keenly aware of this hypocrisy. And so in Jefferson’s original draft of the Declaration of Independence, he tried to argue that it wasn’t the colonists’ fault. Instead, he blamed the king of England for forcing the institution of slavery on the unwilling colonists and called the trafficking in human beings a crime. Yet neither Jefferson nor most of the founders intended to abolish slavery, and in the end, they struck the passage.

There is no mention of slavery in the final Declaration of Independence. Similarly, 11 years later, when it came time to draft the Constitution, the framers carefully constructed a document that preserved and protected slavery without ever using the word. In the texts in which they were making the case for freedom to the world, they did not want to explicitly enshrine their hypocrisy, so they sought to hide it. The Constitution contains 84 clauses. Six deal directly with the enslaved and their enslavement, as the historian David Waldstreicher has written, and five more hold implications for slavery. The Constitution protected the “property” of those who enslaved black people, prohibited the federal government from intervening to end the importation of enslaved Africans for a term of 20 years, allowed Congress to mobilize the militia to put down insurrections by the enslaved and forced states that had outlawed slavery to turn over enslaved people who had run away seeking refuge. Like many others, the writer and abolitionist Samuel Bryan called out the deceit, saying of the Constitution, “The words are dark and ambiguous; such as no plain man of common sense would have used, [and] are evidently chosen to conceal from Europe, that in this enlightened country, the practice of slavery has its advocates among men in the highest stations.”

With independence, the founding fathers could no longer blame slavery on Britain. The sin became this nation’s own, and so, too, the need to cleanse it. The shameful paradox of continuing chattel slavery in a nation founded on individual freedom, scholars today assert, led to a hardening of the racial caste system. This ideology, reinforced not just by laws but by racist science and literature, maintained that black people were subhuman, a belief that allowed white Americans to live with their betrayal. By the early 1800s, according to the legal historians Leland B. Ware, Robert J. Cottrol and Raymond T. Diamond, white Americans, whether they engaged in slavery or not, “had a considerable psychological as well as economic investment in the doctrine of black inferiority.” While liberty was the inalienable right of the people who would be considered white, enslavement and subjugation became the natural station of people who had any discernible drop of “black” blood.

The Supreme Court enshrined this thinking in the law in its 1857 Dred Scott decision, ruling that black people, whether enslaved or free, came from a “slave” race. This made them inferior to white people and, therefore, incompatible with American democracy. Democracy was for citizens, and the “Negro race,” the court ruled, was “a separate class of persons,” which the founders had “not regarded as a portion of the people or citizens of the Government” and had “no rights which a white man was bound to respect.” This belief, that black people were not merely enslaved but were a slave race, became the root of the endemic racism that we still cannot purge from this nation to this day. If black people could not ever be citizens, if they were a caste apart from all other humans, then they did not require the rights bestowed by the Constitution, and the “we” in the “We the People” was not a lie.

On Aug. 14, 1862, a mere five years after the nation’s highest courts declared that no black person could be an American citizen, President Abraham Lincoln called a group of five esteemed free black men to the White House for a meeting. It was one of the few times that black people had ever been invited to the White House as guests. The Civil War had been raging for more than a year, and black abolitionists, who had been increasingly pressuring Lincoln to end slavery, must have felt a sense of great anticipation and pride.

The war was not going well for Lincoln. Britain was contemplating whether to intervene on the Confederacy’s behalf, and Lincoln, unable to draw enough new white volunteers for the war, was forced to reconsider his opposition to allowing black Americans to fight for their own liberation. The president was weighing a proclamation that threatened to emancipate all enslaved people in the states that had seceded from the Union if the states did not end the rebellion. The proclamation would also allow the formerly enslaved to join the Union army and fight against their former “masters.” But Lincoln worried about what the consequences of this radical step would be. Like many white Americans, he opposed slavery as a cruel system at odds with American ideals, but he also opposed black equality. He believed that free black people were a “troublesome presence” incompatible with a democracy intended only for white people. “Free them, and make them politically and socially our equals?” he had said four years earlier. “My own feelings will not admit of this; and if mine would, we well know that those of the great mass of white people will not.”

That August day, as the men arrived at the White House, they were greeted by the towering Lincoln and a man named James Mitchell, who eight days before had been given the title of a newly created position called the commissioner of emigration. This was to be his first assignment. After exchanging a few niceties, Lincoln got right to it. He informed his guests that he had gotten Congress to appropriate funds to ship black people, once freed, to another country.

“Why should they leave this country? This is, perhaps, the first question for proper consideration,” Lincoln told them. “You and we are different races. ... Your race suffer very greatly, many of them, by living among us, while ours suffer from your presence. In a word, we suffer on each side.”

You can imagine the heavy silence in that room, as the weight of what the president said momentarily stole the breath of these five black men. It was 243 years to the month since the first of their ancestors had arrived on these shores, before Lincoln’s family, long before most of the white people insisting that this was not their country. The Union had not entered the war to end slavery but to keep the South from splitting off, yet black men had signed up to fight. Enslaved people were fleeing their forced-labor camps, which we like to call plantations, trying to join the effort, serving as spies, sabotaging confederates, taking up arms for his cause as well as their own. And now Lincoln was blaming them for the war. “Although many men engaged on either side do not care for you one way or the other ... without the institution of slavery and the colored race as a basis, the war could not have an existence,” the president told them. “It is better for us both, therefore, to be separated.”

As Lincoln closed the remarks, Edward Thomas, the delegation’s chairman, informed the president, perhaps curtly, that they would consult on his proposition. “Take your full time,” Lincoln said. “No hurry at all.”

Nearly three years after that White House meeting, Gen. Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox. By summer, the Civil War was over, and four million black Americans were suddenly free. Contrary to Lincoln’s view, most were not inclined to leave, agreeing with the sentiment of a resolution against black colonization put forward at a convention of black leaders in New York some decades before: “This is our home, and this our country. Beneath its sod lie the bones of our fathers. ... Here we were born, and here we will die.”

That the formerly enslaved did not take up Lincoln’s offer to abandon these lands is an astounding testament to their belief in this nation’s founding ideals. As W.E.B. Du Bois wrote, “Few men ever worshiped Freedom with half such unquestioning faith as did the American Negro for two centuries.” Black Americans had long called for universal equality and believed, as the abolitionist Martin Delany said, “that God has made of one blood all the nations that dwell on the face of the earth.” Liberated by war, then, they did not seek vengeance on their oppressors as Lincoln and so many other white Americans feared. They did the opposite. During this nation’s brief period of Reconstruction, from 1865 to 1877, formerly enslaved people zealously engaged with the democratic process. With federal troops tempering widespread white violence, black Southerners started branches of the Equal Rights League — one of the nation’s first human rights organizations — to fight discrimination and organize voters; they headed in droves to the polls, where they placed other formerly enslaved people into seats that their enslavers had once held. The South, for the first time in the history of this country, began to resemble a democracy, with black Americans elected to local, state and federal offices. Some 16 black men served in Congress — including Hiram Revels of Mississippi, who became the first black man elected to the Senate. (Demonstrating just how brief this period would be, Revels, along with Blanche Bruce, would go from being the first black man elected to the last for nearly a hundred years, until Edward Brooke of Massachusetts took office in 1967.) More than 600 black men served in Southern state legislatures and hundreds more in local positions.

These black officials joined with white Republicans, some of whom came down from the North, to write the most egalitarian state constitutions the South had ever seen. They helped pass more equitable tax legislation and laws that prohibited discrimination in public transportation, accommodation and housing. Perhaps their biggest achievement was the establishment of that most democratic of American institutions: the public school. Public education effectively did not exist in the South before Reconstruction. The white elite sent their children to private schools, while poor white children went without an education. But newly freed black people, who had been prohibited from learning to read and write during slavery, were desperate for an education. So black legislators successfully pushed for a universal, state-funded system of schools — not just for their own children but for white children, too. Black legislators also helped pass the first compulsory education laws in the region. Southern children, black and white, were now required to attend schools like their Northern counterparts. Just five years into Reconstruction, every Southern state had enshrined the right to a public education for all children into its constitution. In some states, like Louisiana and South Carolina, small numbers of black and white children, briefly, attended schools together.

