A Clever Mind

(Photo by Gregory Rodriguez)

Rheinland-Pfalz

Every afternoon–seven days a week–my father-in-law reads the Frankfurter Allgemeine  Zeitung (FAZ) from cover to cover.  Even with the special Saturday edition, it generally takes him about two and a half hours to read on his living room couch. Since 1960, the paper’s best-known advertising slogan has been “Dahinter steckt immer ein kluger Kopf” or “Behind it you’ll always find a clever mind.” This is our homage to the FAZ’s famous ad campaign.

On Freedom, Freaks & Trees

(Photo by Gregory Rodriguez)

London

Whenever I’m in London, I try to stay in South Kensington somewhere between the 19th-century homes of John Stuart Mill and Sir Charles Freake.  Mill, of course, was an apostle of liberty and the most renowned public intellectual of his time.  The lesser known Freake was a prominent developer and patron of the arts.  I have no idea whether the two men knew each other.  I do, however, have a good idea of Mill’s high regard for freaks in general.

At a time when the industrial revolution was in full swing and democracy was on the march, Mill argued that eccentrics are to freedom what coal mine canaries are to oxygen. 

While Americans tend to assume that freedom and democracy are synonymous, Mill feared the will of the majority could just as easily crush liberty as it could create it.

Because the Framers of the U.S. Constitution were obsessed with the abuse of monarchical power, to this day Americans still consider government the likeliest source of oppression.  

But Mill, like his friend Alexis de Tocqueville, knew that citizens acting en masse don’t need to wield the power of government to tyrannize others. They can impose “the yoke of opinion” through mass media or popular democratic politicking.  And that was a century and a half before Twitter! 

For Mill, to deny anyone the freedom to express themselves openly was more than a matter of censorship.  It was tantamount to forbidding those persons from being their authentic selves, which, as Mill saw it, should be the goal of a free society.  He anticipated the widespread contemporary American scourge of “preference falsification,” in which individuals misrepresent their genuine beliefs and desires to avoid social backlash.

Mill knew that society–or vocal members within it–can issue their “own mandates” and create “a social tyranny more formidable than many kinds of” governmental oppression.  The punishment brought by one’s fellow citizens can be worse because “it leaves fewer means of escape, penetrating much more deeply into the details of life, and enslaving the soul itself.”

One of the main fears Mill had of popular democracy in a mechanized world–with its never-ending pressure campaigns launched on the public–was that it would make it harder for people to be “individuals,” that more and more citizens would become “lost in the crowd.”

*** 

Britons have long been known for being more forgiving than Americans of both eccentrics and bad teeth.  Despite–or because of–their traditions, they have the latitude to be quirky in ways Americans do not.  The UK has given us Monty Python and Bennie Hill.  America gives us summer blockbusters, great trends, fads, and social movements.  Search lights and media frenzies are part and parcel of America’s national charm.

A century ago, Spanish-American philosopher George Santayana brilliantly captured the social pressure that lies beneath our seemingly benign fits of enthusiasm.  “Even what is best in American life is compulsory,” he wrote in 1920, “the idealism, the zeal, the beautiful happy unison of its great moments. You must wave, you must cheer, you must push with the irresistible crowd; otherwise you will feel like a traitor, a soulless out­ cast, a deserted ship high and dry on the shore.”

Given the massive efforts by a variety of sectors in U.S. society to impose their morals on the population at large–not to mention the now routine campaigns to silence ideological rivals–Mill would likely would not have considered the contemporary U.S. a very free society.  He’d say it needed more outliers to break through the suffocating conformity. Conformity is the enemy of liberty.

Mill’s notion of freedom was more sophisticated than either “don’t tread on me” individualism or destructive “tear it all down” contrarianism. The kind of liberty he felt a free society should offer was one in which individuals could develop their full potential. “Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model,” he wrote. It was more like a tree that needs to “grow and develop itself on all sides” according to the inner drive that gives it life.

Mill understood that individuals who don’t fit the factory mold can be huge pains in the ass. But suffering their eccentricity is the price of progress.  “The amount of eccentricity in a society, “he wrote, “has generally been proportional to the amount of genius, mental vigor, and moral courage.” 

It’s shocking, I know, to think that the definition of freedom is not getting to constantly coerce your fellow citizens to live under your rules. Wouldn’t it be more satisfying if it meant encouraging millions of distinctively creative souls to flourish like trees?

Do American Ideologies Threaten Global Democracy?

(Photo by Thomas Hawk)

Hamburg

It’s worth noting that a day before President Biden gives a speech on the fragile state of American democracy, Der Spiegel‘s Washington bureau chief has published a book arguing that the U.S. is a net exporter of ideologies that threaten other democracies across the Western world.

