Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts

Thursday, July 3, 2025

Violence drowns out explanations

From the peaceful Mayday protest in DC

If the success of a protest movement depends on winning converts to the cause—fellow citizens who will either join it or vote with it—then recent opinion polls should give an indication of how the movement is doing so far.

In early June, YouGov polled about 3,000 American adults before and after the June 14 No Kings rally. The results were encouraging. Before June 14, 33 percent said they strongly approve of the protests; after, that number climbed to 38 percent, with another 9 percent approving “somewhat,” and somewhere between 16 and 25 percent of others who could be won over. 

In my last post I suggested that a better theme could win over those fence-sitters. Since then, the Senate passed a federal budget that would throw millions off health insurance while giving lucrative tax breaks mostly to the wealthy.

It’s also crucial that the movement remain peaceful and that it distances itself from any violence that occurs in connection with protests. By a margin of 42 to 35, respondents told YouGov they believed participants in recent Los Angeles protests against Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) were mostly violent.



And note how closely those results track with opinions on public approval of the protest (45-36 percent disapproval).


These results are consistent with extensive studies of 20th century protest movements around the globe, which found that nonviolent campaigns were twice as effective as violent ones.

But also, when individuals associated in the public mind with an otherwise peaceful movement commit violent acts in conjunction with or close proximity to protests, it tends to undermine popular support.

No one understood this better than Martin Luther King Jr.

By 1962, his movement had been succeeding in winning popular support, largely because of the contrast playing out on the nightly news between peaceful protesters and violent segregationists who opposed them, especially Southern cops with their dogs and fire hoses. In Albany, Georgia, the movement encountered a different dynamic.

Unlike segregationists in other cities, Albany police chief Laurie Pritchett restrained his men from retaliating violently and against protesters. When gangs of local blacks—characterized by King biographer Taylor Branch as “juke-joint” hoodlums who were not “movement people,” began throwing bricks and bottles at police outside a meeting of organized protesters at Shiloh Baptist Church, Pritchett pushed through the crowd and into the Church, walked up to the podium, and spoke to the crowd.

“We respect your policy,” he said but added: “I ask your cooperation in keeping Albany peaceful. This business of throwing rocks is not good.”

Of course the movement people inside the church agreed—but what power did they have against the hoodlums outside?

King was in jail at this time. Later during the campaign, when organized protesters marched to the jail with the goal of being arrested to show the contrast between their peaceful demands for basic rights and unreasonable Southern resistance, “angry Negro bystanders” started hurling beer bottles, rocks and bricks at the arresting officers.

During the riot Pritchett quipped to reporters: “Did you see them non-violent rocks?” Press reports included a photograph of a cop holding a rock that knocked out two of his teeth. The New York Times published a “lauditory profile of Chief Pritchet,” Branch wrote. It seemed that a Southern cop, "not King, was the “master of nonviolence that night.”

But now, King was out of jail. When one of his associates suggested he should rationalize the violence  as an understandable response to segregation in his comments to reporters, King refused. The violence, King reasoned, would drowned out any such explanations, Branch wrote.

Meanwhile, King declared a day of penance and went on a “peacemaker’s tour of Albany’s Negro dives” to explain the nonviolent strategy to its patrons and how their violent reactions had undermined the movement. “We don’t need guns and ammunition, just the power of souls,” King told them.

King was modeling his behavior on Mahatma Gandhi, who fasted whenever his followers resorted to violence.

It’s important to note the connection between the tactics of the Civil Rights Movement and the fortunes of the Political Party more inclined to support its goals and thus associated with it in the public mind. 

Princeton Politics Professor Omar Wasow studied press coverage of the 1960s Civil Rights Movement and found that “when the [protest] tactics were primarily nonviolent, the counties proximate to nonviolent activism tended to vote more liberally.” But when violence broke out in connection with protests, those counties voted more conservatively. Violent protests in reaction to King’s assassination may have helped to elect Richard Nixon in 1968. “In the counties with violence, the Democratic vote fell by at least 2 percent, which was enough to help Richard Nixon win the 1968 presidential election,” Wasow said.

This year, a May 25 YouGov Poll had the Democratic Party’s popular approval under water by a whopping 20 percent (58-38% unfavorable). Having been blamed for lawlessness at the border, and rising crime in cities, the Democrats can’t afford to be associated with more of the same.

Of course the current anti-Trump movement has no one well-respected and credible leader like King to make the case to purveyors of violence.

Violent eruptions on the sidelines of peaceful protests—like those at the recent Los Angeles anti-ICE riots or during the George Floyd protests of 2020—are probably inevitable.

But it’s imperative that leaders of the movement and the Democratic Party unequivocally, clearly, unambiguously, and in unison condemn the violence rather than try to justify it as many did in 2020, ignoring King’s maxim that violence drowns out explanations.

For example, Nicole Hannah Jones, a prominent figure in the “race reckoning” of 2020 and mastermind behind the New York Times 1619 project, argued that property destruction isn’t violence if no one is hurt—this at a time when police stations were burning on the nightly news, once famously behind a CNN reporter describing “mostly peaceful protests.”

Ta Nehisi Coates, perhaps the most prominent African American advocate of the 2010s, proclaimed that "The people who are called on to be nonviolent are the people with the ability to do the least amount of damage; whereas, we don't call upon those who have the most power and actually can do the most damage."

The Nation published an article with the headline: “In Defense of Destroying Property: We cannot conflate the destruction of plateglass with the violence that is being protested.”

Any nuance behind comments like these are sure to be drowned out by images of burning police stations and Waymos, as the polls on the LA protests show.

Also in their June polling, YouGov asked people about their lingering perceptions of the George Floyd protests and found that 46 percent thought they were “mostly violent,” and only 33 percent remembered them as “mostly peaceful.”

You would think the party and the leaders of organizations behind the protests like Indivisible would learn from past mistakes, but I’m not hopeful.

When the Democratic pollster (and self-described socialist) David Shor posted Wasow’s article after violence broke out during BLM protests in 2020, he was attacked relentlessly on Twitter by fellow liberals and then fired from his job at Civis Analytics, a consultancy founded by one of President Obama’s campaign analysts.

At least one Democratic member of Congress is repeating the mistakes of 2020 and instead of unequivocally distancing the cause from violence as King did, asserting “nobody was shot, nobody was killed” and “there was no violence,” at a time when Waymos were burning in the background. 

Note

On the Albany protest and King's response to violence see Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters: American in the King Years, 604-621.


Wednesday, December 25, 2024

Effervescent Christmas

This ad appeared in the Boston Globe during the Christmas shopping season of 1919. Note the enticement to become consumers rather than producers of music.

The assembly hall at Phillips Exeter Academy is usually the site of serious, sometimes grim, subjects: global warming, war, poverty, the Supreme Court.

Last Friday, one of our music teachers, Eric Sinclair, got up on stage and sang Christmas carols.

This assembly used to be an annual event, but it hadn’t happened for long enough that the current students had never experienced it. I never heard an explanation for why it was stopped, but I’ve assumed that, in the spirit of diversity and inclusion, we had decided that the “harm” it might do to people who don’t celebrate Christmas was more important than the “collective effervescence” it inspires among those who know the words to the songs.

Was this experience of joining together with others in song more common before Netflix and doom scrolling? Before we traded in our pianos for record-players? Before we all had our own Spotify playlists and air-buds? Did we know the words to more of the same songs and sit around the fire or the piano and sing together?

Christmas and Christmas songs seem to be one of the few things that still permeate our national culture down through the generations. After the assembly, Eric said he wasn’t sure this youngest generation would know the words. They did.

They belted out “Deck the Halls,” and “”Jingle Bells,” and when Eric sang “had a very shiny nose,” they even knew to shout back: “like a light bulb!”

Adam Grant guessed that the numbers of depressed Americans quadruped during COVID quarantine because we were being denied “a special kind of joy.”

“Peak happiness,” he said, “lies mostly in collective activity.”

Grant’s NYT op-ed is where I learned the term collective effervescence. “We find our greatest bliss in moments of collective effervescence,” he wrote.

According to my AI friend, Gemini, the term was coined by Emile Durkheim in 1912 and describes the feeling of energy and harmony that people experience when they come together in a group with a shared purpose. It is a joie de vivre that manifests when we share moments with others, such as being in a stadium that erupts in simultaneous applause when a musician returns for an encore performance.

Grant described the feeling more broadly to include “creating together and solving problems together.” He chided Americans for thinking that the pursuit of happiness is a solitary endeavor and called for a “Declaration of Interdependence.”

Unfortunately, the end of pandemic lock-downs didn’t end what the surgeon general calls our loneliness epidemic. And there’s no end in sight.

It seems like every new invention and every social trend has the effect of pushing us away from each other. My parents’ first home was just around the corner from both of my grandparents. Then we moved to the suburbs. By the end of the day on Christmas, nine people will have spent a combined 60 hours driving to our holiday celebrations over the last few days in search of an effervescent Christmas.

I hope we were wrong about the harm these songs might cause.  I can't recall a single religious theme in the lyrics Eric sang. They were all about decking the halls and dashing through snow.  And one song at the end had an inclusive message, about German and British soldiers playing soccer during a Christmas truce in 1914.  The assembly ended with these words: On each end of the rifle we're the same.

Tuesday, November 23, 2021

WEIRD supremacy culture


In the summer of Our Racial Reckoning, a controversy erupted around a poster on the Smithsonian History museum website with the title “Aspects and Assumptions of White Culture in the United States.” The poster presented a list of largely positive cultural values—things like delayed gratification, be polite, action-oriented, rugged individualism, and hard work—but attributed them to "whiteness" and seemed to frame them in a negative light. President Trump and others condemned the poster and it was soon taken down. Just another skirmish in the Great American Culture War.