Led by black activists and a Republican Party pushed left by the blatant recalcitrance of white Southerners, the years directly after slavery saw the greatest expansion of human and civil rights this nation would ever see. In 1865, Congress passed the 13th Amendment, making the United States one of the last nations in the Americas to outlaw slavery. The following year, black Americans, exerting their new political power, pushed white legislators to pass the Civil Rights Act, the nation’s first such law and one of the most expansive pieces of civil rights legislation Congress has ever passed. It codified black American citizenship for the first time, prohibited housing discrimination and gave all Americans the right to buy and inherit property, make and enforce contracts and seek redress from courts. In 1868, Congress ratified the 14th Amendment, ensuring citizenship to any person born in the United States. Today, thanks to this amendment, every child born here to a European, Asian, African, Latin American or Middle Eastern immigrant gains automatic citizenship. The 14th Amendment also, for the first time, constitutionally guaranteed equal protection under the law. Ever since, nearly all other marginalized groups have used the 14th Amendment in their fights for equality (including the recent successful arguments before the Supreme Court on behalf of same-sex marriage). Finally, in 1870, Congress passed the 15th Amendment, guaranteeing the most critical aspect of democracy and citizenship — the right to vote — to all men regardless of “race, color, or previous condition of servitude.”

For this fleeting moment known as Reconstruction, the majority in Congress seemed to embrace the idea that out of the ashes of the Civil War, we could create the multiracial democracy that black Americans envisioned even if our founding fathers did not.

But it would not last.

Anti-black racism runs in the very DNA of this country, as does the belief, so well articulated by Lincoln, that black people are the obstacle to national unity. The many gains of Reconstruction were met with fierce white resistance throughout the South, including unthinkable violence against the formerly enslaved, wide-scale voter suppression, electoral fraud and even, in some extreme cases, the overthrow of democratically elected biracial governments. Faced with this unrest, the federal government decided that black people were the cause of the problem and that for unity’s sake, it would leave the white South to its own devices. In 1877, President Rutherford B. Hayes, in order to secure a compromise with Southern Democrats that would grant him the presidency in a contested election, agreed to pull federal troops from the South. With the troops gone, white Southerners quickly went about eradicating the gains of Reconstruction. The systemic white suppression of black life was so severe that this period between the 1880s and the 1920 and ’30s became known as the Great Nadir, or the second slavery. Democracy would not return to the South for nearly a century.

White Southerners of all economic classes, on the other hand, thanks in significant part to the progressive policies and laws black people had championed, experienced substantial improvement in their lives even as they forced black people back into a quasi slavery. As Waters McIntosh, who had been enslaved in South Carolina, lamented, “It was the poor white man who was freed by the war, not the Negroes.”

Georgia pines flew past the windows of the Greyhound bus carrying Isaac Woodard home to Winnsboro, S.C. After serving four years in the Army in World War II, where Woodard had earned a battle star, he was given an honorable discharge earlier that day at Camp Gordon and was headed home to meet his wife. When the bus stopped at a small drugstore an hour outside Atlanta, Woodard got into a brief argument with the white driver after asking if he could use the restroom. About half an hour later, the driver stopped again and told Woodard to get off the bus. Crisp in his uniform, Woodard stepped from the stairs and saw the police waiting for him. Before he could speak, one of the officers struck him in his head with a billy club, beating him so badly that he fell unconscious. The blows to Woodard’s head were so severe that when he woke in a jail cell the next day, he could not see. The beating occurred just 4½ hours after his military discharge. At 26, Woodard would never see again.

There was nothing unusual about Woodard’s horrific maiming. It was part of a wave of systemic violence deployed against black Americans after Reconstruction, in both the North and the South. As the egalitarian spirit of post-Civil War America evaporated under the desire for national reunification, black Americans, simply by existing, served as a problematic reminder of this nation’s failings. White America dealt with this inconvenience by constructing a savagely enforced system of racial apartheid that excluded black people almost entirely from mainstream American life — a system so grotesque that Nazi Germany would later take inspiration from it for its own racist policies.

Despite the guarantees of equality in the 14th Amendment, the Supreme Court’s landmark Plessy v. Ferguson decision in 1896 declared that the racial segregation of black Americans was constitutional. With the blessing of the nation’s highest court and no federal will to vindicate black rights, starting in the late 1800s, Southern states passed a series of laws and codes meant to make slavery’s racial caste system permanent by denying black people political power, social equality and basic dignity. They passed literacy tests to keep black people from voting and created all-white primaries for elections. Black people were prohibited from serving on juries or testifying in court against a white person. South Carolina prohibited white and black textile workers from using the same doors. Oklahoma forced phone companies to segregate phone booths. Memphis had separate parking spaces for black and white drivers. Baltimore passed an ordinance outlawing black people from moving onto a block more than half white and white people from moving onto a block more than half black. Georgia made it illegal for black and white people to be buried next to one another in the same cemetery. Alabama barred black people from using public libraries that their own tax dollars were paying for. Black people were expected to jump off the sidewalk to let white people pass and call all white people by an honorific, though they received none no matter how old they were. In the North, white politicians implemented policies that segregated black people into slum neighborhoods and into inferior all-black schools, operated whites-only public pools and held white and “colored” days at the country fair, and white businesses regularly denied black people service, placing “Whites Only” signs in their windows. States like California joined Southern states in barring black people from marrying white people, while local school boards in Illinois and New Jersey mandated segregated schools for black and white children.

This caste system was maintained through wanton racial terrorism. And black veterans like Woodard, especially those with the audacity to wear their uniform, had since the Civil War been the target of a particular violence. This intensified during the two world wars because white people understood that once black men had gone abroad and experienced life outside the suffocating racial oppression of America, they were unlikely to quietly return to their subjugation at home. As Senator James K. Vardaman of Mississippi said on the Senate floor during World War I, black servicemen returning to the South would “inevitably lead to disaster.” Giving a black man “military airs” and sending him to defend the flag would bring him “to the conclusion that his political rights must be respected.”

Many white Americans saw black men in the uniforms of America’s armed services not as patriotic but as exhibiting a dangerous pride. Hundreds of black veterans were beaten, maimed, shot and lynched. We like to call those who lived during World War II the Greatest Generation, but that allows us to ignore the fact that many of this generation fought for democracy abroad while brutally suppressing democracy for millions of American citizens. During the height of racial terror in this country, black Americans were not merely killed but castrated, burned alive and dismembered with their body parts displayed in storefronts. This violence was meant to terrify and control black people, but perhaps just as important, it served as a psychological balm for white supremacy: You would not treat human beings this way. The extremity of the violence was a symptom of the psychological mechanism necessary to absolve white Americans of their country’s original sin. To answer the question of how they could prize liberty abroad while simultaneously denying liberty to an entire race back home, white Americans resorted to the same racist ideology that Jefferson and the framers had used at the nation’s founding.

This ideology — that black people belonged to an inferior, subhuman race — did not simply disappear once slavery ended. If the formerly enslaved and their descendants became educated, if we thrived in the jobs white people did, if we excelled in the sciences and arts, then the entire justification for how this nation allowed slavery would collapse. Free black people posed a danger to the country’s idea of itself as exceptional; we held up the mirror in which the nation preferred not to peer. And so the inhumanity visited on black people by every generation of white America justified the inhumanity of the past.

Just as white Americans feared, World War II ignited what became black Americans’ second sustained effort to make democracy real. As the editorial board of the black newspaper The Pittsburgh Courier wrote, “We wage a two-pronged attack against our enslavers at home and those abroad who will enslave us.” Woodard’s blinding is largely seen as one of the catalysts for the decades-long rebellion we have come to call the civil rights movement. But it is useful to pause and remember that this was the second mass movement for black civil rights, the first being Reconstruction. As the centennial of slavery’s end neared, black people were still seeking the rights they had fought for and won after the Civil War: the right to be treated equally by public institutions, which was guaranteed in 1866 with the Civil Rights Act; the right to be treated as full citizens before the law, which was guaranteed in 1868 by the 14th Amendment; and the right to vote, which was guaranteed in 1870 by the 15th Amendment. In response to black demands for these rights, white Americans strung them from trees, beat them and dumped their bodies in muddy rivers, assassinated them in their front yards, firebombed them on buses, mauled them with dogs, peeled back their skin with fire hoses and murdered their children with explosives set off inside a church.

For the most part, black Americans fought back alone. Yet we never fought only for ourselves. The bloody freedom struggles of the civil rights movement laid the foundation for every other modern rights struggle. This nation’s white founders set up a decidedly undemocratic Constitution that excluded women, Native Americans and black people, and did not provide the vote or equality for most Americans. But the laws born out of black resistance guarantee the franchise for all and ban discrimination based not just on race but on gender, nationality, religion and ability. It was the civil rights movement that led to the passage of the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which upended the racist immigration quota system intended to keep this country white. Because of black Americans, black and brown immigrants from across the globe are able to come to the United States and live in a country in which legal discrimination is no longer allowed. It is a truly American irony that some Asian-Americans, among the groups able to immigrate to the United States because of the black civil rights struggle, are now suing universities to end programs designed to help the descendants of the enslaved.