In his new book, whose title translates to One Wrong Word: How a New Leftist Ideology from America threatens Our Freedom of Expression, journalist René Pfister warns that ignoring the seductive dogmatism of identity politics could be a “fatal mistake” for nations like Germany.

Why? Because it “absolutizes” all argument and kills the kind of open dialogue and compromise that democracy requires. It turns intellectuals into scared sheep, promotes a vision of society as being a war between the righteous (and victimized) few versus the cruel “deplorable” many, which invariably depresses support for the political center and sends those who feel vilified into the arms of populist demagogues like Donald Trump.

None of these arguments is particularly new. What’s significant here, however, is that it’s being leveled from abroad against the United States, which likes to see itself as the world’s defender of democracy. It’s also noteworthy that this manifesto has been published by a popular left-of-center newsweekly of an allied nation, one that still lives in the shadow of its terrible 20th-century experience with authoritarianism.

In a magazine essay that teases the book, Pfister bemoans that “something is being lost “ in an America in which 55% of respondents told a New York Times poll that they had kept their mouths shut in the past year for fear of saying the wrong thing. What Pfister sees sweeping the U.S.—and creeping across the Atlantic—is nothing more than a new wave of intolerance that justifies itself by claiming to be rooting out past intolerance. He doesn’t buy it. What he sees is the creation of more acronyms and a growing climate of fear. Just like you can’t bomb Iraq into becoming a liberal democracy, I guess you can’t create a more tolerant world through intimidation and censorship. To trivialize this trend or to pretend it hasn’t leapt beyond the universities where it’s incubated, he argues, is not just a cop out, it’s dangerous.

Traveling While Brown

Istanbul

Last night, a group of very kind Bahraini women I met at a café here invited me to live in their wealthy little country in the Persian Gulf.  My qualifications? I looked Arab. From which country? I asked. Kuwait, they all agreed. 

When I first traveled to Europe as a 14-year-old kid, more than a few Spaniards I met insisted I was Chinese, which roughly translated to “really foreign” or “completely unlike us.”  But more recently, my physiognomy has just as often given others reasons to include–rather than exclude–me.

Whether I’m in South Africa or Hawaii, locals are always projecting one or another ethnicity or racial category on me.  In Johannesburg I’m “Coloured,” and in Honolulu I’ve often been mistaken for being a mix of Portuguese and Samoan. (Yes, that specific.)

But I shouldn’t say “mistaken,” because I don’t waste time correcting folks who are trying to welcome me into their group.  You know what I mean, braddah? If people find common cause with me for my looks, it certainly beats the times those same looks aroused suspicion or plain old prejudice back in the continental US of A. 

When the Bahrainis first asked me where I was from, I told them I was born in California.  But my Americanness mattered little to them.  They had already determined that I was one of them.  The way I figured, they were vacationing in a non-Arab country, and they found an excuse to create connection with a chatty stranger. 

By the end of our conversation, the youngest member of their group, a medical doctor, walked around the table to show me photos of Bahrain’s capital on her iPhone.  Mostly they were nondescript images of marinas, restaurants, and walkways by the Gulf.

“We are an island country surrounded by water,” the doctor told me.  And after a brutally hot summer in Madrid, the idea of island life genuinely appealed to me.  And suddenly, so did the idea of leaning into my newly anointed Arab identity. I then turned to my new best friends and said, “As-salaam alaikum.”

¡Hola Chicas!

Photo by Gregory Rodriguez

Sigüenza, Castilla-La Mancha

Spain has the longest life expectancy of any country in the developed world with the exception of Japan. There are many theories as to why. The diet. The walking. The custom of complaining and cursing to let off steam. Those may all be factors. But I think it’s also because even the old folks routinely get out to meet their friends, gossip, have a drink or a snack. Two women in their eighties just entered the café where I’m spending this late afternoon to an affectionate chorus of “¡Hola chicas!”

Americans are in Conflict because the Framers were Conflicted

(Photo by Rasande Tyskar)

The U.S. Supreme Court’s reversal of Roe v. Wade is a blow to the American body politic.  Worse yet, it is part of a larger war over the architecture of American governance. The decision exposes a dangerous tension between two competing theories of power that the Framers of the Constitution left unsettled.  Three years ago, I had the great pleasure of interviewing historian Gary Gerstle about some of the key ideas in his landmark 2015 book, Liberty and Coercion: The Paradox of American Government from the Founding to the Present. Clear, measured, and sweeping in his vision, Gerstle, who teaches American history at Cambridge, has the rare gift of being able to speak as intelligibly as he writes.  He explains the improvisational strategies with which the U.S. has developed an increasingly strong central government—something the Framers explicitly discouraged.  His analysis suggests that America’s contemporary system of governance is built on an insecure foundation, and that we may have to brace ourselves for more earthquakes ahead. This interview was edited for clarity.