The poster was derived from a popular handbook for anti-racism training written in 1978 and still used in classrooms and seminars. The book, White Awareness: Handbook for Anti-Racism Training, by Judith H. Katz has a 4.1 rating on Amazon and is “an important book that needs to be read by all professionals,” according to a reviewer who signed off as Allen Ivey, a “distinguished” professor of education at UMass, Amherst.

The poster also resembles the work of another influential antiracism trainer, Tema Okun, who jotted down a list of “The Characteristics of White Supremacy Culture” after a frustrating day of work sometime in the late 90s. She turned the list into an article and then the basis of a consulting practice, a website, and a book. Although Okun and Katz are not as prominent as currently fashionable race gurus like fellow white diversity trainer Robin D’Angelo, or African-American writers Ta-Nehisi Coates and Ibram X. Kendi, their ideas are widely circulated, showing up in a wide variety of settings, from elementary schools to the Sierra Club and a national history museum.

Katz and Okun have a point. A lot of the features they attribute to white culture can be annoying or worse—and they become particularly annoying during a long and frustrating work day. Much of our unhappiness, I think, comes from the effort to live up to these cultural expectations. They seem connected to Americans’ obsession with work and the fact that 55 percent of us don’t even bother to use up all of our paid vacation allotment.

Consider just one item on the poster: “rugged individualism: the individual is the primary unit.” We may be the loneliest people in human history. Since 1960, the percentage of Americans who live alone has risen from 13 to 28. The self-liquidating nuclear family is a clever arrangement that sustains the population but keeps it atomized. You have children and raise them to adulthood, then send them to college five hours away in a different state where they meet a boyfriend and end up spending Thanksgiving with his family, who also live five hours away (this is a totally hypothetical example, with no connection to actual events).

The extended family—once the “primary unit” of humanity—is soon to be joined by the neighborhood in the dustbin of history. Twenty-six percent of millennials say they don’t know the name of even one neighbor.

But what does any of this have to do with skin color? Are Black and brown people all living in extended-family heaven? Have they all mastered work-life balance?

No say Okun and the Smithsonian: “Since white people still hold most of the institutional power in America, we have all internalized some aspect of white culture—including people of color.”

Hard-working, individualistic Black people, it seems, are not authentically Black. That’s "a racialist view that imputes a singular, authentic consciousness and values, aspirations and mores to racially designated populations," according to Adolph Reed. Policing the boundaries of "authentic Blackness" is a common weapon that has been used by mainstream race activists to dismiss the ideas of Black Marxists like Reed as well as Black conservative like Thomas Sowell. It seems particularly objectionable when wielded by white people.

What annoys some whites and a lot of Blacks about the Smithsonian poster and Okun’s formulations is that they seem to accept a fundamental premise of racism—that a person’s skin color comes with certain essential characteristics. Critics of contemporary antiracist thinking often level this charge of racial essentialism, and also race reductionism—the belief that racism is the cause of every social phenomenon—against antiracists activists and diversity trainers.

To be fair, Okun, Katz, and those who agree with them would disavow those charges and say they are talking about cultural, not biological or genetic, essences. But their work makes culture seem less fluid than it is.

And the poster gave conservatives an easy win in the culture war.

I’d like to suggest that Okun and Katz—and the Smithsonian—could have avoided a lot of grief if they had grounded their analysis of culture in history rather than skin color.

I write as a fairly recent convert to “big history”—an approach to the discipline that looks at the whole sweep of the human story rather than just the relatively small part of it reflected in written historical documents. When I first saw the Smithsonian poster I thought about James C. Scott’s book Against the Grain, which hinges on the development of grain-based agriculture and chronicles the long conflict between the people inside and outside of states. Because civilization depended on the labor-intensive cultivation of grains, inhabitants of states were coerced into working much harder and longer than the hunter-gatherers, pastoralists, and horticulturalists who continued to reside outside the city walls. He describes those stateless, uncivilized “barbarians” as mostly happier and better off than the poor slobs living under the yoke of the state, in much the same way that Okun and Katz think of non-white people as having certain advantages over lonely, repressed, over-worked whites.

But it’s historical developments like agriculture and the rise of states, according to Scott and other big historians, not white skin that is the source of our misery. Civilized states sprang up all over the world, from Mexico to China, so the civilized-barbarian dichotomy does not represent a racial distinction. The barbarians outside the European states were just as “white” as the folks inside. But not all civilized cultures are alike—and Okun-Katz are onto something when they suggest that Europeans have developed a more intense version of civilized culture. It did not arise as a product of their whiteness, however, and even now not all Europeans share these characteristics equally, though they all live in states.

Long before the advent of “whiteness studies,”* historians have been trying to understand European exceptionalism. Why, they ask, did Europeans come to dominate the world? Like Okun and Katz, 19th century European historians credited essential characteristics of races. Europe took over because Europeans were biologically superior. Thankfully, 20th century historians moved beyond racial determinism to explore other possible causes.

A few years back, for example, Jared Diamond offered a compelling argument based on geographical determinism in his popular book Guns, Germs, and Steel. Other explanations have included things like the competition among European states, the Black Plague, and the invention or adoption of various technologies ranging from the printing press to the lateen sail and from eye-glasses to gunpowder.

A new book advances another compelling theory that seems particularly compatible with antiracism, even though it contradicts some of the premises of the movement.

In the WEIRDest People in the World, Joseph Henrich, argues that the European people he calls WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialized, and Democratic) and that Katz and Okun call white, got their peculiar characteristics not via biological evolution and not because of any physical feature like skin color, but through the evolution of culture. And because the key to that evolution was fluky, it implies no sense of inherent superiority among individuals in one culture over individuals in another. It wasn’t planned or willful, and it didn’t happen because the Europeans were naturally smarter or more industrious. It wasn’t in the genes.

According to Henrich, it emerged from a quirky set of policies, imposed on Europeans by the Catholic Church starting in the fourth century, which radically changed the nature of families, by, among many other things, prohibiting cousin marriage. Henrich call it the Marriage and Family Program (MFP). All these policies—his appendix lists six pages of them—had the effect of breaking down big extended families—clans—into smaller units until we ended up with that unsatisfying nuclear family mentioned above and the lonely, repressed, rugged individual.

Just as you don’t have to have a white skin to adopt “white culture,” Henrich shows how you don't have to be white or even Catholic to adopt WEIRD culture. In fact, Protestants ended up WEIRDer than Catholics, especially in terms of what the Smithsonian poster refers to as “the Protestant work ethic.” And more recently, Henrich says, Japan, South Korea, and China have adopted many features of WEIRD culture and psychology so successfully that they threaten to surpass Europeans in WEIRDness (Henrich, 476). Cultural evolution—and history—is a seesaw battle with no inevitable outcome.

Like the Smithsonian, which lists white qualities that are both advantageous and a bummer, Henrich points out that the culture that helped Europeans conquer the world, carries some very unsatisfying elements. On the plus side, he cites things like patience, inventiveness, industriousness, and my favorite, positive-sum thinking. On the downside, WEIRD people are more guilt-ridden, materialistic, and prone to suicide than people in kin-based societies (471, 427). And Henrich acknowledges “very real pervasive horrors of western colonialism, slavery, and genocide (487).

And even the people who benefit the most from WEIRD miss out on the warmth of kin-based societies, which Henrich describes as “both impressive and beautiful,” characterized by

relationship specific kindness, warmth, reciprocity, and—sometimes—unconditional generosity as well as authority and deference. It's focused on the in-group members in the networks. If you're in the group or the network it can feel like a long and comfortable hug (Henrich, 300).
Of course Henrich and Okun-Katz are not the first to notice the negative side of Western culture. During the colonial period in America, Europeans frequently ran away to live with the Indians. (Graeber and Wengrow, 18-20). Nineteenth-century utopians created a cottage industry in pointing to the flaws and contradictions embedded in a culture they found unsatisfying. Some of them formed communes, others, like Karl Marx, fomented revolution. Such people, Henrich notes, noticed that a culture supercharged by market capitalism “sometimes led to alienation, exploitation, and commodification." And our yearning for that "long and comfortable hug" has never gone away. This fall, my daughter moved to a commune in Virginia in search of that hug.

While Henrich agrees with some of their critiques of western culture, I have a feeling his theories won’t sit well with many in contemporary social justice movements for a number of reasons.

For one thing, although he acknowledges positive and negative features of WEIRD and kin-based societies, he argues that WEIRD culture has advantages that account for its dominance, and suggests that a process like natural selection will lead people in other cultures to adopt those features. This pushes against the cultural relativism of the left as well as a paradoxical inclination to see non-western cultures as morally superior and more humane.

These tensions may explain why he was denied a job in the anthropology department at the University of British Columbia and ended up with a joint appointment in the perhaps less-woke economics and psychology departments.

But qualities like moral and humane matter little in the contest between cultures, Henrich would say. Rather evolution rewards the ability to “scale up” and gain competitive advantage (87-122).

Henrich identifies a number of competitive advantages of WEIRD culture.

At the heart of his analysis is the unique, western nuclear family, which he sees as the key to the WEIRDness of the West and its success. The Catholics’ MFP included prohibitions on cousin marriage, which led people to seek partners outside the clan and thus shrank and weakened extended families and clans in relation to other institutions, like the church and the state. Perhaps more significantly, the banning of polygamy led to significant changes in male psychology that suppressed competition among males, and reduced crime, violence and zero-sum thinking

while promoting broader trust, long-term investments, and steady economic accumulation….Low status men in monogamous societies have a chance to marry, have children, and invest in the future. High-status men can and will still compete for status, but the currency of that competition can no longer involve the accumulation of wives or concubines. In a monogamous world, zero-sum competition is relatively less important. So, there's greater scope for forming voluntary organizations and teams that then compete at the group level.