No one cherishes freedom more than those who have not had it. And to this day, black Americans, more than any other group, embrace the democratic ideals of a common good. We are the most likely to support programs like universal health care and a higher minimum wage, and to oppose programs that harm the most vulnerable. For instance, black Americans suffer the most from violent crime, yet we are the most opposed to capital punishment. Our unemployment rate is nearly twice that of white Americans, yet we are still the most likely of all groups to say this nation should take in refugees.

The truth is that as much democracy as this nation has today, it has been borne on the backs of black resistance. Our founding fathers may not have actually believed in the ideals they espoused, but black people did. As one scholar, Joe R. Feagin, put it, “Enslaved African-Americans have been among the foremost freedom-fighters this country has produced.” For generations, we have believed in this country with a faith it did not deserve. Black people have seen the worst of America, yet, somehow, we still believe in its best.

They say our people were born on the water.

When it occurred, no one can say for certain. Perhaps it was in the second week, or the third, but surely by the fourth, when they had not seen their land or any land for so many days that they lost count. It was after fear had turned to despair, and despair to resignation, and resignation to an abiding understanding. The teal eternity of the Atlantic Ocean had severed them so completely from what had once been their home that it was as if nothing had ever existed before, as if everything and everyone they cherished had simply vanished from the earth. They were no longer Mbundu or Akan or Fulani. These men and women from many different nations, all shackled together in the suffocating hull of the ship, they were one people now.

Just a few months earlier, they had families, and farms, and lives and dreams. They were free. They had names, of course, but their enslavers did not bother to record them. They had been made black by those people who believed that they were white, and where they were heading, black equaled “slave,” and slavery in America required turning human beings into property by stripping them of every element that made them individuals. This process was called seasoning, in which people stolen from western and central Africa were forced, often through torture, to stop speaking their native tongues and practicing their native religions.

But as the sociologist Glenn Bracey wrote, “Out of the ashes of white denigration, we gave birth to ourselves.” For as much as white people tried to pretend, black people were not chattel. And so the process of seasoning, instead of erasing identity, served an opposite purpose: In the void, we forged a new culture all our own.

Today, our very manner of speaking recalls the Creole languages that enslaved people innovated in order to communicate both with Africans speaking various dialects and the English-speaking people who enslaved them. Our style of dress, the extra flair, stems back to the desires of enslaved people — shorn of all individuality — to exert their own identity. Enslaved people would wear their hat in a jaunty manner or knot their head scarves intricately. Today’s avant-garde nature of black hairstyles and fashion displays a vibrant reflection of enslaved people’s determination to feel fully human through self-expression. The improvisational quality of black art and music comes from a culture that because of constant disruption could not cling to convention. Black naming practices, so often impugned by mainstream society, are themselves an act of resistance. Our last names belong to the white people who once owned us. That is why the insistence of many black Americans, particularly those most marginalized, to give our children names that we create, that are neither European nor from Africa, a place we have never been, is an act of self-determination. When the world listens to quintessential American music, it is our voice they hear. The sorrow songs we sang in the fields to soothe our physical pain and find hope in a freedom we did not expect to know until we died became American gospel. Amid the devastating violence and poverty of the Mississippi Delta, we birthed jazz and blues. And it was in the deeply impoverished and segregated neighborhoods where white Americans forced the descendants of the enslaved to live that teenagers too poor to buy instruments used old records to create a new music known as hip-hop.

Our speech and fashion and the drum of our music echoes Africa but is not African. Out of our unique isolation, both from our native cultures and from white America, we forged this nation’s most significant original culture. In turn, “mainstream” society has coveted our style, our slang and our song, seeking to appropriate the one truly American culture as its own. As Langston Hughes wrote in 1926, “They’ll see how beautiful I am/And be ashamed —/I, too, am America.”

For centuries, white Americans have been trying to solve the “Negro problem.” They have dedicated thousands of pages to this endeavor. It is common, still, to point to rates of black poverty, out-of-wedlock births, crime and college attendance, as if these conditions in a country built on a racial caste system are not utterly predictable. But crucially, you cannot view those statistics while ignoring another: that black people were enslaved here longer than we have been free.

At 43, I am part of the first generation of black Americans in the history of the United States to be born into a society in which black people had full rights of citizenship. Black people suffered under slavery for 250 years; we have been legally “free” for just 50. Yet in that briefest of spans, despite continuing to face rampant discrimination, and despite there never having been a genuine effort to redress the wrongs of slavery and the century of racial apartheid that followed, black Americans have made astounding progress, not only for ourselves but also for all Americans.

What if America understood, finally, in this 400th year, that we have never been the problem but the solution?

When I was a child — I must have been in fifth or sixth grade — a teacher gave our class an assignment intended to celebrate the diversity of the great American melting pot. She instructed each of us to write a short report on our ancestral land and then draw that nation’s flag. As she turned to write the assignment on the board, the other black girl in class locked eyes with me. Slavery had erased any connection we had to an African country, and even if we tried to claim the whole continent, there was no “African” flag. It was hard enough being one of two black kids in the class, and this assignment would just be another reminder of the distance between the white kids and us. In the end, I walked over to the globe near my teacher’s desk, picked a random African country and claimed it as my own.

I wish, now, that I could go back to the younger me and tell her that her people’s ancestry started here, on these lands, and to boldly, proudly, draw the stars and those stripes of the American flag.

We were told once, by virtue of our bondage, that we could never be American. But it was by virtue of our bondage that we became the most American of all.

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Yadoppsi
May 10, 2009
I enjoyed Adolph Reed's takedown of the 1619 project from a materialist perspective against Jones' idealistic conception of history. Anyone willing to share simular pieces?

Syncopation
Feb 21, 2020

Yadoppsi posted:

I enjoyed Adolph Reed's takedown of the 1619 project from a materialist perspective against Jones' idealistic conception of history. Anyone willing to share simular pieces?

can you please link this? i really want to see any perspective on this that isnt an insane right wing person melting down at "racism is bad" lol

Cerebral Bore
Apr 21, 2010


Fun Shoe
i only skimmed that poo poo, but it sounds like they're making a shittier version of losurdo's argument in liberalism: a counter history, except instead of deriving the impetus for slavery from the material necessities of liberal capitalism they just throw their hands up and say that racism just happened because it happened

Bideo James
Oct 21, 2020

you'll have to ask someone else about the size of her cans
Video games taught me how to murder

John Charity Spring
Nov 4, 2009

SCREEEEE

Cerebral Bore posted:

i only skimmed that poo poo, but it sounds like they're making a shittier version of losurdo's argument in liberalism: a counter history, except instead of deriving the impetus for slavery from the material necessities of liberal capitalism they just throw their hands up and say that racism just happened because it happened

and that this makes them the Real Americans because they're extremely high on liberalism

Some Guy TT
Aug 30, 2011

i thought this bit was interesting

quote:

Our founding fathers may not have actually believed in the ideals they espoused, but black people did. As one scholar, Joe R. Feagin, put it, “Enslaved African-Americans have been among the foremost freedom-fighters this country has produced.” For generations, we have believed in this country with a faith it did not deserve. Black people have seen the worst of America, yet, somehow, we still believe in its best.

because id seen liberals engage in founding father worship and then jump straight to saying the 1619 project was the coolest thing ever without skipping a beat and i always thought that was a contradiction but nope right here in very first essay jones actually claims that while the founding fathers were liars the noble black people of this country believed in these lies so hard they made them real like pinocchio becoming a real boy despite the fact that geppetto actually built him to harass gypsies

this is of course completely idiotic huge swaths of african american social movements from marcus garvey to malcolm x were premised on the idea that this country was built on a lie and others only believed in these ideals to the extent they thought it could be used to give them a place in the political system i also couldnt help but notice that despite fetishizing african american freedom fighters jones doesnt actually describe any of them all her black heroes here were explicitly working within the system only to be betrayed by white people thats a hell of a slant but she needs it to justify this doozy of a closer

quote:

I wish, now, that I could go back to the younger me and tell her that her people’s ancestry started here, on these lands, and to boldly, proudly, draw the stars and those stripes of the American flag.