Gregory:     So you’ve essentially explained the history of American governance. What are the two essential theories of power or theories of governance that the U.S. adheres to, is forced to balance?

Gary:          Well, one theory is very familiar to everyone who knows something about America. And that is the notion that the power of government needs to be limited. America was founded against George III and his overweening power. And as he exercised that power, personally and through parliament, it came to be seen in the colonies as the ultimate source of tyranny. So to fashion a meaningful liberty, the power of the government had to be curtailed, had to be limited, and had to be fragmented. This is written into the Constitution and, so far as students in America still take civics lessons, they learn about the separation of powers; they learn about the fragmentation of government into central government states, municipalities; they learn about the emphasis on curtailing the ability of any single government source to exercise influence over an individual. This is best encapsulated in the New Hampshire license plates that say “Live Free or Die”.

Gary:          I mean it’s a crazy thing to put on a license plate if you think about it for a moment– but what are they talking about? The only way to live free is to be free of government surveillance of your life. That is foundational to the story that Americans tell about themselves. That is also what later is going to be called, and we may get into this discussion later, negative liberty, which means liberty from something. You’re only free if you can get institutions that are governing your lives out of the way. So this is seen as being central to the American Revolution and hence the story of America being a free society, meaning a society not governed powerfully from a national capitol with a big bureaucracy and a large administration: Americans experience their freedom by having a distant government strictly limited in its power.

Gary:          Now we’re dealing with this at the level of blueprint and myth. We can talk about what that government actually does and doesn’t do at another time, but this is part of the myth of America and it lives on incredibly powerfully today in the Republican Party, it’s something that all kinds of Americans still do believe today.

Gregory:     And yet, there’s another theory of power ensconced in the U.S. system of government.

Gary:          Yes. There is a very different theory of power and this is a theory of power that is ensconced in the states and not in the central government. It’s got a very strange name. It’s called “The Police Power” and does not refer to the common modern sense of what police do, which is law and order, arrest criminals, stop crime, protect property. The police power in the 18th century sense says that the government has the responsibility to look after the good and welfare of the commonwealth, which means looking after the welfare of the people.

Gary:          It’s a very broad charter of powers. It says the government must step in to do all sorts of things: educate people, pick up rotting carcasses in the street, improve morals, enforce the Sabbath, enforce rules and morals, govern sexuality and private life. It’s an extraordinarily broad charter of powers. It’s unknown to most Americans, incredibly. And so if I were to mention to someone walking down the street, tell me about the police power, they’ll start talking about the local cops and rounding people up and putting them in jail. But the idea that this is a much larger charter of power, it’s invested in the state legislatures, not in the central government, is a carryover from 18th century Britain, where it was called the public police. And in this moment when Americans are creating this very limited central government wanting to protect individuals against the tyranny of the central government, they are investing their state governments with extraordinary, almost unchecked power.

Gary:          And here’s the way in which you can understand how broad this power is. Every American knows about the Bill of Rights. What is the Bill of Rights? The Bill of Rights says there is, at its core, I’m not going to list the different freedoms and liberties it enshrines, but at its core is the belief that surrounding every individual, there must be a sphere that is inviolable and no government can touch that person in his privacy or in his speech or hers or her religion—except under the most extraordinary circumstances. It’s very celebrated in terms of what Americans do. It turns out that the Bill of Rights does not apply to the states. It applies only to the federal government.

Gary:          So the First Amendment says, Congress shall make no law abridging freedom of speech or religion. Now, when I read that for most of my adult life, I just thought, well no one in America can make a law abridging freedom of speech and religion. While it turns out, the courts interpret that literally. Congress can make no law abridging freedom of speech and religion, but it does not apply to what the state governments can and cannot do.

Gregory:     Who decided–and why did they decide–to allow the states to maintain this kind of power that they didn’t want the central government to have?

Gary:          This remains something of a mystery to me.

Gregory:     What is your theory? 

Gary:          Well, I have several theories and I’ll share them with you. One is that, the most benign theory is this, that they, the Americans of the late 18th century, are engaged in a revolution. They’re getting rid of a king. They’re inventing a revolutionary kind of politics, which on the one hand is tremendously exciting. On the other hand, it’s tremendously scary. They are in their own minds establishing a republic, which is a polity in which the people are sovereign. But they were worried by the history of republics and that republics can degenerate into democracy. And democracy is a bad word in the 18th century among a lot of people because it meant the rule of the mob.