In Henrich’s fascinating and surprising chapter on the subject, he calls, monogamous marriage a “peculiar institution” and a “testosterone suppression system,” citing studies that show dramatic declines in testosterone levels among men in monogamous marriages compared with men in polygynous societies, which have been the norm through most of human history, and are still fairly common today, while “nearly all modern legal prohibitions on polygynous marriage derive from WEIRD foundations, ultimately rooted in Christian doctrines” (255-283, 262).

It’s not hard to imagine how this might make life better for women. Yet, the Smithsonian devotes four bullet points to the monogamous nuclear “white” family, noting that the wife is “subordinate to the husband”; and it has become fashionable in the social justice hothouse of universities, which Henrich says is ground zero of WEIRD culture, to rail against the “patriarchal” two-parent “heteronormative” family as an oppressive, outdated relic of the past.

While a student at Yale, Rob Henderson, who grew up in foster homes, noticed that classmates who came from affluent two-parent families, would say “’monogamy is outdated’ but then they personally plan to get married and have the same kind of family that they had.” This experience inspired Henderson to coin the phrase “luxury beliefs,” which he attributed to elites who condemn elements of western culture—like hard work and two-parent families—that are the key to their prosperity.

According to Henderson, the notion that the Protestant work ethic is an element of white supremacy culture is a luxury belief developed by people who have every intention to work as hard as necessary to get ahead.

As people sought mates outside of clans, WEIRD societies became more cosmopolitan and less tribal. Survival came to depend on being able to “engage in a wide range of mutually beneficial transactions” with strangers, so people adopted “market norms” of fairness, honesty, and cooperation, “qualities that will help them attract the most customers as well as the best business partners, employees, students, and clients.” Those values were internalized and led to a culture of “impersonal prosociality.”

People in clannish societies focus more “on nurturing and sustaining enduring webs of interpersonal relationships,” which promotes their warmth—that comfortable hug. Since there is little need for transactions among strangers, there’s no incentive to conform to “market norms” and develop values of impersonal prosociality (293-294). If you live in a kin-based society, you’re more likely to take care of your aging parents and to cheat a stranger in a business transaction, according the Henrich.

Critics of European capitalism have long focused on negative values cultivated by market imperatives and Henrich acknowledges that in addition to making us more trustworthy to strangers, markets tend to erode communal warmth and “make people self-centered, individualistic, calculating, and competitive” (300, 299).

The Smithsonian chart is full of values connected to market norms—with nine bulleted items under “competition” and three under “Protestant work ethic.” But these values are not equally held by all white people, or all people living in Western countries. They were less prominent among the people Rob Henderson grew up with and more prominent among his undergraduate classmates. In my own experience, I can say they are much more widespread in the racially diverse elite boarding school where I teach than they were in the white working-class neighborhood where I grew up. They are not determined by skin color.

The concept of justice is also unique in WEIRD culture, Henrich says, and he presents it mostly as an improvement over kin-based justice, because it is based on individual responsibility, guilt and punishment rather than corporate responsibility, guilt and punishment. It seeks to apply universal principles (however imperfectly) rather than maintain in-group loyalty.

The Smithsonian poster lists as an element of white justice “intent counts,” but doesn’t mention what a better alternative might look like. Henrich contrasts Western law’s “intentionality in moral judgement” with legal systems that don’t consider intent. Consideration of intent, which is connected to the principle of individual rather than “corporate responsibility,” seems like a wholly positive development in the western legal tradition. It’s good that we treat first degree murder differently than a death caused by an accident. In some kin-based societies the individual perpetrator’s intent doesn’t matter at all. Rather than a prison sentence, kin-based societies often impose payment of “blood money” to the victim’s clan “and the size of this payment won’t depend on whether you killed the guy by accident.” Failure to work out an agreement on the payment doesn’t lead to judgement by a higher court, but to an ongoing “blood feud.” The goal is not fairness to the accused, but restitution to the clan (Henrich, 219-222; and Weiner, 117-126).

The Smithsonian poster’s reference to intent is neutral, but it seems to reflect a growing tendency among diversity advocates to de-emphasize or discount intent, and focus mainly on the impact of a harmful act—which is more often a “microaggression” than a murder. For example, see “Why Your Intentions Don’t Really Matter,” in Everyday Feminism. 

Henrich’s thesis would not be appealing to anyone looking for a neat historical dichotomy between an evil oppressor society and a world of romanticized victims. It lacks the “moral clarity,” for example, of the Times’ 1619 Project, which posits racism as inherent to western civilization, especially the American capitalist system.

Like Scott, Henrich points out that slavery was universal throughout human history among all races. Henrich also acknowledges, like the 1619 Project, that slavery became more brutal under European market capitalism. But he also agrees with critics of 1619 when he argues that Europe’s WEIRD culture with its Enlightenment values, was uniquely responsible for the abolition of slavery.

He attributes it to their belief in “moral universalism” (403). Unlike most other peoples, Henrich writes, WEIRDos tend to think analytically rather than holistically (a contrast not lost on critics of white culture) and so they “hate contradictions.” “Much of the development of Western law has been about ferreting out and resolving contradictions that emerge when one tries to isolate a set of principles and apply them more broadly” (404). Thus, abolitionists and others were motivated to end slavery to resolve a glaring contradiction.

It could have gone another way, Henrich notes. While abolitionists were trying to resolve the contradiction between Enlightenment ideals and slavery via emancipation, slave-owners were resolving the contradiction by convincing themselves that “slaves were a different kind of creation and thus not subject to the self-evident assertion about unalienable rights.” Thus, WEIRD culture didn’t make abolition inevitable and it’s still important to study history so we can understand how the abolitionists triumphed over the pro-slavery theorists (569, n.8). One thing that Henrich makes clear is that there is a spectrum of WEIRDness. Some parts of the West and of the United States are WEIRDer than others. If he is right, it would explain why Southern white people in the antebellum US who still married their first cousins (rates of cousin marriage tend to correlate with degrees of WEIRDness according to Henrich) were less bothered by the contradictions between slavery and the democratic ideas of the revolution while people in the WEIRDer North abolished slavery in their states after the Revolution and then fought a war to abolish it in the nation.

WEIRDness is still uneven. Henrich’s book includes maps that show the relative WEIRDness of the different US states and different European countries. A great irony is that according to Henrich the WEIRDest people on Earth today are the inhabitants of the western universities—especially in the United States—that are the epicenter of antiracist efforts to dismantle “white supremacy culture.”

Which gets to the problem of racism in contemporary WEIRD societies. If WEIRDness abolished slavery, why hasn't it ended racism? Henrich might argue that any remnants of racism in America are a function not of too much white culture, but of too little WEIRD culture.

Racism persists in America, he would say, to the degree that the Catholic MFP has not fully stamped out intensive kinship and in-group prosociality, and racism would be more likely to thrive in places where that was the case.

On the other hand, a WEIRD tendency to believe in “internal attributions” leads to what psychologists call the “fundamental attribution error” (“the tendency for people to under-emphasize situational and environmental explanations for an individual's observed behavior while over-emphasizing dispositional and personality-based explanations”—Wikipedia). In the words of the Smithsonian poster, “you get what you deserve.” Thus, if a particular racial group is disproportionately poor, for example, it must be caused by an internal attribute of the people in the group.

On yet another hand, the principle of individual rights also grew out of the belief in internal attributes, according to Henrich. We see the right to a fair trial as an inherent right of every individual, not something to get or be denied because of membership in a group. You get the job because you are qualified, not because your uncle is doing the hiring. Once you concede the humanity of different-looking people, you have to acknowledge their inherent rights.

Thus, WEIRD culture is a mixed bag when it comes to inspiring antiracist attitudes.

Henrich’s theories may or may not be true but I found them persuasive, and also compatible with antiracism. For one thing, they offer a satisfying synthesis of the two sides in the debate over the 1619 Project. He offers something to those who point out the western character of anti-slavery abolitionism but he also explains how racism could persist in that same culture. And Henrich’s “WEIRD culture” offers much more ground for hope than the 1619 Project or the Afro-pessimist formulation of “white supremacy culture.” Hopelessness is the greatest foe of any kind of activism.

(Read about the 1619 conflict here.)

Second, Henrich dismisses biological or genetic explanations of human evolution as significant causes of differences among various groups of humans, focusing instead on how cultures evolved. Unlike biological evolution, cultural evolution assumes human equality. We are all, he argues, born with equally impressive brains that are designed to adapt to whatever environment we are born into. Plop any kind of kid with whatever skin color into any village and his psychology will develop in a way that is suited to thrive in that culture, just as well as anyone else. All human brains did evolve, he says, to be self-programmable, ready at birth to adapt to the social environment we face. (487) Not only is that argument persuasive, because it’s supported by so much documentary evidence; and not only does it undermine racist beliefs; but it also offers a great deal more hope for the survival and improvement of multi-racial democracy in the West.

But Henrich’s book should not be taken as the last word. In their just-released book on the history of Humanity, David Wengrow and the late David Graeber, say that new research that has been accumulating in recent decades “points towards a completely new account of how human societies developed over roughly the last 30,000 years. Almost all this research goes against the familiar narrative” and we are only in the very earliest states of incorporating this knowledge into an understanding of the broad sweep of human history.

I’ve only gotten through the first couple of chapters of their book, The Dawn of Everything, but I’m excited to find out how their version complicates the stories that Scott and Henrich have told.

NOTES AND SOURCES

(Go here for a guide, with links, to the essays in my series on teaching anti-racism)

Some of the books that have helped me think more globally

Joseph Henrich, The WEIRDest People in the World: How the West Became Phychologically Peculiar and Particularly Prosperous (New York, 2020). Henrich considers and persuasively dismisses the evidence that psychological differences among human groups are caused by genetic evolution. The inclination of WEIRD researchers believe in “internal attributions” leads them “to assume that any observed or inferred psychological differences among populations are due to genetic differences.” “It’s important to confront this possibility head-on,” he writes. He concludes that genetic evolution is too slow to account for all the differences we see across the globe. “The many lines of research explored in this book suggest that cultural processes have dominated the formation of the psychological diversity that is apparent around the globe as well as within Europe, China, and India.” See 481. On the fundamental attribution error, 386.