We were told once, by virtue of our bondage, that we could never be American. But it was by virtue of our bondage that we became the most American of all.

this essay is both terrible yet also tremendous content its like significantly worse than coates whose historical observations at least manage to avoid naked idealism i can see why talking jones up has become a much bigger thing than the 1619 project itself

Tiler Kiwi
Feb 26, 2011
tried to read the whole thing but it got pretty repetitive in a bad way. I get they're offering a particular perspective but there's a lot of squirrely methodology in describing particular events, mainly by omitting details to change context that I really can't respect, even as a propaganda effort. People will pretty trivially pick it apart as a misinterpretation and then you're just assisting in the sabotage of your own thesis. It also omitted the experience of groups like native americans and women in a Lets Explain Everything narrative instead of focusing more on the specifically black american experience, and then not even really doing that justice; like not mentioning the issue of colonists wanting to stomp all over native american territory (and expand slavery into new areas since the slave plantation was environmentally destructive and had to be exported to new lands) as a major motivator for the American Revolution while over emphasizing the, afaik, fairly minor concern over british abolitionism seems done in the service of maintaining some weird "this nation was founded on racism but its My Nation" style of saccharinely patriotic tone. Like, its not being focused in scope, its being rather reductionist and the sentimentalism over America's Democratic Birth just comes across as demented when you push it while also going "yeah every single thing about america was founded all on black misery".

like, just reading the wiki article on Christopher Columbus gives a stronger gut punch towards the whitewashed myth of america's founding than anything in this editorial.

just looking up a few details, some historians had a problem with this too, i think this Atlantic article is from some of them https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/01/1619-project-new-york-times-wilentz/605152/

Tiler Kiwi has issued a correction as of 12:27 on Jun 25, 2021

Some Guy TT
Aug 30, 2011

its utterly wild to think that writing this article is what has turned jones into this meritocratic hero whos being denied tenure because of racism i mean just look at this poo poo

quote:

For the most part, black Americans fought back alone. Yet we never fought only for ourselves. The bloody freedom struggles of the civil rights movement laid the foundation for every other modern rights struggle. This nation’s white founders set up a decidedly undemocratic Constitution that excluded women, Native Americans and black people, and did not provide the vote or equality for most Americans. But the laws born out of black resistance guarantee the franchise for all and ban discrimination based not just on race but on gender, nationality, religion and ability. It was the civil rights movement that led to the passage of the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which upended the racist immigration quota system intended to keep this country white. Because of black Americans, black and brown immigrants from across the globe are able to come to the United States and live in a country in which legal discrimination is no longer allowed. It is a truly American irony that some Asian-Americans, among the groups able to immigrate to the United States because of the black civil rights struggle, are now suing universities to end programs designed to help the descendants of the enslaved.

i kind of figured that tweet with jones talking about the cherokee owning slaves was just badly phrased posting but no she actually honest to god believes that black people invented civil rights and doesnt seem to understand that all these struggles were going on at the same time and influenced each other

Cool Ghost
Apr 13, 2012

MORE YOU SWEAT、
LESS YOU BLEED。
MORE YOU WEEP、
LESS GAME OVERS。
...OVER

Judge Dredd Scott posted:

can you please link this? i really want to see any perspective on this that isnt an insane right wing person melting down at "racism is bad" lol

I'm not the OP, but they might be talking about this interview with the wsws; I was reading this article of Reed's recently, where he gives a good take on neoliberal forms of anti-racism.

Syncopation
Feb 21, 2020

Cool Ghost posted:

I'm not the OP, but they might be talking about this interview with the wsws; I was reading this article of Reed's recently, where he gives a good take on neoliberal forms of anti-racism.

thank you!

Tiler Kiwi
Feb 26, 2011

Some Guy TT posted:

its utterly wild to think that writing this article is what has turned jones into this meritocratic hero whos being denied tenure because of racism i mean just look at this poo poo

i kind of figured that tweet with jones talking about the cherokee owning slaves was just badly phrased posting but no she actually honest to god believes that black people invented civil rights and doesnt seem to understand that all these struggles were going on at the same time and influenced each other

it just makes me shake my head, because, i just dont really get why someone would keep up such a mindset. it just seems like a lot of goddamn effort to keep up. its a whole different style of offensive revisionism than im used to, lol

e: maybe its a kind of attempt to rehabilitate the concept of 'America' as a idealized myth by reframing it as the product of black americans and thus sacred in that regard, without having to maintain the more overtly racist lies in the common founding mythologies. hugging the flag as an antiracist action, i guess?

Tiler Kiwi has issued a correction as of 12:31 on Jun 25, 2021

Dreylad
Jun 19, 2001

Yadoppsi posted:

I enjoyed Adolph Reed's takedown of the 1619 project from a materialist perspective against Jones' idealistic conception of history. Anyone willing to share simular pieces?

Matt Karp's essay is really, really good.

I hope & pray some CSPAMers will actually read it and discuss because I think it focuses on the right things (how liberals & conservatives now conceptualize history), and why we should reject this, rather than just spend time nitpicking the 1776 and 1619 projects to death for their Inaccuracies.

here is a taste

quote:

The political limits of origins-centered history are just as striking. The theorist Wendy Brown once observed that at the end of the twentieth century liberals and Marxists alike had begun to lose faith in the future. Collectively, she wrote, left-leaning intellectuals had come to reject “a historiography bound to a notion of progress,” but had “coined no political substitute for progressive understandings of where we have come from and where we are going.” This predicament, Brown argued, could only be understood as a kind of trauma, an “ungrievable loss.” On the liberal left, it expressed itself in a new “moralizing discourse” that surrendered the promise of universal emancipation, while replacing a fight for the future with an intense focus on the past. The defining feature of this line of thought, she wrote, was an effort to hold “history responsible, even morally culpable, at the same time as it evinces a disbelief in history as a teleological force.”

Today’s historicism is a fulfillment of that discourse, having migrated from the margins of academia to the heart of the liberal establishment. Progress is dead; the future cannot be believed; all we have left is the past, which must therefore be held responsible for the atrocities of the present. “In order to understand the brutality of American capitalism,” one essay in the 1619 Project avers, “you have to start on the plantation.” Not with Goldman Sachs or Shell Oil, the behemoths of the contemporary order, but with the slaveholders of the seventeenth century. Such a critique of capitalism quickly becomes a prisoner of its own heredity. A more creative historical politics would move in the opposite direction, recognizing that the power of American capitalism does not reside in a genetic code written four hundred years ago. What would it mean, when we look at U.S. history, to follow William James in seeking the fruits, not the roots?

An older tradition of left-wing American politics had much less trouble with this kind of historical thinking. Frederick Douglass plays little part in the 1619 Project, but he knew better than most that historical narratives matter in political struggles: they shape our sense of the terrain under our feet and the horizon in front of us; they frame our vision of what is possible. Douglass’s famous speech about the Fourth of July came at a low ebb of the abolitionist movement, just after the Compromise of 1850, which included the Fugitive Slave Act, appeared to remove the question of slavery from national politics for good. That made it all the more important for him to build an argument from history, drawing on the experience of the Revolution to insist that the United States belonged not to “the timid and the prudent,” but to insurgents who “preferred revolution to peaceful submission to bondage.” Douglass’s fight against antebellum timidity took courage and purpose from an understanding of history in which radical change was possible.

Dreylad has issued a correction as of 12:41 on Jun 25, 2021

Dreylad
Jun 19, 2001

Judge Dredd Scott posted:

can you please link this? i really want to see any perspective on this that isnt an insane right wing person melting down at "racism is bad" lol

Here's an interview with Michael Brooks where he talks about it

Dreylad has issued a correction as of 12:47 on Jun 25, 2021

Tiler Kiwi
Feb 26, 2011

Dreylad posted:

Matt Karp's essay is really, really good.