Gary:          So how do you protect liberty and how do you make the people sovereign and how do you ensure that this won’t descend into anarchy? And so in this moment of incredible creativity, there is nervousness that they won’t have enough order, that the people will literally run amok. So some institution of government has to be invested with the traditional sort of power. What institution should be invested with this power? Not the central government, which is identified as the locus of tyranny, but state governments. Because after all, they are the governments closest to the people. And plus, the state governments operate according to state constitutions, which unlike the federal constitution, are easy to change. So if you invest a lot of this power in state governments, you are in a sense giving it to the people. And the people most of the time are not going to do anything wrong. And if they, because they’re the people and there’s a tremendous belief in that, and if they do do something wrong, they will step in to change the constitution.

Gregory:     So, one; It may have been an insurance policy.

Gary:          Yes.

Gregory:     Two; It was justified because states were representative of people and people wouldn’t do that to themselves. But you also mentioned another possibility that the understanding of the late 18th century of classical liberalism was imperfect.

Gary:          Yes.

Gregory:     So in other words, the framers may not have fully understood…

Gary:          The consequences of their action. That is correct. So they developed a theory of government tyranny that pertained to a government that was distant, ruled by a king or a powerful executive. Many of the founders didn’t really think that governments that were close to the people would behave in nasty ways. They thought that if you really invested the people with the right power, they would do the right thing. And they hadn’t reached the point of saying, there will be a day when any government, no matter how far from the people are close to them, will do something wrong and will violate the right of an individual or a minority that should not be violated. That was not part of the democratic theory at the time. So you could say a lot of them just didn’t worry about it. It was not a problem. They had trouble imagining how the people would oppress themselves.

Gregory:     Those are two rather benign theories.

Gary:          Now there’s a more malignant explanation for this that I ought to raise. The Bill of Rights only refers to the rights of persons. It refers to the rights of persons much more rigorously than the Constitution, in the Constitution you have the concept of other persons, other persons refers to slaves. There was no conception of other persons in the Bill of Rights.

Gary:          There is the possibility lurking underneath this that when James Madison, who is someone who sees clearly the problems that are going to arise if the states are not made subservient to the Bill of Rights. He says, at the end of the day we’ve got to have an 11th amendment making the states subservient to the Bill of Rights. And even his fellow Virginians won’t give them any time of day for that. And you asked why did this critical crafter of the Constitution, why was he greeted with such silence about this? Well, I think it’s possible that some of his fellow Virginians and other Southerners thought that this Bill of Rights, if made incumbent upon the states, could be used to undermine slavery.

Gary:          Because at the end of the day, the states were responsible for whether there would be slavery or not with regard to peoples of African descent. And if you made the Bill of Rights, which talks about the rights of persons, incumbent upon the states, what would stop a slave, who was a person–and no one denied the personhood of slaves–what would deny that person the right to go to court and to demand liberties promised in the Bill of Rights?

Gregory:     This is a hunch of yours? This is a theory of yours?

Gary:          This is a hunch; this is a theory of mine. And various historians hint at it, but they don’t discuss it fully. The grand compromise of the Constitution had already been agreed to, that the issue of slavery would be left to the states. Slavery would be protected in those states that wish to protect it. And so lurking in my thinking is the possibility that, if the Bill of Rights was made incumbent upon the states, there was this understanding that this would upend the great compromise of the Constitution.

Gregory:     Could this also have derived from the fact that there was competition among the states and they wanted to preserve some power unto themselves?

Gary:          Yes. Yes. Yes. Several of the original 13 states had been colonies for more than a hundred years. In other words, they were long-standing entities. They had long-standing powers. They had long-standing systems of representation. They were connected to the metropole of London more closely than they were connected to each other. And so another explanation is simply they were loath to give up more power than they needed to because the representatives of the states in the Constitutional Convention were representing political entities that had existed in their own minds for a long period of time. And they were reluctant to give up too many of the privileges that they thought would transfer from the colonies to the states.

Gregory:     So you have a variety of theories, but is your hunch that this was a singular decision or was it a series of political compromises?

Gary:          I think we will never find the smoking gun as to why the states were left with this extraordinary and unexamined power. I think I’m floating various theories because I don’t think it was decided in a day. And I don’t think it was decided directly. If you searched the Constitutional Convention, you will not find lengthy debates about this. And so this was a way of, I think, of making a set of insurance policies for people who who were concerned with different risks all saw in this set of powers given to the states a kind of insurance. That made them more comfortable with the radical experiment and central government power that they were creating.