James C. Scott, Against The Grain: A Deep History of the Earliest States (2017) 

Anyone who is inclined to romanticize kin-based societies should read Mark S. Weiner, The Rule of the Clan: What an Ancient Form of Social Organization Reveals about the Future of Individual Freedom (2013). Weiner's eye-opening book offers a close up look at what justice looks like in kin-based societies. Like Henrich, he also acknowledges the appeal of kin-based societies and warns that modern individualistic societies are always in danger of reverting to tribalism. Liberal modernity, he argues, does not replace and eliminate the rule of the clan, it merely suppresses it and the "ache for everything that is lost" in the transition, is never fully overcome.  "Addressing that ache is an essential challenge for liberal society," he argues.  Intellectuals and artists, he says, seek to meet that challenge, "sometimes to liberalism's detriment, but sometimes by reimagining the clan in ways that advance and sustain the culture of the liberal rule of law" (168).

Sebastian Junger, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging, (2016) gives a vivid sense of the big hug that is missing in the modern west and how it is sometimes recreated in modern western societies.

Jared Diamond, Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies  (1997).

Daniel Lord Smail, On Deep History and the Brain (2007).

Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (2014).

John Keane, The Life and Death of Democracy (2009).

On the impact of eye-glasses on human progress and as a minor factor in European dominance, see David Landes, The Wealth and Poverty of Nations: Why Some are So Rich and Some So Poor (1995).

Reviews of WEIRD

This essay discusses the reception of Henrich’s 2010 paper—a prelude to the book—by other social scientists.

An essay here by Rob Henderson in a conservative publication offers a thorough, uncritical summary of the book. 

A New York Times review by Daniel Dennett, offers a good summary and speculates about its reception among other scholars, calling for respectful engagement and concluding: “This book calls out for respectful but ruthless vetting on all counts, and what it doesn’t need, and shouldn’t provoke, is ideological condemnations or quotations of brilliant passages by revered authorities. Are historians, economists and anthropologists up to the task? It will be fascinating to see.”

A review in EH Net—an economics history site—evaluating the book as a work of history. 

A Note on The Dawn of Everything

David Graeber and David Wengrow, The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity (2021). The authors devote a whole section of the book to Scott’s argument in Against the Grain, but Henrich ignores his work. Henrich and Graeber/Wengrow seem to be talking past each other. Their names don’t appear in each others’ indices nor is their scholarship listed in each other’s long bibliographies. Dawn is blurbed on the dust jacket by four luminaries on the academic left: Scott (“dazzling, original, and convincing”), Robin D.G. Kelley, Rebecca Solnit, and Noam Chomsky. The most recognizable name among Henrich’s blurbers, Francis Fukuyama, whose book on early humanity is held up by Graeber/Wengrow as a typical example of the wrong way to tell the story (9).

As we might expect from a further-left perspective, Graeber and Wengrow seem to have a more favorable view of non-western societies than Henrich or Weiner but they also seem to be moving away from Scott’s view of grain-based agriculture as a sharp dividing line between state and non-state societies. A key argument of Henrich is that socieites develop through a process of “cumulative cultural evolution” which individuals in the society are unaware of. The products of that process are “much smarter than we are. . . . Cultural evolution assemble highly adaptive and complex recipes, procedures, and tools over generations without anyone understanding how or why various elements are included.” Individuals to whom these products are handed down generally don’t understand how they work, so best not try to mess with them (66-67).

Graeber and Wengrow, argue that people are natural political philosophers, who over the millennia, have come up with all kinds of different ways to organize societies. The greatest mistakes that chroniclers of early humanity have made is to assume all the people living outside of states, civilizations, and without settled agriculture were simple primitives who lived natural lives. The chapter I just read resurrects a lost history of dialogue between early European explorers and colonizers and “indigenous intellectuals” of North America in which the Americans proved to be the superior debaters and who offered unanswerable and devastating critiques of European culture. The Wendat “philosopher statesman” Kandiaronk, for example, said “I have spent six years reflecting on the state of European society and I still can’t think of a single way they act that’s not inhuman,” and then spelled out how obsession with money led to a culture of “lasciviousness, intrigues, trickery, lies, betrayal, insincerity” (54-55).

The two books also differ in their views of the relative freedom of people in different cultures. Henrich sees democracy as a unique feature of WEIRD culture—it’s the D in WEIRD—along with individual rights and freedoms. He says they weren’t consciously developed by the political philosophers of the Enlightnment—“fancy intellectuals, philosophers, or theologians positing grand theories of ‘democracy,’ the ‘rule of law,’ or ‘human rights.’” Instead, they were an inadvertent product of the psychological changes caused by living in a WEIRD culture.

Graeber and Wengrow also demote fancy Enlightenment philosophers—they got their ideas about freedom from indigenous intellectuals of America. But the version of liberal democracy they came up with was vastly inferior to what the indigenous American practiced. All Europeans—rich and poor—were slaves to their material self-interests, engaged in endless competition over status and private property, subject to coercive hierarchies and punitive laws. Because indigenous peoples practiced a “baseline communism” in which, for example, “it would have been quite inconceivable to refuse a request for food,” they enjoyed a truer freedom. Their different experiences of freedom involved
very different concepts of individualism. Europeans were constantly squabbling for advantage; societies of the Northeast Woodlands, by contrast, guaranteed one another the means to an autonomous life—or at least ensured no man or woman was subordinated to any other. Insofar as we can speak of communism, it existed not in opposition to but in support of individual freedom.

Tema Okun and the Smithsonian would seem to be invoking this contrast in their critique of white culture. It seems doubtful, though, that she or anyone she has encountered in 21st century America has any direct experience of a culture like those of 16th and 17th century Northeast Woodlands peoples. 

One important thing that both books have in common is that they stand firmly against any kind of deterministic view of history or a notion that any outcome was or is inevitable. It think it’s also safe to say that they both see human societies perpetually in flux and that humans do have a big impact on their own history. Graeber and Wengrow, though, seem more optimistic about the ability of humans to consciously change their social arrangements for the better. The worst thing about modern WEIRD societies, they seem to be saying, is that they have forgotten that rich history and thus have an impoverished sense of how we could make things better. When I tell people that my daughter has joined a commune, they look at me with sympathy, as if the first thought that flashed through their minds was “Jonestown.” But if you read The Dawn of Everything, I think you will come away with the sense that what is weird about our modern world is not the rare commune that pops up, but the fact that there are so few of them. Having studied the rich history of those rare communal societies in America, I was not opposed to Emma joining this one, which I had read about—it’s been around for 50 years—but reading this book made me feel even better about it.

White Supremacy Culture

A Washington Post story about the Smithsonian controversy.

According to the museum’s interim director, the poster was derived from the book, White Awareness: Handbook For Anti-Racism Training, by Judith H. Katz (1978). The UMass professor’s review can be found on Amazon.

A black author reacted to the Smithsonian poster on CNN’s website: “There is no 'White culture,'” by Richard Thompson Ford, August 18, 2020

Tema Okun’s website, where she discusses how she wrote her original list, in 1997, at the end of a long day in the consulting salt mine in a “flurry of exasperation”: The list included “15 behaviors, all of them interconnected and mutually reinforcing–perfectionism, a sense of urgency, defensiveness and/or denial, quantity over quality, worship of the written word, the belief in one “right” way, paternalism, either/or binary thinking, power hoarding, fear of open conflict, individualism, progress defined as more, the right to profit, objectivity, and the right to comfort.” Also on the site, Okun acknowledges that her list often seems to do more harm than good, even in the workshops she runs. She never foresaw that 

people would take the analysis and framework we offered and use it to beat each other up—"My analysis is better than your analysis," "I am/we are more righteous than you." Similarly, some people report that this list gets used as a weapon to accuse, shame, and blame in ways that perpetuate disconnection. …
Another, a skilled facilitator, reports that "I could not possibly tally the number of hours I have spent over the last three years dislodging people from the reductive stance they construct based on the tool. In its current form, just to name one area, it tilts people towards a behavioral and ahistorical frame. And because it couches things in a way that can be read as absolutist, it can generate almost ridiculous orthodoxies of exclusion. I worked in one situation where the communications function had come to a grinding halt because a segment of the staff had decided that editing was white supremacist and, while yes, there are elitist and racist frames around proper language, the organization was locked in an either/or frame that was incredibly unhealthy and unproductive."
An activist talks about how the list has been used to scold white people, to tell white people we are inherently problematic and that our work, those of us who are white, is to never trust ourselves. A BIPOC person shares that the list is traumatizing and triggering.

Working with each other across lines of difference is really hard. We cause harm, we operate out of our conditioning, we are rightfully enraged, deeply hurt, exhausted.

See also, the website for a consultancy she is associated with.

Matt Yglesias’s critical essay on Tema Okun’s ideas. 

A couple of months after I posted this, the Caledonian-Record (I'm a subscriber), carried a page-one article about a St. Johnsbury, Vt. Chamber-of-Commerce-sponsored eight-months-long "racial literacy training" based on Okun's curriculum, led by Sha'an Mouliert.

*Whiteness Studies 

Whiteness studies became a booming subfield in American history and other disciplines in the 1990s. The ideas of Okun and the Smithsonian poster seem to have been influenced by that scholarship. The best known historical work in the field is David Roediger, The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class (1991). Whiteness scholars “proclaim their political commitments loudly and without hesitation” and adopt a tone of soul searching and “rhetorical rectitude,” according to a review article on the genre. They treat whiteness as a pathology—an “empty culture,” a “poisonous system of privilege.” One whiteness scholar wrote: “Exposing, analyzing, and eradicating this pathology is an obligation that we all share.” A pioneers of the field, Noel Ignatiev, author of How the Irish Became White , established a journal called Race Traitor , which sought to be “an intellectual center for those seeking to abolish the white race.” It’s motto: “Treason to whiteness is loyalty to humanity” (Eric Arnesen, “Whiteness and the Historians’ Imagination, International Labor and Working-Class History Fall, 2001, p. 8).