I hope & pray some CSPAMers will actually read it and discuss because I think it focuses on the right things (how liberals & conservatives now conceptualize history), and why we should reject this, rather than just spend time nitpicking the 1776 and 1619 projects to death for their Inaccuracies.

here is a taste

im reading thru it. this bit leapt out at me.

quote:

The goal here is not to develop an alternative right-wing vision of U.S. history, but simply to mock the libs using their own language: conservatism, to update Lionel Trilling, as irritable mental gestures that seek to resemble jokes.

ever_expanding_thunk_face.gif

e: "taking x literally but not seriously" is also something i may have seen, in a more local environment

Tiler Kiwi has issued a correction as of 12:47 on Jun 25, 2021

Eason the Fifth
Apr 9, 2020
academics are the loving worst

Tiler Kiwi
Feb 26, 2011

quote:

"The dominant images here are biblical and biological: slavery as America’s “original sin”; racism as part of “America’s DNA.” (The 1619 Project contains no fewer than seven such references.) These marks are indelible, and they stem from birth. The existence of slavery and racism means that America has been Stamped from the Beginning, as Kendi titled his first book, ironically borrowing a phrase from Jefferson Davis. “Just as DNA is the code of instructions for cell development,” writes Wilkerson, “caste is the operating system for economic, political, and social interaction in the United States from the time of its gestation.” From happy cures and bending arcs to tainted natures and embedded genetic codes, the metaphorical distance between the old liberal history and the new dispensation is immense."

theres something about that dna allegory quote in particular that i find... strange. its not just that its a full of poo poo dumb metaphor, its just this particular view of history. is this that 'idealism' thing ive heard so much about lately?? its wrong in a way that i cant really eloquently describe what kind of wrongness it is. its that strange sort of sense of... over sentimentality that struck me in the essay in the OP. i dont really have a great way to describe it at all, but something about it really tilts me.

e: i guess this sort of hits on it and some other things ive said

quote:

The result is a kind of funhouse mirror of American exceptionalism, in which many of the familiar heroes—from Jefferson to Lincoln—become villains, but the setting is essentially the same. Likewise, as the political scientist Adolph Reed Jr. has argued, the new historicism either neglects the question of economic class or subordinates it to the politics of racism—producing a reductive and strangely motionless version of the past that the historian James Oakes calls “racial consensus history.” And as the professor Harvey Neptune has pointed out, nearly all of these authors offer an account of race that tends to naturalize rather than historicize its emergence as an ideological category, ignoring more critical work on the production of racism by foundational scholars such as Barbara Fields and Nell Painter.

e2: yeah the more i read the more it describes whats so wrong headed about it. "This is a perverse fantasy, Foucault believed. Actual historical origins were neither beautiful nor ultimately very significant."

Tiler Kiwi has issued a correction as of 13:14 on Jun 25, 2021

Dreylad
Jun 19, 2001

Tiler Kiwi posted:

theres something about that dna allegory quote in particular that i find... strange. its not just that its a full of poo poo dumb metaphor, its just this particular view of history. is this that 'idealism' thing ive heard so much about lately?? its wrong in a way that i cant really eloquently describe what kind of wrongness it is. its that strange sort of sense of... over sentimentality that struck me in the essay in the OP. i dont really have a great way to describe it at all, but something about it really tilts me.

it's a kind of essentialism, maybe historical essentialism? basically the idea that things are immutable and unchangeable that echoes the attitude Wendy Brown was writing about in the 1990s that Karp mentions and also the era of capitalist realism Mark Fisher describes that we all inhabit

Tiler Kiwi
Feb 26, 2011

Dreylad posted:

it's a kind of essentialism, maybe historical essentialism? basically the idea that things are immutable and unchangeable that echoes the attitude Wendy Brown was writing about in the 1990s that Karp mentions and also the era of capitalist realism Mark Fisher describes that we all inhabit

I'm also getting the sentiment that its really not historiography, but a kind of mythologizing; like it flips the struggle of black civil rights from demanding a new order by human will, into a fundamentally conservative approach where black Americans were endowed with the unique power to hoist up and preserve the Real America against an ever present racism phantom. Its really wasn't surprising to hear that the author of the 1619 project came out against bernie, since this view of history pretty much locks out the idea of changing the nature of America or deviating from how-its-meant-to-be. It's really weird and doesn't make much sense but I think that's just the problem of me trying to take it seriously and not just literally, lol. Like it definitely has that "there is no future, just a past to be reclaimed" essence that the whole capitalist realist perspective is compatible with, to my understanding of it.

vyelkin
Jan 2, 2011

Tiler Kiwi posted:

I'm also getting the sentiment that its really not historiography, but a kind of mythologizing; like it flips the struggle of black civil rights from demanding a new order by human will, into a fundamentally conservative approach where black Americans were endowed with the unique power to hoist up and preserve the Real America against an ever present racism phantom. Its really wasn't surprising to hear that the author of the 1619 project came out against bernie, since this view of history pretty much locks out the idea of changing the nature of America or deviating from how-its-meant-to-be. It's really weird and doesn't make much sense but I think that's just the problem of me trying to take it seriously and not just literally, lol. Like it definitely has that "there is no future, just a past to be reclaimed" essence that the whole capitalist realist perspective is compatible with, to my understanding of it.

It's a couple weeks or so now since I read Karp's essay but I think you've hit the nail on the head with this part. It's the idea that understanding history lets us understand the present, but doesn't let us change it because history is immutable and unchangeable. So instead of using history to understand how we got to where we are and where to go from here, it's competing narratives of history/mythology where one narrative says our DNA leads us to this predetermined future and the other narrative says our DNA leads us to that predetermined future and nothing anybody does can change that.


Some Guy TT posted:

its utterly wild to think that writing this article is what has turned jones into this meritocratic hero whos being denied tenure because of racism i mean just look at this poo poo

i kind of figured that tweet with jones talking about the cherokee owning slaves was just badly phrased posting but no she actually honest to god believes that black people invented civil rights and doesnt seem to understand that all these struggles were going on at the same time and influenced each other

This part is especially intriguing because it claims the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 as some success for progressive activists at the time, who wanted the changes in this act specifically to overturn racist immigration policy. In fact, when written it was intended to be the opposite, to write a colourblind law that would still inherently benefit white people. Here's Astra Taylor describing it:

Astra Taylor, Democracy may not exist but we'll miss it when it's gone, pp. 107-8 posted:

The Hart-Celler Act ushered in two significant changes. First, it imposed uniform quotas on immigrants from all countries, regardless of size, need, or relationship to the United States. Second, it opened additional aveues for immigration based on factors such as occupational skill or family connections. The new law was designed to be not overtly racist, but it was still highly restrictive: most foreign-born people would never have a chance of legally entering the United States. "Preference should be given to an immigrant because he is a nuclear physicist rather than because he is an Anglo-Saxon," John F. Kennedy said in a 1957 speech, his rationale raising all sorts of questions about who has access to higher education and what skills a society values over others. The emphasis on family unification was no less problematic, at least as it was initially intended, for it was aimed to appease conservative skeptics under the assumption that it would bolster America's Anglo-Saxon population. "Since the people of Africa and Asia have very few relatives here, comparatively few could immigrate from those countries because they have no family ties in the United States," Celler said, pleading his case. His opponents were convinced and the legislation was passed.

It was a miscalculation. According to an NPR headline on the act's fiftieth anniversary: "In 1965, a Conservative Tried to Keep America White. His Plan Backfired." By the mid-sixties, Europeans were less motivated to emigrate than people from other parts of the world and the pattern of immigration to the United States became dramatically more diverse. Before 1965, the population was 85 percent white. Fifty years later, the percentage of racial and ethnic minorities had doubled to a third. By 2010, nine out of ten immigrants came from non-European countries.

This seeming triumph for inclusiveness was mainly an accident and it was not the result of a domestic democratic process. Change came from above, with almost no public scrutiny. The civil rights movement had a role in discrediting overtly racist criteria in immigration policy, for which it should be commended, but international relations were a more crucial factor. Foreign policy interests, diplomatic negotiations, and rival propaganda combined to force changes of policy: decolonized and small countries banded together to oppose American discrimination and Soviet publicity trumpeted American hypocrisy on matters of racial equality. Secretary of State Dean Acheson wrote to President Truman that "our failure to remove racial barriers provides the Kremlin with unlimited political and propaganda capital for use against us in Japan and the far east." Racism was bad for America's image and empowered its enemies. In response, John F. Kennedy's ghostwritten book A Nation of Immigrants updated the old ideal of America as a "melting pot," a vision captured by the country's unofficial motto "E pluribus unum" or "Out of many, one." Inclusion and assimilation would be one and the same.

The 1619 Project view of this act is that the civil rights movement made racism bad and so politicians passed a law to do away with racism in immigration so that people of colour from all over the world could immigrate. Actually, overt racism falling out of fashion had some part to play but the act was still designed to backdoor in white immigrants, it just failed because it turned out white immigration was much less appealing once other white countries had rebuilt from the war, and in any case implementing colourblind legislation had more to do with trying to do away with the source of Soviet propaganda that was winning over decolonizing countries in the Cold War, because the USSR was officially racism-free and investing heavily in things like Patrice Lumumba University while the US was still officially segregated and Whites-Only.

comedyblissoption
Mar 15, 2006

karp is right that it's extremely :thunk: that biden et al have no problem embracing its narratives

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Afy1mRcPh90

Pentecoastal Elites
Feb 27, 2007
Probation
Can't post for 10 hours!