***

Gregory:     You have identified three strategies that have powered what you have called the “improvisational central state-building project” in the United States. What are those three strategies and could you give examples of how each was used?

Gary:          Yes. Let me give you a bit of background first. I think it has to be granted that the states have robust powers and they can do a lot of things and the central government is sharply limited in its powers. While there are certain things the states can’t do, like build a transcontinental railroad. One state can’t build a railroad across the country. The states can’t effectively fight a war. They can’t have their own currency systems. There are things that need central government power. And so the question becomes, by after the Civil War in the late 19th century, there’s increasing demand by the people of America on the central government to do things, to build railroads, to build infrastructure, to build roads, to create incentives for Industrialization to regulate industry.

Gary:          Because the central government did not have a clear charter of powers to regulate industry, to take care of the morals of the American people, which the states are perceived as failing to do. So there are increasing demands on a central government that is formally limited in its power. So the question becomes, how does a central government formerly limited in its powers get additional powers? In a situation where the Constitution for all intents and purposes can’t be changed unless you fight a civil war. And the US is not ready in the late 19th century to fight a second civil war. The Civil War amendments were relatively easy because if you kick a third of the states out of the Union, it becomes much easier to get a constitutional amendment through Congress and through all the state legislatures. But with all the states present with all their varying interests, amending the Constitution is in normal times a near impossibility.

Gregory:     What were the forces in the late 19th century that led to a growing demand for a stronger central government?

Gary:          One is the country is expanding and it sees its future in expansion. And first it’s contiguous expansion. And then after 1898 it’s international expansion. It is: How do you govern colonies? Where are the powers to govern colonies come from? What will Hawaii be? What will the Philippines be? What will Puerto Rico be? So part of it is expansion and how do you govern these different kinds of territories and different kinds of peoples, not anticipated by the original Constitution. Another is that the US is interested in economic expansion. It senses within itself the capacity to be the major industrial player in the world and that can’t be done without government incentives. And then when the inequities of capitalist development become manifest, who’s going to have the power to step in to regulate industry capitalism and its own interests and who’s got to have the power to give workers and others who are suffering the costs of industrialization a better deal?        

Gary:          There is an intensification of the problems that we now associate with capitalist development, which is patterns of economic booms, which become speculatory booms followed by busts. And so once you have an economy that is growing by boom and bust, you have not simply economic expansion but severe contraction. You have the intensification of severe social conflict in America in the 19th century. So there are fears that the Republic can’t hold with the antagonisms between farmers and railroads, the antagonisms between Andrew Carnegie and his steel workers on the one hand and the steel workers who are working for him on the other who are working under very difficult circumstances, the number of people who can’t get decent jobs or who can’t support themselves.

Gary:          These problems are becoming so severe that there is a feeling that some force outside of industry or labor has to step in to regulate industrialization. And of course industry is also accompanied by, everywhere in the world, intensive urbanization. So the United States had been dispersed agricultural land, and suddenly it’s got these big cities and huge numbers of people living together often uneasily because the demands for labor are so high, a lot of people are being brought in from abroad. And so in these urban areas you have a clash of cultures, you have a clash of morals, you have clashes of religion and people are living in circumstances that are economically harsh.

Gary:          Not enough provision is made for housing and sanitation and all the things that go with big city life. And all these issues are percolating and overwhelming America in the late 19th and early 20th century. And the states are failing to do this work. And in part they can’t because the corporations are bigger than any single state. And what you might regulate in one state doesn’t work in another. Or if you regulate a corporation too much in New York, it’ll pull up its stakes and go to Alabama or Texas where the laws are less severe. And so a demand arises for some kind of a national regulation to get a tremendously chaotically expanding economy under control.

Gregory:     And so the demand for national regulation puts pressure on the central government, which does not have the authority. Which leads to the development of these three improvisational state-building strategies.

Gary:          Exemption, surrogacy, and privatization. Exemption and privatization are the two easiest to understand. Exemption simply says the government is going to exempt itself from Constitutional constraints in these areas. And they tend to be issues that the government is involved in beyond the formal borders of the country. Immigration is defined as exempted. So immigration is not covered by the Bill of Rights or Constitutional guarantees. So if you want to exclude Chinese from coming to the country as the United States government decided to do in 1882, you can do it. If you want to throw Mexicans out and  deport them from the country, these Mexicans are going to have very few rights. This gets defined as an activity that is exempt from Constitutional scrutiny.