See also, Peter Kolchin, “White Studies: The New History of Race in America,” The Journal of American History, June, 2002, pp. 154-173. Whiteness scholars’ abandonment of the stance of academic objectivity anticipated Times reporter Wesley Lowrey’s more recent call for journalists to elevate moral clarity over objectivity. See Wesley Lowery, “A Reckoning over Objectivity, Led by Black Journalists,” New York Times, June 23, 2020. This move away from objectivity and toward advocacy journalism and scholarship is a function of the growing influence of post-modernist theories and Critical Race Theory, which sees methods of objective inquiry traditionally practiced by journalists and scholars as only serving the interests of the oppressive status quo. The logic of the argument is perhaps best captured in the title of a book by Audre Lorde: “The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House.”

Henrich’s failure to articulate a position of moral clarity, and his relentless use of statistical evidence and “objective” surveys may be another reason why his book is likely to be ignored or dismissed by antiracist theorists and advocates.

As I poked around the internet, I found this scholarly article, published in the Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association, in April 2021: “On Having Whiteness,” by Donald Moss. Like others, Moss doesn’t come out and say that whiteness is genetically or biologically determined, but it is, he writes, “foundational,” and, like original sin, has “no permanent cure.” That sounds pretty essentialist to me. Here is the abstract, in full:

Whiteness is a condition one first acquires and then one has—a malignant, parasitic-like condition to which "white" people have a particular susceptibility. The condition is foundational, generating characteristic ways of being in one's body, in one's mind, and in one's world. Parasitic Whiteness renders its hosts' appetites voracious, insatiable, and perverse. These deformed appetites particularly target nonwhite peoples. Once established, these appetites are nearly impossible to eliminate. Effective treatment consists of a combination of psychic and social-historical interventions. Such interventions can reasonably aim only to reshape Whiteness's infiltrated appetites—to reduce their intensity, redistribute their aims, and occasionally turn those aims toward the work of reparation. When remembered and represented, the ravages wreaked by the chronic condition can function either as warning ("never again") or as temptation ("great again"). Memorialization alone, therefore, is no guarantee against regression. There is not yet a permanent cure.
Back to text.

Tuesday, October 26, 2021

1619: Teaching history, teaching contingency

The book version of the 1619 project, scheduled for publication Nov. 16.

"I can understand pessimism, but I don’t believe in it. It’s not simply a matter of faith, but of historical evidence. Not overwhelming evidence, just enough to give hope, because for hope we don’t need certainty, only possibility." Howard Zinn 

On August 14th, 2019, a stark black-and-white photograph of an ominous gray sky above a choppy, even more ominous and darker-gray ocean appeared on the front cover of the New York Times Magazine behind these words:

In August of 1619, a ship appeared on this horizon, near Point Comfort, a coastal port in the British colony of Virginia. It carried more than 20 enslaved Africans, who were sold to the colonists. America was not yet America, but this was the moment it began. No aspect of the country that would be formed here has been untouched by the 250 years of slavery that followed. On the 400th anniversary of this fateful moment, it is finally time to tell our story truthfully. (For links to this and all other sources in this essay, see this post)

Thus opened another front in the Great American Culture War.

On 100 pages inside appeared 10 major essays along with photographs, poems and works of fiction. As promised in the introductory paragraph, the essays connected everything about America—including the Revolution, the character of American capitalism, the lack of Universal Health Care, and even "the reactionary politics of 2019"—to race, or slavery or African-Americans.

Later, the Times launched a "1619 project curriculum," an ambitious effort to distribute extra copies of the magazine to public schools, libraries, and museums. In collaboration with the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting it created a massive free website filled with resources for educators at all levels, from elementary school to college. By the summer of 2020, the center announced that more than 3,500 classrooms were making use of the materials.

High praise appeared across mainstream media.

The Columbia Journalism Review commended the Times for pointing readers “toward a richer understanding of today's racial dilemmas.” The Washington Post described the Project as “a collection of smart, provocative magazine articles about the ways slavery shaped our nation.” Celebrated filmmaker Ava DuVernay, called the project "a staggering, transformative endeavor” by a “dazzling array of thinkers.” And the National Catholic Reporter called on readers to "demand that your school—public, private, Catholic or other religious institution, charter or home—include the curriculum as a required course of study."

In May of 2020 Nikole Hannah-Jones won the Pulitzer Prize for commentary for her introductory essay, "America Wasn't a Democracy Until Black Americans Made It One."

The award committee praised her “sweeping, provocative and personal essay” and the project as a whole as a “ground-breaking” effort “to place the enslavement of Africans at the center of America’s story, prompting public conversation about the nation’s founding and evolution.”

And public conversation ensued.

Beginning in October of 1619, prominent and well respected American historians, led by Sean Wilenz, began to weigh in with criticisms of the project, first in interviews on the World Socialist Website, then in essays in the New York Review of Books, the Atlantic, Politico and even on the New York Times op-ed page. While most of the critics were white, a few prominent Black academics, including Claiborne Carson, editor of the Martin Luther King papers, Leslie Harris, an expert on American slavery at Northwestern, and the Marxist political scientist Adolph Reed Jr., also weighed in. Black women seemed less inclined than the men to come out against the project. Harris’s piece in Politico was more critical of the critics than the Project itself. 

Nell Irving Painter questioned the key fact that forms the premise of the project—that the 20 African arrivals in 1619 were enslaved—but declined to sign a letter with other critical historians. Barbara Fields, the only historian with a doctorate who appeared in Ken Burns’ 1980s Civil War documentary, declined to do an interview with the World Socialist Website. In an apparently private email, though, she called the project “tendentious and ignorant history” that failed to incorporate the works of key scholarship on slavery, especially Edmund Morgan’s, American Slavery, American Freedom. The project was a product of “neo-liberal politics,” she wrote, echoing Reed, who said it supported a “neoliberal” vision of social justice, in which “a society qualifies as being just if 1 percent of the population controls 90 percent of the wealth,” as long as the ethnic makeup of the 1 percent matches the ethnic makeup of the general population. The politics of these critics ranged from Marxist left to the mainstream of the Democratic Party.

Battle lines in the Great American Culture War do not break down along neat partisan lines. All the critics mentioned so far almost certainly vote the straight Democratic ticket as do the supporters of the project. But even within the broad left, those folks don’t line up into the categories you’d expect: center-left-moderate-Clinton Democrats versus far-left-socialist-Sanders Democrats. Marxist scholars like Reed and Fields, staunch supports of Bernie Sanders in the last two presidential primaries, joined the chorus of 1619 critics with people like Sean Wilentz, an outspoken anti-Sanders supporter of Hillary Clinton.

The Times resisted every effort from this group to correct or retract any part of the Project until it heard from Danielle Allen, a Black Harvard Classics Scholar and self-proclaimed lover of democracy who has recently announced her candidacy for Governor of Massachusetts. According to the Post, in February of 2020, she emailed Jones and project editor, Jake Silverstein, threatening to publicly denounce the project unless the Times corrected one of its most contentious claims about the Revolution, that a “primary” motive was to protect slavery against British abolitionists. The Times printed a clarification (labeled as an "editors' note”) saying that only “some” colonists rebelled for that reason. Jones has said she stands by the original wording. (Another publication attributes the change to a forum made up of historians who were supporters of the Project.)

Of course the fight over 1619 also got tangled up in partisan politics. In July of 2020 Republican Senator Tom Cotton called the project “a radical work of historical revisionism aiming to indoctrinate our kids to hate America” and introduced the "Saving American History Act," which would have made schools that use the 1619 Project in their curriculum ineligible for federal professional development funds. In September of that year President Trump threatened to withhold federal education funds from California if its Department of Education used 1619 materials in public school curricula and in November he launched the 1776 Commission to develop a "patriotic curriculum."

Joe Biden abolished the ’76 Commission on Inauguration Day and in April his Department of Education announced that its number-one priority for American History and Civics K-12 Education Programs would be to advance “the ongoing national reckoning with systemic racism" by funding grants to teachers and students that incorporate “diverse perspectives into teaching and learning in public schools" and singled out two such perspectives: Ibram X. Kendi’s How to Be an Antiracist, and the 1619 Project.

A day after the new history and civics priorities were announced, Republican Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell condemned them as "politicized and divisive" and singled out the 1619 Project, which he said was filled with "divisive, radical, and historically dubious buzzwords and propaganda," teaching "that our country is inherently evil."

Controversies involving the teaching of race-related issues in the schools have continued to get plenty of attention, but battles over “critical race theory” have overshadowed 1619 recently. Still, Jones has continued to be something of a lightning rod, via her high-profile Twitter presence, the University of North Carolina’s decision to deny her tenure, and more recently the decision of a private school in Massachusetts to revoke an invitation for her to speak. And you can be sure that the battle over 1619 will heat up again next month when an expanded version of the project comes out in book form, with the subtitle—“A New Origin Story.”

As I’ve followed this controversy over the past year or so, I’ve been asking myself: What does any of this have to do with the actual teaching of American history in actual classrooms with actual students, which is what I do at work every day? I am committed to the principle that a proper education must be non-partisan, that we teach students how to think, but not what to think, that education is not indoctrination, and I would prefer to ignore partisan—or even academic, partisan-adjacent—debates over the content of my courses. I don’t start my yearly survey of US history in 1619 or 1776, and I’m hoping no one tries to make me.