Cerebral Bore posted:

i only skimmed that poo poo, but it sounds like they're making a shittier version of losurdo's argument in liberalism: a counter history, except instead of deriving the impetus for slavery from the material necessities of liberal capitalism they just throw their hands up and say that racism just happened because it happened

Ardennes
May 12, 2002

quote:

So when I was young, that flag outside our home never made sense to me. How could this black man, having seen firsthand the way his country abused black Americans, how it refused to treat us as full citizens, proudly fly its banner? I didn’t understand his patriotism. It deeply embarrassed me.

I had been taught, in school, through cultural osmosis, that the flag wasn’t really ours, that our history as a people began with enslavement and that we had contributed little to this great nation. It seemed that the closest thing black Americans could have to cultural pride was to be found in our vague connection to Africa, a place we had never been. That my dad felt so much honor in being an American felt like a marker of his degradation, his acceptance of our subordination.

Like most young people, I thought I understood so much, when in fact I understood so little. My father knew exactly what he was doing when he raised that flag. He knew that our people’s contributions to building the richest and most powerful nation in the world were indelible, that the United States simply would not exist without us.

To me this is the core of the essay: that anti-black racism is at the core of the United States, but despite that DNA, black people moved forward and became part of the "building of the richest and power powerful nation in the world." In the end, black people's contributions to the greatest of America are a vital victory despite past injustice.

At its core is a hard to accept message: that the United States, despite its long history of slavery and discrimination, is worthy of moral authority because of its power.

or you could take it as: "I won the battle against myself and learned to love America."

(I don't think reducing the effect of the Cold War or the experience of Native Americans etc is an accident.)

Ardennes has issued a correction as of 15:59 on Jun 25, 2021

comedyblissoption
Mar 15, 2006

is it accurate to frame the concept of "white privilege" as for example white people have the privilege of not being as viciously extrajudicially murdered and beaten by the police

where privilege means something like driving is a privilege

because this framing always seemed insane to me compared to framing it as ethnic and class oppression, but im wondering if im thinking of a strawman or this really is the actual framing

John Charity Spring
Nov 4, 2009

SCREEEEE

comedyblissoption posted:

is it accurate to frame the concept of "white privilege" as for example white people have the privilege of not being as viciously extrajudicially murdered and beaten by the police

where privilege means something like driving is a privilege

because this framing always seemed insane to me compared to framing it as ethnic and class oppression, but im wondering if im thinking of a strawman or this really is the actual framing

this is always what i've seen 'privilege' used to mean (on more and less drastic scales) but i haven't read much academic stuff on it, just seen it regurgitated on twitter etc

comedyblissoption
Mar 15, 2006

so this framing takes a truth that the system is structured where a certain group of people has material advantages over another and oppresses them in a caste-like system which reinforces the status quo

which yes that is absolutely true

however, the use of the term privilege makes it seem as if the system and the rulers are bestowing upon the white class the benefit of being treated with something approaching basic human decency. which is exactly what the rulers want people to think. the 40 hour work week and domestic abolition of child slavery and social security (primarily benefiting whites) was won because the capitalists in their benevolence tolerated it and allowed it and so on. a privilege. not because they were scared shitless and conceded.

so through rhetorical argument, some basic human decency is a privilege granted to certain people by the rulers and system and not won through class struggle.

please let me know if im arguing w/ a strawman id be interested to know if this is a scathing critique or a dullard's ramblings

Some Guy TT
Aug 30, 2011

i think youre making a decent point personally part of the problem with white privilege as a concept is that its almost completely meaningless to a white person whos used to being treated like crap either for being poor or sexually divergent or neuroatypical the idea that being white inherently confers instant obvious privilege calls to mind this deliberately absurd eddie murphy bit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_LeJfn_qW0

crazy eyes mustafa
Nov 30, 2014
that essay is a lot of words just to say “america: love it or leave it!” tbh

vyelkin
Jan 2, 2011

comedyblissoption posted:

so this framing takes a truth that the system is structured where a certain group of people has material advantages over another and oppresses them in a caste-like system which reinforces the status quo

which yes that is absolutely true

however, the use of the term privilege makes it seem as if the system and the rulers are bestowing upon the white class the benefit of being treated with something approaching basic human decency. which is exactly what the rulers want people to think. the 40 hour work week and domestic abolition of child slavery and social security (primarily benefiting whites) was won because the capitalists in their benevolence tolerated it and allowed it and so on. a privilege. not because they were scared shitless and conceded.

so through rhetorical argument, some basic human decency is a privilege granted to certain people by the rulers and system and not won through class struggle.

please let me know if im arguing w/ a strawman id be interested to know if this is a scathing critique or a dullard's ramblings

In academic use, "privilege" is more or less synonymous with "advantage," so it's less about seeing white privilege or male privilege or whatever else as something given to you from on high and more about trying to recognize where someone else's disadvantage gives you an advantage that you may not ever even notice unless someone points it out. As far as I know, this is the essay that first popularized the concept of "privilege" back in the late 80s and even just skimming it you can see she's basically using "privilege" and "advantage" as synonyms throughout, in passages such as

quote:

As a white person, I realized I had been taught about racism as something that puts others at a disadvantage, but had been taught not to see one of its corollary aspects, white privilege, which puts me at an advantage

or

quote:

My schooling gave me no training in seeing myself as an oppressor, as an unfairly advantaged person, or as a participant in a damaged culture.

In my opinion, for the exact reasons you've identified, "advantage" is actually a better word to use when discussing privilege, but it's not the one that's caught on. "Privilege" comes with tons of baggage. There's the baggage you've identified, that it sounds like something granted from on high. There's also the baggage that if you describe someone as "privileged" it sounds like they're living in the lap of luxury and everything is easy for them, which rings hollow to, for example, poor white people. "Privilege" sounds like an objective measurement of status, whereas "advantage" has the benefit of injecting subjectivity--you can only be advantaged in relation to someone else, not in a vacuum. And that, I think, helps explain basic ideas like "you can be disadvantaged in some ways and advantaged in others, like you can be poor and marginalized for many reasons but if you're white that isn't one of them" without also unintentionally spreading the message that all white people are "privileged", which is true in a strictly racial sense (being white confers advantages) but not in an intersectional sense (you can be white and still marginalized for other reasons). I think most white people, if asked whether they think being white confers advantages, would say that it does, but if asked whether being white makes them privileged, would say that it doesn't, because the first framing pushes them to think about themselves in relation to others but the second pushes them to think about all the hardships they've suffered in their life for other reasons and think "well if I was privileged, why did I endure all those terrible things?"

comedyblissoption
Mar 15, 2006

then the other connotation with privilege is that privilege can be decided to just be taken away. the implication of this framing is that the rulers could just meet together and decide to yank something away for their own material benefit

but it doesnt work like that. they cant just get together and arbitrarily decide to start extrajudicially murdering and oppressing and concentration camping whites like they do with minorities because theyve decided whites have had some modicum of human decency for too long. the system runs a tremendous risk of civil instability if this was attempted, and this would require somehow convincing the massive sprawling civil apparatus to cooperate.

another concrete example of this is social security, which predominantly benefits whites. as far as im aware, the capitalists have been trying to kill this policy ever since it was enacted. i'm aware of major multiple attempts by the clinton, bush, and obama administrations. the capitalists have every ideological and economic incentive. but they have thus far been unsuccessful at yanking it away, suggesting it is not a mere "privilege", even though actually implemented policy aligns and is literally written by them on a regular basis. sure they are trying to erode the policy over a giant timespan and they very well may be successful at the horizon in stamping out the last vestiges of the new deal, but even in so doing you could not call this heavily white-favoring policy a privilege as the word privilege should be understood.