Gary:          Also, the possession of colonies: up until 1898 any territory taken by the United States is considered to be an incorporated territory. It’s a legal term, which means if it’s incorporated it will be put on the road to statehood. Well, the US government is not sure it wants to put Puerto Rico, Hawaii, and the Philippines on the road to statehood. Hawaii is put on the road to statehood, Puerto Rico and the Philippines are not, so a new term is invented for those lands which is called the unincorporated territory, which exempts the US government from having to put these territories on the path to statehood. Which means they have no right to be self-governed.

Gregory:     So, exemption applies to gray areas in which there is no Constitutional authority. Did no legislators at any point say we must create laws that would put this gray area under Constitutional authority?

Gary:          Yes. Yes.

Gregory:     What were those discussions and debates like?

Gary:          These debates were furious. Some Americans said what distinguishes America is that when America expands, it doesn’t treat the newly acquired lands as colonies of the original metropole. Right? We can imagine a different form of political development in America where the 13 colonies remained supreme forever and Texas and Kansas and California, the state in which this interview is occurring, will be something else. They will be subservient to the others. So the US has a mechanism for spreading the fruits of self-government everywhere. So some people are saying we can’t invent a new mechanism. Other people are saying, well, we can invent a new mechanism, which means we should not be taking the Philippines and Puerto Rico as colonies. We don’t want them. We just refuse, and make them self-governing, independent immediately. That’s something else. So there are furious debates about this and then there are furious debates about what the rights of immigrants are.

Gregory:     But were there also broader debates about the existence of these gray areas and whether they should be put under Constitutional authority?

Gary:          Yes.  But all liberal democracies have gray areas. And I have a new essay coming out, which I call spaces of exception, which are spaces where the flag flies, but where the Constitution does not follow, and I argue in this that this is not a particularly American problem, that every liberal democracy is going to confront certain issues for which they’re not prepared. And they’re going to acquire certain lands and peoples that can’t be incorporated fully and instantaneously. We might wish for a different situation. But all liberal democracies have spaces of exception and they come to depend on spaces of exception as a way of solving nettlesome problems in uncomfortable ways. And it’s critical. And if the liberal democracy is to survive, it’s critical that these spaces be seen as limited in time, limited in space.

Gary:          And if they are not and limited in time and limited in space, if they are not seen as exceptional, they will become the norm. And liberal democracy will vanish. And part of the story of Trump is that he’s taking mechanisms that were invented, these spaces of exception, and turning them into something much more dire: mainstream, normative. And if this goes on for too long, if the camps housing immigrants in the Southwest remain in place for too much time, housing too many people, then America will lose its normative reputation as being a democracy. In other words, the exception will become the norm. So, Trump is taking certain devices that were invented in the late 19th and early 20th century, meant to be exceptional spaces, and turning them into something mainstream and normative. And if that happens, then liberal democracy will, in America, will cease.

Gregory:     Now, can you please explain the second strategy, surrogacy?

Gary:          The central government has certain powers that it can act upon at any time. It can make war. It has the exclusive right to emit currency and to regulate the currency. It has other laws it can use to its advantage but it remains limited in terms of what it can do. Let’s say, for example, Americans are concerned about immorality in American society. The federal government actually has no statutory power to render Americans more moral. What do we mean by more moral? That they have the right sexual practices, that they abstain from sex before marriage, that they remain monogamous, that they don’t shop on the Sabbath or engage in commerce on the Sabbath, these sorts of things. The federal government does not have, by what the Constitution says, the right to act in these areas. The states have these rights.

Gary:          In the late 19th century, there was a man by the name of Anthony Comstock saying women have much too much access to birth control information. They’re having abortions, which he considers immoral, which leads to promiscuity and all kinds of immoral practices in American society. He wants to act. He wants some kind of federal law that’s going to prevent that kind of immorality from happening, but Congress can’t pass a law that says abortions are immoral. It just doesn’t have the authority to do that. What he says is that the government has the right to regulate the mails. In the late 19th century, most information about birth control, also pornography, is traveling through the mails, and so he wants to use the post office to regulate morality in American life.

Gary:          This is what I’m calling surrogacy. You take a power given for an explicit purpose, and, from 1792, the federal government has the unambiguous right to regulate the mails, and you use it for something else. You hang on the peg of the post office a campaign to eliminate obscenity and knowledge about birth control from American life. This becomes one of the activities that the post office is engaged in. The post office becomes one of the biggest centers of bureaucracy and administration in American life. Are they doing this just to deliver the mails? Well, the US does have a remarkable postal system, that is true, but they also begin to take on all these other tasks which Congress is asking them to do because Congress can’t address these other problems directly. Another example, there’s pressure in the early 20th century to regulate prostitution. The Congress can’t pass a law saying, “We outlaw prostitution.” States can do that but not the central government, but the central government has the unambiguous right to regulate interstate commerce. This is a power given to it by the Constitution. Congress passes a law saying that any prostitute carried across state lines enters the stream of interstate commerce, and thus anyone purveying these women across state lines can be prosecuted in federal court.