But the daily newspapers are full of stories about local school board meetings broken up over mask and vaccine mandates, gender policies, and critical race theory. Clearly, education is a battleground and we history teachers are on the front lines. And though private school teachers don’t have public school boards and contentious public meetings to contend with, or state boards of education banning “divisive concepts,” we are not immune from non-history teachers taking an interest in what we teach.

The battle lines seem to be different in private than in public schools. The anti-1619 and CRT forces that are inspired by Fox News may get the upper hand in public schools, at least in the red states. But here, most of the pressure is coming from the other side. The Board of Trustees where I teach has declared us to be an “antiracist school,” and social justice oriented alumni groups, donors, student activists, and a growing body of “diversity equity and inclusion” administrators direct their attention from time-to-time at the history curriculum.

I can imagine that our Trustees would agree with the Biden administration in seeing the 1619 Project as a model for anti-racist history and might write off critics as defenders of a whitewashed version of American history. Ibram X. Kendi, who has spoken at our school, preaches that every policy is either racist or antiracist and you always have to pick a side.

Some 1619 defenders have dismissed critical historians as being too white (AHA) or as “turf-guarding academics" (WAPost) acting in bad faith. The attack on critics of the project was joined by no less an authority than Alex Lichtenstein, the editor of the leading journal of American historians, the American Historical Review, who said the “motley crew” of historian-critics were seeking to discredit a valuable contribution to the discussion of slavery by blowing a small number of “disputable errors” and overstatements out of proportion, perhaps because they were offended that “journalists are practicing history without a license.” 

But Lichtenstein concedes the validity of some of their points, citing the following flaws:

  • The Times’ claim to be making a “radical reorientation” by putting African Americans at the center of American history, which has been a long-term trend in the academy. (For example).
  • “Substituting dramatic overstatement for historical analysis.”
  • Treating “American slavery in isolation from” slavery in the “larger Atlantic World.”
  • “Emphasis on continuity (especially in economic history), rather than change.”
  • The substitution of “race” for class.

Such imperfections, Lichtenstein writes, should “not suffice to dismiss the project in its entirety,” and most criticism seems to have focused on just two essays, Jones’ long opening essay, and Matthew Desmond’s piece on economics, while essays on sugar, Wall Street, urban sprawl, music, public health, and mass incarceration have received little scrutiny and criticism.

Historians will argue over facts and how to interpret them. Politicians will politicize anything and everything. I’m more interested in how the Project is likely to affect the teaching of US history in the schools. There’s plenty of reason to expect a positive impact. The writing is eloquent, it makes valuable documents accessible, and its arguments are often compelling. And if the Times’ claims about the poor quality of teaching about slavery in the nation’s schools are true, then that influence is sorely needed.

And that influence is likely to be immense, whether it is positive or otherwise, given the Times’ status as the nation’s newspaper of record, the endorsement of the project by the Pulitzer committee, and Jones’ tireless promotion of it (on Twitter and in speaking engagements so numerous that she had to hire an assistant to manage her schedule), along with the well-publicized proliferation of companion materials for educators and the soon-to-be released book version. So, what will history education look like in schools that not only adopt 1619 materials but embrace the larger assumptions embedded in the project—assumptions about the nature of progress, human agency, and cause-and-effect?

Connected to these assumptions is a tension between inevitability and contingency. In my experience, students are predisposed to see history as a sequence of events that people had little control over. The Anti-federalist must have been wrong because they lost the debate over the Constitution; the Civil War was inevitable as soon as the ink was dry on the Declaration of Independence; neither Roosevelt nor Truman could have avoided a Cold War with the Soviet Union. I try to poke holes in their fatalism by asking them whether they think their own destinies are inevitable, that their fate is immune to their efforts, which at my school are prodigious. “Do you not have power to shape your chances of getting into the college of your choice?” I ask them. This leads at least a few to concede that people living in the past might also have had some influence over how things turned out.

The 1619 Project strikes a blow against inevitability bias when it pokes holes in the view that progress toward ever greater democracy and freedom in the US has followed an undeniable “arc of justice” set in motion by the American Revolution. Defenders of the Times’ project accuse its critics of a facile faith in that arc, and of overestimating racial progress.

But in its zeal to tear down that narrative, the Project falls into its own, even more corrosive inevitability bias. To her credit, Jones refers to the story of African-American activism as one of “astounding progress,” but overall, the Project, like much of the recent discourse on race in America, leaves a different impression. It focuses more on culture and society than politics, does not have much to say about moments of progress—like the ending of slavery in Northern states after the revolution, the anti-slavery movement, the Civil War, and the Civil Rights Movement—and largely avoids mention of those who fought courageously and sometimes successfully to advance justice and equality. Inspirational models of citizenship like Frederick Douglass and Martin Luther King are barely mentioned; Harriet Tubman, A. Philip Randolph, Ella Baker, Rosa Parks, and Bayard Rustin are not mentioned at all.*

This gloomier view has become increasingly popular on the American left. It is expressed most conspicuously by a group of writers who control the discourse on race in the current moment. They include Ta-Nehesi Coates, whose analysis of the 2016 election results and best-selling book Between the World and Me, are studies in pessimism about American race relations; Isabella Wilkerson, who compares America’s racial “caste system” to a clever software program that continually “adjusts to the updated needs of the operating system” and holds us, apparently helpless, in the grip of racism; Robin DiAngelo, who tells white people at her workshops not to speak because even their well-intentioned comments are likely to harm black people; and Kendi, whose book on the history of racism, Stamped from the Beginning, finds racism lurking in the hearts of just about everyone, including William Lloyd Garrison, Lincoln, Frederick Douglass, Susan B. Anthony, W.E.B. Du Bois, Harriet Beecher Stowe, John Hope Franklin, Earl Warren, Barack Obama, and even Kendi himself. In these authors’ “grim view”  of history, every effort to purge racism from our operating system seems destined to nullification by Wilkerson’s diabolical software program and no good deed is untainted by racism, which is an essential element of our hardware.

Jones makes the same point with a DNA analogy, and Times editor Jake Silverstein reaches back to an older biological metaphor. The arrival of those 20 Africans, he writes in his introduction to the 1619 essays, planted a seed that grew into “nearly everything that has truly made America exceptional.” But if it is inaccurate to assume that the words “all men are created equal” led in a straight line to the Civil Rights Act of 1964, it seems equally unlikely that 1619 led in a straight line to America’s “economic might, its industrial power, its electoral system, its diet and popular music, the inequities of its public health and education, its astonishing penchant for violence, its income inequality, the example it sets for the world as a land of freedom and equality, its slang, its legal system and the endemic racial fears and hatreds that continue to plague it to this day.”

Metaphors can clarify at the same time that they distort. Seed, software and DNA metaphors obscure the role of contingency and human agency and how choices matter—not just at one point in time, but at every moment. The arrival of Africans in Virginia in 1619 would not be worth noting if the supply of unfree labor from England hadn’t dried up in the later 17th century. “All men are created equal” might have been an ideological dead end if it weren’t for Frederick Douglass’s agitation, John Brown’s raid on Harper’s Ferry, Lincoln’s proclamation of Emancipation, the Radical Republicans’ Reconstruction Amendments, A. Philip Randolph’s fight for labor rights, Bayard Rustin’s schooling of Martin Luther King Jr. in non-violent strategy, and President Johnson’s masterful legislative wrangling. Thousands of seeds are planted. Only ones we nurture will grow. You can always find an antecedent for some contemporary phenomenon. But giving too much attention to one origin-story needle in the haystack of human experience to explain a contemporary problem—or every problem—is to fall prey to presentism fallacy.

Even at Phillips Exeter, where virtually every student will go on to college, I know that high school will likely be the only time they take a full-year survey of American history. And with the decline of civics education, the 11th grade US history course may be the best chance that American educators have to impress upon their students a sense of what it means to be a democratic citizen of this country. I fear that presenting students with the deterministic sense of fatalism that would seem to flow from essentialist notions of society like the seed metaphor, while deemphasizing the good that past victories have achieved will foster nihilism and hopelessness about the possibility that citizens can have an impact on the course of future events.

History does not have one determinative starting point. It has many key moments and progress is neither inevitable nor impossible. It is always shaped by human action or inaction. Students don’t need a new origin story, or more seed metaphors or theoretical frameworks. They need to study what happened in the past over the long sweep of time, in as much detail as possible, to develop an appreciation of contingency and the role that actual humans can play in the story. Only immersion in the details of history will show them what sort of efforts succeeded or failed, what sort of factors were out of human control, and the degree to which people like them can actually have an impact. Sometimes society seems to resist the most heroic efforts to improve things or it responds to them so slowly as to be imperceptible, and usually in ways no one anticipated. Methods that work in one situation fail miserably under different circumstances. And perhaps most maddeningly of all, any positive advance can be undone by reactionary backlash. Too often, it seems, a step forward is followed by two back.

Some of us will look at this messy story and decide that collective action and political engagement in such causes as anti-racism just aren’t worth the sacrifice and retreat into private life where they have more direct control. Booker T. Washington made a career of advocating that course for Black Americans during the Jim Crow era. And let’s face it: most of us do that most of the time. But a history class should not encourage that outcome by relentlessly focusing too-insistently on the bad outcomes and shining a light into the dark corners of the souls of mostly well-intentioned reformers. Within the bounds of truth, we should give our students ample evidence to suggest that cynicism about human nature, democracy and citizenship may not be warranted.

Everyone will see the arc of history bending in a different direction. I want my students to be able to come up with their own metaphors to describe it, whichever way they see it bending. But as I assemble my syllabi, I want to make sure they have plenty of fodder to support the conclusion that engagement in public life is worth their time and effort, though there will be plenty that points in the other direction. I don’t want to give them false hope or unwarranted optimism, but they should at least come away with a sense of possibility.


Note: *I haven’t conducted my own content analysis of the 1619 Project, so I’m relying on reviews by others.  Those sources will be listed in a forthcoming post on this blog. 