Some Guy TT
Aug 30, 2011

can i just briefly mention comedyblissoption how amusing it is to see you call yourself a dullard in the context of a thread that spun off from another thread where people have called you out as one of the best cspam posters

by and large people respect you quite a bit including me just making sure you understand that

comedyblissoption
Mar 15, 2006

vyelkin posted:

In academic use, "privilege" is more or less synonymous with "advantage," so it's less about seeing white privilege or male privilege or whatever else as something given to you from on high and more about trying to recognize where someone else's disadvantage gives you an advantage that you may not ever even notice unless someone points it out. As far as I know, this is the essay that first popularized the concept of "privilege" back in the late 80s and even just skimming it you can see she's basically using "privilege" and "advantage" as synonyms throughout, in passages such as

or

In my opinion, for the exact reasons you've identified, "advantage" is actually a better word to use when discussing privilege, but it's not the one that's caught on. "Privilege" comes with tons of baggage. There's the baggage you've identified, that it sounds like something granted from on high. There's also the baggage that if you describe someone as "privileged" it sounds like they're living in the lap of luxury and everything is easy for them, which rings hollow to, for example, poor white people. "Privilege" sounds like an objective measurement of status, whereas "advantage" has the benefit of injecting subjectivity--you can only be advantaged in relation to someone else, not in a vacuum. And that, I think, helps explain basic ideas like "you can be disadvantaged in some ways and advantaged in others, like you can be poor and marginalized for many reasons but if you're white that isn't one of them" without also unintentionally spreading the message that all white people are "privileged", which is true in a strictly racial sense (being white confers advantages) but not in an intersectional sense (you can be white and still marginalized for other reasons). I think most white people, if asked whether they think being white confers advantages, would say that it does, but if asked whether being white makes them privileged, would say that it doesn't, because the first framing pushes them to think about themselves in relation to others but the second pushes them to think about all the hardships they've suffered in their life for other reasons and think "well if I was privileged, why did I endure all those terrible things?"
that makes more sense to use something like "advantage"

with all these common problems idk why people wouldn't want to drop the term "privilege" outside of these non-academic contexts since people understand words based on how they use them

Atrocious Joe
Sep 2, 2011

In the US, it's a privilege to not be executed by an agent of the state when pulled over for a minor traffic violation.

comedyblissoption
Mar 15, 2006

thanks for sharing the essay. she makes it clear that she did not mean privilege in the strawmanny sense i was describing it earlier and it's clear she meant people should enjoy being treated with decency universally (because it would be absolutely ridiculous to think otherwise)

Marzzle
Dec 1, 2004

Bursting with flavor

Some Guy TT posted:

i think youre making a decent point personally part of the problem with white privilege as a concept is that its almost completely meaningless to a white person whos used to being treated like crap either for being poor or sexually divergent or neuroatypical the idea that being white inherently confers instant obvious privilege calls to mind this deliberately absurd eddie murphy bit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_LeJfn_qW0


sketch got the bank part right but it's only true for the ultra wealthy

comedyblissoption
Mar 15, 2006

so i was thinking about the specific word "privilege". the author of that essay advises not to get hung up on this word, but i disagree. so this is the specific definition:

"a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group"

and the way it is used in the essay and with a strict dictionary reading (which is absolutely not how people commonly use the word), "white privilege" is an accurate description of what is going on in the sense that it is society itself granting an advantage to a white person in just as similar a way that society itself is the one granting specific advantages to a feudal king of yore or the koch bros son.


but here's a big issue. what does it mean that society grants an advantage? what is society? what are the mechanisms? here is where there is tremendous fertile ground for disagreements, strawmanning, competing narratives, and so on.

and then i hear on npr about essentially male chauvinism that results in lower women pay. and the conclusion of the segment is essentially men are sexist, so women are paid less in executive and non-executive positions. and no examination of the socioeconomic relationships that determines pay. and then i hear npr talk about fdr to prop up the biden administration, and they frame explicitly the benefits of the new deal as won by wise politicians and the business community. and npr and the new york times and so on are very comfortable with this type of language because it seems very unthreatening to the status quo.

yes a marxist historical materialist could be using this terminology. but thats not where i tend to hear it from.

and so i think thats where a lot of suspicion lies with this terminology.

Marzzle
Dec 1, 2004

Bursting with flavor

I had no idea the 1619 project was just a bunch of NYT poo poo until today. it seems like an attempt to conflate the concept of privilege because you're really rich (and possibly own a stake in the NYT) with the idea of the advantages of being one race over another in a shithole nation like the USA. I'd say they picked the word "priviledge" on purpose to try and change its meaning for society at large and take away language that could be used to drive resentment toward the ultra wealthy

Victory Position
Mar 16, 2004

Eason the Fifth posted:

academics are the loving worst

"you're not being coy, you're being pedantic"

Toph Bei Fong
Feb 29, 2008



Leslie Harris' critique is pretty good, too

https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2020/03/06/1619-project-new-york-times-mistake-122248

quote:

I Helped Fact-Check the 1619 Project. The Times Ignored Me.
The paper’s series on slavery made avoidable mistakes. But the attacks from its critics are much more dangerous.

By LESLIE M. HARRIS

03/06/2020 05:10 AM EST

Leslie M. Harris is professor of history at Northwestern University, and author of In the Shadow of Slavery: African Americans in New York City, 1626-1863 and Slavery and the University: Histories and Legacies.

On August 19 of last year I listened in stunned silence as Nikole Hannah-Jones, a reporter for the New York Times, repeated an idea that I had vigorously argued against with her fact-checker: that the patriots fought the American Revolution in large part to preserve slavery in North America.

Hannah-Jones and I were on Georgia Public Radio to discuss the path-breaking New York Times 1619 Project, a major feature about the impact of slavery on American history, which she had spearheaded. The Times had just published the special 1619 edition of its magazine, which took its name from the year 20 Africans arrived in the colony of Virginia—a group believed to be the first enslaved Africans to arrive in British North America.

Weeks before, I had received an email from a New York Times research editor. Because I’m an historian of African American life and slavery, in New York, specifically, and the pre-Civil War era more generally, she wanted me to verify some statements for the project. At one point, she sent me this assertion: “One critical reason that the colonists declared their independence from Britain was because they wanted to protect the institution of slavery in the colonies, which had produced tremendous wealth. At the time there were growing calls to abolish slavery throughout the British Empire, which would have badly damaged the economies of colonies in both North and South.”

I vigorously disputed the claim. Although slavery was certainly an issue in the American Revolution, the protection of slavery was not one of the main reasons the 13 Colonies went to war.

I was concerned that critics would use the overstated claim to discredit the entire undertaking.

The editor followed up with several questions probing the nature of slavery in the Colonial era, such as whether enslaved people were allowed to read, could legally marry, could congregate in groups of more than four, and could own, will or inherit property—the answers to which vary widely depending on the era and the colony. I explained these histories as best I could—with references to specific examples—but never heard back from her about how the information would be used.

Despite my advice, the Times published the incorrect statement about the American Revolution anyway, in Hannah-Jones’ introductory essay. In addition, the paper’s characterizations of slavery in early America reflected laws and practices more common in the antebellum era than in Colonial times, and did not accurately illustrate the varied experiences of the first generation of enslaved people that arrived in Virginia in 1619.

Both sets of inaccuracies worried me, but the Revolutionary War statement made me especially anxious. Overall, the 1619 Project is a much-needed corrective to the blindly celebratory histories that once dominated our understanding of the past—histories that wrongly suggested racism and slavery were not a central part of U.S. history. I was concerned that critics would use the overstated claim to discredit the entire undertaking. So far, that’s exactly what has happened.

The 1619 Project became one of the most talked-about journalistic achievements of the year—as it was intended to. The Times produced not just a magazine, but podcasts, a newspaper section, and even a curriculum designed to inject a new version of American history into schools. Now it’s back in circulation; the Times is promoting it again during journalistic awards season, and it’s already a finalist for the National Magazine Awards and rumored to be a strong Pulitzer contender.

But it has also become a lightning rod for critics, and that one sentence about the role of slavery in the founding of the United States has ended up at the center of a debate over the whole project. A letter signed by five academic historians claimed that the 1619 Project got some significant elements of the history wrong, including the claim that the Revolutionary War was fought to preserve slavery. They have demanded that the New York Times issue corrections on these points, which the paper has so far refused to do. For her part, Hannah-Jones has acknowledged that she overstated her argument about slavery and the Revolution in her essay, and that she plans to amend this argument for the book version of the project, under contract with Random House.

The argument among historians, while real, is hardly black and white.

The criticism of the Times has emboldened some conservatives to assert that such “revisionist history” is flat-out illegitimate. The right-wing publication The Federalist is extending the fight with a planned “1620 Project” about the anniversary of the Mayflower Landing at Plymouth Rock. (This plan is already inviting its own correction request, since Plymouth Rock is not actually the site of the Pilgrims’ first landing.) The project was even criticized on the floor of the U.S. Senate when, during the impeachment trial, President Donald Trump’s lawyer cited the historians’ letter to slam the project. Some observers, including at times Hannah-Jones herself, have framed the argument as evidence of a chasm between black and white scholars (the historians who signed the letter are all white), pitting a progressive history that centers on slavery and racism against a conservative history that downplays them.

But the debates playing out now on social media and in op-eds between supporters and detractors of the 1619 Project misrepresent both the historical record and the historical profession. The United States was not, in fact, founded to protect slavery—but the Times is right that slavery was central to its story. And the argument among historians, while real, is hardly black and white. Over the past half-century, important foundational work on the history and legacy of slavery has been done by a multiracial group of scholars who are committed to a broad understanding of U.S. history—one that centers on race without denying the roles of other influences or erasing the contributions of white elites. An accurate understanding of our history must present a comprehensive picture, and it’s by paying attention to these scholars that we’ll get there.