Gregory:     What year was it?

Gary:          1911. It’s called the Mann Act.

Gregory:     And now to the third strategy, privatization.

Gary:          Privatization is something Americans will be familiar with. If the government can’t do it, find a private organization that can. If the central government is going to be formally limited in its powers to enact change, it needs help and assistance, and, in the 19th century, it turns increasingly to the private sector for help in building railroads. It turns to religious groups for help in enforcing morality. If the federal government can’t legislate about birth control or prostitution, well, it can give money and support to private church groups to become very active as advocates for a purer moral order. In all kinds of areas of life, the federal government looks for allies and adjuncts to carry out its power, to carry out its wishes.  There’s nothing to stop it from asking someone of influence and power in private life, to use their soapbox, and, let’s say you were a minister, to use your church to try and persuade people of the virtue of certain courses of action. In all kinds of areas of American life, the US government looks for allies in the private sector to carry out its wishes. If it asks them to volunteer to do this—or maintains the myth of volunteerism—then it sidesteps the thorny Constitutional issue about whether the federal government is actually allowed to participate in these activities.

Gary:          The US develops a model, especially at the federal level, of private public interpenetration, of finding corporations, church groups, labor groups, all kinds of voluntary associations to carry out the wishes of the central state without the central state coercing them to do that, and that has seemed to be permitted. It’s almost as if the central government becomes a national bully pulpit of asking private actors to do its work. Sometimes it has the authority to do something. It has the authority to build roads. It has the authority to build a national railroad across the entire country but its administrative capacity is limited. It’s the number of bureaucrats it has. The expertise it has is limited, and so it goes to the private sector. It goes to private industry and says, “Do this work for us and we will pay you for it.”

Gary:          Of course, the danger there is if, once you’re enlisting and conscripting private actors in public projects, sometimes the public value of this gets lost, or it gets swamped by the private interests of the people getting the money and the charters.

***

Gregory:     So those who wanted a stronger central government have repeatedly used these three improvisational strategies.

Gary:          Yes.

Gregory:     At no point did these people say, “This is not good enough. We need to change the structure of American government.” Were there no efforts to make these strategies more than improvisational?

Gary:          Oh, there was enormous pressure to do more.

Gregory:     When was that?

Gary:          Well, it begins in the late 19th and early 20th century. The protesters in America and also the state-builders, they looked to Europe. They looked to the large centralized states of Great Britain, France, and Germany principally, and they see the state having powers and administrative machinery to provide welfare, regulate industry. They perceive Europe as being far ahead of America in these respects, and many of them go to study in Europe and they come back with the European ideas and they try to implement them.

Gregory:     But did anyone seek to build a stronger central government through strategies that were more than improvisational?  Was there ever an attempt to say this Constitution has a fundamental weakness to it, that the balance between state police powers and central government liberalism is not working?

Gary:          Yes, in the Progressive Era in the early 1900s these issues are being fought out intensely, this is the moment where there is a serious Constitutional politics in which many, many Americans–ordinary farmers and workers plus leading politicians like Theodore Roosevelt–are saying the Constitution is crap. It’s not working. We either need the Supreme Court to deal with these problems of industrialization that they refuse to deal with or say the central government doesn’t have the power or we have to change the Constitution. The Progressive Era is the only period in which they are successful in pushing through a set of Constitutional amendments. It’s the only period in American history where Constitutional amendments pass in a moment that is not extraordinary. What’s extraordinary? The founding of the country is extraordinary. You get 10 amendments there. The Civil War is extraordinary. You get three amendments there. You get four amendments in the Progressive Era. You get the power to tax, you get the direct election of senators, you get the right of women to vote, and you get Prohibition. You get four Constitutional amendments. Now, there is a war in there but it’s not principally because of war. You get four Constitutional amendments within a space of 10 years.

Gregory:     That, you’re saying, is the largest surge for support for reorganizing the government constitutionally.

Gary:          Constitutionally, yes.  But the kind of change that you’re asking about does not become an amendment, which would have said the US government has the right to regulate manufacturing. That’s something they could have done, right? However, giving the US government the power to tax has enormous consequences because its power to assess taxation is distinctly limited before then, and this gives the government another very, very large power, which it did not have, which is going to promote, over the long term, a politics of redistribution, of being able to tax the very wealthy at very high rates and use the money that’s coming into the federal government to benefit the lower orders of society.