(For links to these reviews and all other sources consulted for this essay, see this separate post)


Friday, July 31, 2020

John Lewis's unwavering democratic faith

John Lewis 1964
From the Library of Congress
Three of the top six opinion pieces on the New York Times’ smartphone app this morning explored the political legacy of the late civil rights activist/congressman John Lewis. Neither the Wall Street Journal nor the Washington Post had a single opinion piece on Lewis similarly positioned. That’s too bad. Every American, left, right, and center should be able to agree on the citizenship values Lewis embodied: peaceful resolution of differences, empathy for political rivals, a willingness to forgive, and a faith in the fundamental decency of fellow human beings. The opinion editors of the Journal and the Post may be too busy prosecuting a culture war that seems to reject these values and assumptions to bother to reflect too much on Lewis’s legacy.

After a bit more hunting, I did find two letters-to-the-editor in the Journal, which concisely capture Lewis’s democratic (small-d) spirit.

One, by Jesse Uman, a former congressional aide, told the story of a visit to Lewis’s office by Elwin Wilson, one of the youthful thugs who threw the first punches at Freedom Riders in Rock Hill, South Carolina in 1961. According to Civil Rights Movement chronicler Taylor Branch, Wilson and his buddies, who used the Greyhound bus station as a hangout, took a break from their pinball tournament when Lewis and the Freedom Riders walked through the “whites only” entrance. Young men like Wilson, Branch wrote, “had become the scourge of the sit-in movement” a year earlier. When Lewis, who had maneuvered himself in front of the line of Freedom Riders, refused to retreat to the “Colored entrance,” one of the hoodlums—apparently Wilson—“threw a punch that caught Lewis in the mouth, making the first loud pop of fist against flesh on the Freedom Ride.” Wilson’s punch would be the first of many.

Ulman described the meeting of Wilson and Lewis in 2009:

Rep. Lewis and Mr. Wilson shook hands, and as they did Rep. Lewis embraced Mr. Wilson. They hugged. Their eyes filled with tears and there was silence. The congressman and Mr. Wilson spent over an hour together talking, being interviewed and looking at civil-rights memorabilia. Mr. Wilson apologized; Rep. Lewis forgave. He had an unwavering faith in the goodness in all humans. The congressman used to say that “every baby is born with love in their heart.”

Mr. Wilson told Rep. Lewis that he couldn’t take hate and violence to the grave with him, and that he didn’t want his grandchildren to remember him as a racist and man of violence. Rep. Lewis told him that “hate is too heavy a burden to bear.”

The other letter writer, James Nobles, said of Lewis:

Never giving into hate, he advocated for change through peace and unity, something that has been lost in today’s social discourse.

And while one might disagree with some of Rep. Lewis’s political positions, no one of moral character could ever deny the goodness of this man. . . . The best way we can honor Lewis is to discard our anger, resign from divisiveness, forgive others, treat everyone with dignity and respect and stand as one America. 

Sunday morning, while I was driving through the beautiful countryside of New Hampshire’s White Mountains on a sunny day, Krista Tippett’s 2018 interview with Lewis came on my radio and I thought, I wish every American was listening to this now. Somehow, a man who had been thrown in jail 40 times by the democratically elected legal authorities of various American states for trying to exercise his most basic Constitutional rights could retain both a patriotic love of country and an unwavering faith in democracy. Speaking of his involvement in the Civil Rights Movement, he said:

When we were sitting in, it was love in action. When we went on the freedom ride, it was love in action. The march from Selma to Montgomery was love in action. We do it not simply because it’s the right thing to do, but it’s love in action. That we love our country, we love a democratic society, and so we have to move our feet.

Monday, June 22, 2020

Solidarity Now?

Source: Manitowoc Herald Times Reporter, Wisconsin


Even the celebrated Afro-pessimist, Ta-Nehisi Coates, has found cause for hope in the current protests over the police killing of George Floyd. In an interview with Ezra Klein,  he pointed out a stark and promising difference between the rebellions in American cities in the 1960s and these ones: the participation of white people.

Have we finally solved one of the great problems of American history—the disunity of the working class? Many historians, especially on the left, are obsessed with this question. During my Ph.D. oral exams, one of my tormentors asked: who wrote “Why is There No Socialism in the United States?” (Answer: Werner Sombart). Another author posed the question this way:
Why is the United States the only advanced capitalist country with no labor party? This question is one of the great enduring puzzles of American political development, and it lies at the heart of a fundamental debate about the nature of American society.
Those of us who think it would be good if you could hang on to your health insurance when you get laid off in a pandemic, or who wish they could join a union at work (almost five times as many as now belong to one, according to this article) think that these are important questions, and some of us suspect they are connected to another oft-asked question about our history: where does American racism come from?

One such person was Martin Luther King, Jr. who outlined a theory that simultaneously addressed both questions in a speech at one of the important milestones of the Civil Rights Movement. Here is an extended excerpt from that speech, delivered in Montgomery Alabama, on March 25, 1965 at the conclusion of the Selma to Montgomery March.  (Audience reactions are in parentheses) 
The confrontation of good and evil compressed in the tiny community of Selma (Speak, speak) generated the massive power (Yes, sir. Yes, sir) to turn the whole nation to a new course. A president born in the South (Well) had the sensitivity to feel the will of the country, (Speak, sir) and in an address that will live in history as one of the most passionate pleas for human rights ever made by a president of our nation, he pledged the might of the federal government to cast off the centuries-old blight. President Johnson rightly praised the courage of the Negro for awakening the conscience of the nation. (Yes, sir)
On our part we must pay our profound respects to the white Americans who cherish their democratic traditions over the ugly customs and privileges of generations and come forth boldly to join hands with us. (Yes, sir) From Montgomery to Birmingham, (Yes, sir) from Birmingham to Selma, (Yes, sir) from Selma back to Montgomery, (Yes) a trail wound in a circle long and often bloody, yet it has become a highway up from darkness. (Yes, sir) Alabama has tried to nurture and defend evil, but evil is choking to death in the dusty roads and streets of this state. (Yes, sir. Speak, sir) So I stand before you this afternoon (Speak, sir. Well) with the conviction that segregation is on its deathbed in Alabama, and the only thing uncertain about it is how costly the segregationists and Wallace will make the funeral. (Go ahead. Yes, sir) [Applause]
Our whole campaign in Alabama has been centered around the right to vote. In focusing the attention of the nation and the world today on the flagrant denial of the right to vote, we are exposing the very origin, the root cause, of racial segregation in the Southland. Racial segregation as a way of life did not come about as a natural result of hatred between the races immediately after the Civil War. There were no laws segregating the races then. And as the noted historian, C. Vann Woodward, in his book, The Strange Career of Jim Crow, clearly points out, the segregation of the races was really a political stratagem employed by the emerging Bourbon interests in the South to keep the southern masses divided and southern labor the cheapest in the land. You see, it was a simple thing to keep the poor white masses working for near-starvation wages in the years that followed the Civil War. Why, if the poor white plantation or mill worker became dissatisfied with his low wages, the plantation or mill owner would merely threaten to fire him and hire former Negro slaves and pay him even less. Thus, the southern wage level was kept almost unbearably low.

Toward the end of the Reconstruction era, something very significant happened. (Listen to him) That is what was known as the Populist Movement. (Speak, sir) The leaders of this movement began awakening the poor white masses (Yes, sir) and the former Negro slaves to the fact that they were being fleeced by the emerging Bourbon interests. Not only that, but they began uniting the Negro and white masses (Yeah) into a voting bloc that threatened to drive the Bourbon interests from the command posts of political power in the South.

To meet this threat, the southern aristocracy began immediately to engineer this development of a segregated society. (Right) I want you to follow me through here because this is very important to see the roots of racism and the denial of the right to vote. Through their control of mass media, they revised the doctrine of white supremacy. They saturated the thinking of the poor white masses with it, (Yes) thus clouding their minds to the real issue involved in the Populist Movement. They then directed the placement on the books of the South of laws that made it a crime for Negroes and whites to come together as equals at any level. (Yes, sir) And that did it. That crippled and eventually destroyed the Populist Movement of the nineteenth century.

If it may be said of the slavery era that the white man took the world and gave the Negro Jesus, then it may be said of the Reconstruction era that the southern aristocracy took the world and gave the poor white man Jim Crow. (Yes, sir) He gave him Jim Crow. (Uh huh) And when his wrinkled stomach cried out for the food that his empty pockets could not provide, (Yes, sir) he ate Jim Crow, a psychological bird that told him that no matter how bad off he was, at least he was a white man, better than the black man. (Right sir) And he ate Jim Crow. (Uh huh) And when his undernourished children cried out for the necessities that his low wages could not provide, he showed them the Jim Crow signs on the buses and in the stores, on the streets and in the public buildings. (Yes, sir) And his children, too, learned to feed upon Jim Crow, (Speak) their last outpost of psychological oblivion. (Yes, sir)

Thus, the threat of the free exercise of the ballot by the Negro and the white masses alike (Uh huh) resulted in the establishment of a segregated society. They segregated southern money from the poor whites; they segregated southern mores from the rich whites; (Yes, sir) they segregated southern churches from Christianity (Yes, sir); they segregated southern minds from honest thinking; (Yes, sir) and they segregated the Negro from everything. (Yes, sir) That’s what happened when the Negro and white masses of the South threatened to unite and build a great society: a society of justice where none would prey upon the weakness of others; a society of plenty where greed and poverty would be done away; a society of brotherhood where every man would respect the dignity and worth of human personality. (Yes, sir)

We’ve come a long way since that travesty of justice was perpetrated upon the American mind….
King was hopeful that finally, the American working class might unite. You can understand his optimism in this moment, before George Wallace ran one of the most successful third-party presidential campaigns in American history, stoking a mostly working class (mostly white) backlash against the Civil Rights Movement, feminism, the anti-war movement, college students, rising crime rates, urban disorders, and Black Nationalism.  That was 1968. As of March, 1965, when King spoke in Montgomery, white people had participated significantly in the freedom rides and the Mississippi Freedom Summer, and a president from a former slave state had put his full support behind the Voting Rights Act of 1965, saying in a televised address to the nation: “it is not just Negroes, but really it is all of us, who must overcome the crippling legacy of bigotry and injustice.”