Here is the complicated picture of the Revolutionary era that the New York Times missed: White Southerners might have wanted to preserve slavery in their territory, but white Northerners were much more conflicted, with many opposing the ownership of enslaved people in the North even as they continued to benefit from investments in the slave trade and slave colonies. More importantly for Hannah-Jones’ argument, slavery in the Colonies faced no immediate threat from Great Britain, so colonists wouldn’t have needed to secede to protect it. It’s true that in 1772, the famous Somerset case ended slavery in England and Wales, but it had no impact on Britain’s Caribbean colonies, where the vast majority of black people enslaved by the British labored and died, or in the North American Colonies. It took 60 more years for the British government to finally end slavery in its Caribbean colonies, and when it happened, it was in part because a series of slave rebellions in the British Caribbean in the early 19th century made protecting slavery there an increasingly expensive proposition.

Far from being fought to preserve slavery, the Revolutionary War became a primary disrupter of slavery in the North American Colonies. Lord Dunmore’s Proclamation, a British military strategy designed to unsettle the Southern Colonies by inviting enslaved people to flee to British lines, propelled hundreds of enslaved people off plantations and turned some Southerners to the patriot side. It also led most of the 13 Colonies to arm and employ free and enslaved black people, with the promise of freedom to those who served in their armies. While neither side fully kept its promises, thousands of enslaved people were freed as a result of these policies.

The ideals gaining force during the Revolutionary era also inspired Northern states from Vermont to Pennsylvania to pass laws gradually ending slavery. These laws did not prescribe full and immediate emancipation: They freed the children of enslaved mothers only after the children served their mothers’ enslavers through their early 20s. Nor did they promise racial equality or full citizenship for African Americans—far from it. But black activism during the Revolutionary War and this era of emancipation led to the end of slavery earlier than prescribed in such laws. Enslaved black people negotiated with their owners to purchase their freedom, or simply ran away in the confused aftermath of war. And most Northern enslavers freed slaves ahead of the time mandated by law.

Among Northern—and even some Southern—white people, the push to end slavery during this time was real. The new nation almost faltered over the degree to which the Constitution supported the institution. In the end, Northern Colonies conceded a number of points to the protection of slavery on the federal level, even as the Constitution also pledged to end the trans-Atlantic slave trade by 1807—all without once using the word “slave.” The degree to which the document was intended to provide for the protection or the destruction of slavery was hotly contested in the antebellum era. While Frederick Douglass may have seen the Constitution as an anti-slavery document, both radical abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison and pro-slavery ideologue John C. Calhoun saw it as written to support slavery. Abraham Lincoln was unable to use the Constitution as written to end slavery, either during his time in Congress or after his election to the presidency. The argument was settled through the Civil War, and by rewriting the Constitution with the 13th, 14th and 15th amendments.

The 1619 Project, in its claim that the Revolution was fought primarily to preserve slavery, doesn’t do justice to this history. Nor, however, does the five historians’ critical letter. In fact, the historians are just as misleading in simply asserting that Lincoln and Douglass agreed that the Constitution was a “glorious liberty document” without addressing how few other Americans agreed that the Constitution’s protections should be shared with African Americans. Gradual emancipation laws, as well as a range of state and local laws across the antebellum nation limiting black suffrage, property ownership, access to education and even residency in places like Ohio, Washington and California, together demonstrate that legally, the struggle for black equality almost always took a back seat to the oppressive imperatives of white supremacy. And racial violence against black people and against those few white people who supported ending slavery and supported black citizenship undergirded these inequalities—a pattern that continued well into the 20th century.

The five historians’ letter says it “applauds all efforts to address the enduring centrality of slavery and racism to our history.” The best-known of those letter-writers, however, built their careers on an older style of American history—one that largely ignored the new currents that had begun to bubble up among their contemporaries. By the time Gordon Wood and Sean Wilentz were publishing their first, highly acclaimed books on pre-Civil War America, in the early 1970s and mid-1980s, respectively, academic historians had begun, finally, to acknowledge African American history and slavery as a critical theme in American history. But Wood and Wilentz paid little attention to such matters in their first works on early America.

In Wood’s exhaustive and foundational The Creation of the American Republic (1969), which details the development of republican ideology in the new nation, there is only one index listing for “Negroes,” and none for slavery. In his first book, Chants Democratic (1984), Wilentz sought to explain how New York’s antebellum-era working class took up republican ideals, which had been used by some Founding Fathers to limit citizenship, and rewrote the tenets to include themselves as full-fledged citizens. Yet Wilentz’s work largely ignored issues of race and black workers, even though New York had the largest population of enslaved black people in the Colonial North, the second-largest population of free black people in the antebellum urban North, and was the site of the most violent race riots of the 19th century. As I wrote in my own 2003 book, Wilentz created “a white hegemony more powerful than that which existed” during the era he was studying.

In their subsequent works, Wilentz and Wood have continued to fall prey to the same either/or interpretation of the nation’s history: Either the nation is a radical instigator of freedom and liberty, or it is not. (The truth, obviously, is somewhere in between.) In The Radicalism of the American Revolution (1991), Wood acknowledges the new nation’s failure to end slavery, and even the brutality of some Founding Fathers who held people as property. But the facts of slave-owning are not presented as central to that time. While he discusses the Founders’ ability to eliminate other forms of hierarchy, Wood has no explanation for why they were unable to eliminate slavery; nor does he discuss how or why Northern states did so. Further, black people as historical actors shaping the ideas and lives of the Founders have no place in his work.

Wilentz has struggled publicly over how to understand the centrality of slavery to the nation’s founding era. In a 2015 op-ed, and more fully in his 2018 book No Property in Man, he argues that the Constitutional Convention specifically kept support for slavery defined as “property in man” out of the Constitution, a key distinction that the Founders believed would eventually allow for ending slavery in the nation. Such an argument obscures the degree to which many Founding Fathers returned to a support of Southern slavery as the revolutionary fervor waned; by the early 19th century, as only one example, Thomas Jefferson established the University of Virginia in part as a pro-slavery bulwark against Northern anti-slavery ideologies.

Fortunately, the works of Wood and Wilentz and others who underrepresent the centrality of slavery and African Americans to America’s history are only one strand of a vibrant scholarship on early America. Beginning in the last quarter of the 20th century, historians like Gary Nash, Ira Berlin and Alfred Young built on the earlier work of Carter G. Woodson, Benjamin Quarles, John Hope Franklin and others, writing histories of the Colonial and Revolutionary eras that included African Americans, slavery and race. A standout from this time is Edmund Morgan’s American Slavery, American Freedom, which addresses explicitly how the intertwined histories of Native American, African American and English residents of Virginia are foundational to understanding the ideas of freedom we still struggle with today. These works have much to teach us about history, and about how to study and present it in a way that is inclusive of our historical and present-day diversity as a nation. Just as importantly, these scholars and many others fostered new scholarship by mentoring a diverse group of thinkers within and beyond academia.

It is easy to correct facts; it is much harder to correct a worldview that consistently ignores and distorts the role of African Americans and race in our history.

As a result, today there is a growing, multiracial group of historians who try to offer a complete picture of our past. Thanks to their efforts, we now know that slavery existed in all 13 Colonies. Scholars like Annette Gordon-Reed and Woody Holton have given us a deeper understanding of the ways in which leaders like Thomas Jefferson committed to new ideas of freedom even as they continued to be deeply committed to slavery. Thanks to Peter Wood, Sylvia Frey and Erica Armstrong Dunbar, to name only a few, we have more detailed knowledge of the ways in which black people fought for freedom before, during and after the Revolutionary era—and how, as the 1619 Project rightly points out, they challenged the patriots to live up to their own ideals of freedom for all—ideals that only fully began to be realized at the close of the Civil War, and have still not been fulfilled.

As someone who has spent much of my career as a historian working with museums, K-12 teachers and the media to make the history of slavery and race accessible to the general public, I know how important listening to and reading these kinds of histories is. It is easy to correct facts; it is much harder to correct a worldview that consistently ignores and distorts the role of African Americans and race in our history in order to present white people as all powerful and solely in possession to the keys of equality, freedom and democracy. At least that is the corrective history toward which the 1619 Project is moving, if imperfectly.

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Marzzle
Dec 1, 2004

Bursting with flavor

it's important you get confused about who the most privileged americans are. it COULD be the billionaires' fashion disaster kid but have you considered that you, as an ordinary income white person, enjoy privileges of your own?

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