For those of us who believe in democracy, it was one of the most hopeful moments in American history, alongside Congress's endorsement in 1776 of the phrase “All men are created Equal,” and the 1863 delivery of a presidential proclamation abolishing slavery as an “act of justice.”

After Selma, King began to shift his focus from legal rights for African Americans to economic progress for all of America’s poor people. In 1968, his Southern Christian Leadership Conference launched a national “Poor People’s Campaign,” which “demanded economic and human rights for poor Americans of diverse backgrounds.” And King died while organizing a union for garbage collectors in Memphis. (The union was AFSCME, which my white father belonged to at the time.) 

King’s hopeful moment in 1965 evaporated in the upheavals of the late 60s—in Vietnam, violent urban uprisings, assassinations, and a conservative political wave. 

There is reason to think that the current moment of hope on the left will be more resistant to a “white backlash” that divides the working class. A poll taken June 10-12 found that 64 percent of Americans support the protests of the George Floyd killing.  By contrast, 60 percent of Americans said they had an unfavorable view of the totally peaceful 1963 March on Washington at the time,  which featured King’s “I have a Dream” speech, perhaps the most inspiring oration in human history. (Link: more polling data on public opinion of Civil Rights Movement.)

We would do well, however, to never underestimate the power of race to divide the American working class. 

In a recent interview with Anderson Cooper, Cornel West expressed his hope for positive outcomes out of the current protests, but concluded with the caution of someone who has been down this road before:
We’ve got hope in the form of motion, but we have to get ready for the backlash. We have to get ready for the neo-fascist clamp down, because it’s coming. It is coming.
In his book, Future-Focused History Teaching, Mike Maxwell argues that the purpose of studying history is to reveal principles that will guide us in the present as we try to shape the future. It’s not that history repeats itself, but we can find patterns that tend to recur. Awareness of those tendencies is one of the great sources of wisdom about human affairs and effective citizenship.

West understands one of the recurring patterns in American history, that the class of people King referred to as “Bourbon interests” have often been successful at driving a wedge between different groups of working class people—especially black and white—to prevent them from forming a solid block that might pass legislation to make America more equitable, and redistribute power and prosperity downward.  And of course, the  working class does have divergent interests, so solidarity is always fragile.

The question for the marchers and the organizers, for the leaders of BLM and other organizations in the struggle, is how to organize a wedge-resistant movement.  So far so good. After an initial burst of anger led to a round of arson and looting, the protests have become generally peaceful and orderly—a contrast to the overreaction of law enforcement—the tear gas, the rubber bullets, the bullying of the press—and public support has increased.

I would like to suggest that an even more powerful way of solidifying white support would be to emphasize the ways in which the aims of the movement are good for white Americans too.

For example, although America’s obsession with law and order has led to a disproportionate impact on black people, it has also harmed white people significantly. According to the Washington Post, in 2019, police shot 10 unarmed black people and 20 unarmed white people. Statistics on total killings of unarmed people at the hands of police are harder to come by, but one database that includes statistics on shootings and deaths like George Floyd’s estimates that 28 black people and 51 whites were killed by police that year.

Of course, African Americans make up only 13 percent of the population and they accounted for 35 percent of those deaths. But are the 51 white people who were killed inconsequential? Would be we happy if those numbers were proportional to population? If 10 unarmed black people—13 percent of the total—were killed in 2019 and 69 whites? Or is the total number—79—just too big no matter the color of the victims?

Conservatives would have us believe that these rates are perfectly acceptable given the relative rates  of violent crime in black and white communities. 

But according to statistics I found on Wikipedia—at “killings by law enforcement officers by country”—the US ranked 21st out of 60 countries with 46.6 killings per 10 million people. If you look at only the nations with advanced industrial economies, the US is in a class by itself. Canada was the closest, with 9.7 killings per 10 million. Germany had 1.3; France 3.8; the UK .5. These discrepancies are similar to what we see with incarceration rates.

Though African Americans also make up a disproportionate number America’s incarcerated, the rate for just whites—306 per 100,000—is anywhere from 15 times (Germany) to twice (England and Wales) the incarceration rate in comparable countries. (According to my very rough calculations based on numbers from Pew and Wikipedia.) And some studies suggest that class may be a more significant factor in who is jailed than race—or at least that it is not irrelevant.  

I recently posted this cartoon on my facebook page:



Perhaps, though, the answer to “All Lives Matter” should be more along the lines of: good point; white people are also victims of our national obsession with law and order: let’s address the problems of mass incarceration and aggressive policing in a way that benefits all Americans. The BLM movement might even post a few pictures of white people killed by police on its site.

It seems likely that my fellow human beings are, on average, at least as good and decent as I am, in which case, they take the rights of their fellow citizens and what they perceive to be the common good into consideration when casting their votes and acting as citizens. But self-interest also comes into the equation.

King understood this, as did his rivals in the Black Power movements of the late 1960s, who said: “No group should go into an alliance or a coalition relying on the ‘good will’ of the ally…. All parties to the coalition must perceive a mutually beneficial goal based on the conception of each party of his own self-interest.”

My daughter, Lindsey Jordan, recently wrote a long piece on Instagram addressing the question of why George Floyd’s death has inspired so many white people to come out on the streets—more than after previous killings of black people by police.

I think the biggest reason white people care more right now, is because for the first time white people feel a general sense of fear, unrest, and confinement themselves. They too feel fear when walking out of their houses, or unease at the anger of others and how strangers might perceive them and their choices. Inequality in the US at the moment is on full display and it’s harder to not acknowledge how little power we have and how little we are looked after when our government is so slow to take action and the public suffers financially while the biggest corporations and the richest people benefit. Now everyone in the US can more so sympathize with (or are at least more so forced to confront) what black and brown people feel all the time— and I think without completely realizing it, the distress and frustration and anger and confusion and helplessness white people feel as a result of this pandemic is causing us to empathize more, and understand more how distressing and immediate the problem of racism is. A country that is willing to kill and beat its citizens, one that lets the people that commit these atrocities go unpunished, is also a country willing to let its people down— and not take care of them— during a global pandemic.

Lindsey’s analysis is backed up by this comment from a listener of the NPR podcast Code Switch:

During COVID I've also felt a physical vulnerability in the face of the virus that's made me more empathetic and shifted my priorities to some degree…. In some ways I think that increased vulnerability has also re-sensitized me toward images of violence against black bodies, which my privilege had allowed me to tune out to some degree before.

The Code Switch hosts and their guest, Nicole Fisher, ended the podcast on a pessimistic note—they wished white people were acting out of a nobler set of motives than self-interest, or the irrational feelings that Fisher says arise during quarantines and have stimulated rioting and protests in many quarantines past. I guess I’m more cynical than them about human motivation, because I don't tend to trust coalitions built on selflessness or piety.

Past interracial coalitions and movements like the Populist Party of the 1890s that King spoke of have fallen apart when white people came to see their self-interests as in conflict with the interests of black folk. The concept of “loss aversion” helps us see why. According to one definition,  it’s “a cognitive bias that suggests that for individuals the pain of losing is psychologically twice as powerful as the pleasure of gaining.” This is why revolutions generally arise from groups of relatively well-off people—people who have something to lose. The American rebels of 1776 were some of the most prosperous people on the planet at the time.

And sometimes perceptions matter more than reality. Black and white sharecroppers in the 1890s unified because they shared common economic interests—they were both victims of a system of agricultural labor that was not that much better than slavery. But propagandists managed to convince them that what W.E.B. Du Bois called the psychological wage of racism—the feeling of being superior to all black people and some concrete benefits that came with it—was more valuable than escaping the sharecropping system. It’s hard to imagine that such propaganda could be as successful today. We live in very different times. But you never know.

Enough blue collar union democrats drifted away from the Democratic Party and the New Deal coalition in the 1970s to make the rise of Reagan conservatism possible. The causes of that drift are complicated and it’s impossible to separate them, but most historians (though not all ) think race played some role—that the so-called “Southern Strategy” was parallel to the Bourbon appeal to white sharecroppers in the 1890s.

So, as always, we are left with questions. Will this moment of apparent interracial unity be more long-lasting than similar moments in the past? Will the black and white protesters form the core of a political coalition that holds together long enough to elect a government that will support policies that address the unease of both white and black protesters? And among the white majority of American voters, what combination of rational and irrational, self-interested and altruistic motives will somehow come together in the weeks and months and years ahead. It’s good to feel hopeful, but better to have a plan that is informed by reality, how people behave, how things really work in a democracy and what the lessons of history suggest.


Some related readings

Carol Anderson, White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide.

Mike Maxwell, Future-Focused History Teaching.

Lawrence Goodwyn The Populist Moment: A Short History of the Agrarian Revolt in America.

WEB Du Bois, Black Reconstruction in America, 1860-1880.

Rick Perlstein, Nixonland: The Rise of a President and the Fracturing of America.  (Michael McCord sees parallels between Nixon’s “Southern Strategy” and Trump’s habit of stoking of grievances. “The Southern Strategy wasn’t solely about race. It was about a new way of politics. Nixon’s cynical poison would infect every cultural wedge issue imaginable in the following decades.”)

Ross Douthat, "The Second Defeat of Bernie Sanders," New York Times, June 23, 2020.  This came out after I posted here and offers a less hopeful vision of the protests.  See also, this comment on the article, which predicts that the BLM protests will morph into a Sanders-style movement.