Gary:          At some point, I’m going to write an essay on what made this progressive moment so unusual because I think, if this Constitution is to survive another century, we’re going to need another Progressive Era where we amend the Constitution in a meaningful way.

***

Gregory:     On that note, let’s please take a step backwards and talk about the military career of Andrew Jackson and what it tells us about the strengths and weaknesses of a weak federal government.

Gary:          Andrew Jackson was many things but, among the things he was, he was a very successful general and military leader. If you’re a betting person in America in 1805, you’re betting that what is the United States will not survive in its current form, its current geographical form, because the central government was too small and already the land mass that the US had acquired through the Louisiana Purchase is so vast. It does not have a central government machinery, it does not have a standing army that can police and patrol this whole area. If you’re a betting person, you’re betting that North America is going to look like what South America is becoming, which is this: multiple republics descended from one imperial ancestor. The South American model and also the southern part of North America, Mexico, Argentina, Peru, Bolivia, these are all republics, or countries wanting to be republics, descended from one imperial ancestor.

Gary:          This helps me make sense of another puzzle, which I didn’t understand for the longest time. What is Aaron Burr, a very distinguished figure in the early American public, almost president of the United States, why is he going off on a filibuster to take part of Mexico to set up his own republic? It’s a good bet to be making in the early years of the 19th century because you’re betting that the central government can’t hold this place together. In place of one United States, you have an eastern United States, you have a southern United States, you have Texas, you have California, and maybe Mexico itself becomes part of an assembly of republics. In other words, a very different shape to North America. This is what you’re betting on.

Gary:          The question becomes, how does the center hold? How does this sprawling territory that wants to be a country, how does it enforce its will? Some of that answer has to do with Andrew Jackson, both his skills as a general and we might say his ruthlessness. Him developing a model of military force, and also a deep commitment to having this larger continent-wide republic survive, this is his vision of America and he is going to stop at nothing to do it. He developed some model of military action that requires a small standing military and instead depends on the martial valor and ruthlessness of citizen soldiers, those people living in Tennessee and other places on the frontier, living in very insecure circumstances. He finds a way to mobilize them in a project to maintain this great dream of the United States on the one hand and, on the other hand, he conscripts them in his plans by promising them land and freedom and territory, land that first and foremost has to be cleared of Indians, and then has to be cleared of rival European powers.

Gary:          He has a remarkable string of successes. I never, in my earlier career, paid much attention to the War of 1812. It’s kind of the untaught war, but this is the war that demonstrates that America can hang together. Andrew Jackson, in the course of that war, which begins before 1812 and really goes until the 1820s, he defeats the British, he defeats the Spanish, he defeats multiple Indian tribes in different locations, he defeats a military federation. If you want to look for the place where America ensured its survival in its continental form, perhaps forever, or at least for a few hundred years, it’s the War of 1812 that does it, and General Andrew Jackson is the key pivotal figure in that drama.

Gary:          There were groups in the American government who did not want to unleash the ferociousness and ruthlessness and savagery of Andrew Jackson. They believed that there was a different future available to America. Not really peaceful coexistence with other European empires. I think there’s a consensus that Spain and Britain had to be excluded as much as possible from North America, or at least south of Canada, but there is a faction in the government that says, “We have treaties with these Indian nations. We have to respect their land claims. We have to respect these treaties. We have to live peacefully alongside them and we can do that.”

Gary:          But for that scenario to unfold, the United States would have had to have a much larger standing army responsible only to Washington, not to the states, not citizen militias, farmers fighting for their land. These would have had to have been professional soldiers, not attached to a particular plot of land in Tennessee or Alabama or Mississippi, clearly fighting for Washington and its intentions. It would have required a string of forts, manned by these professional soldiers, but America has said, “No, there will be no standing army of this sort because that is going to corrupt the central government.”

Gregory:     Just to make sure I’m understanding this right, Jackson’s military genius allowed for the small army to expand when needed, use force, and then to condense itself?

Gary:          Right.

Gregory:     That was also the genius of the federal government, of a weak federal government, on some level. The ability to expand when needed, then to contract.  Right?

Gary:          Right.

Gregory:     The weakness was its inability to impose its will on a growing country. What were the consequences of not having a central government that could extend its power to a growing country?

Gary:          The amount of land that the US had acquired, especially through the Louisiana Purchase, was simply extraordinary. If it was to reap the benefits of that land, that land had to be settled. It wanted that land settled with its own people, which it defined as Americans, which it defined as people of European descent. That meant westward expansion, not just of land but of people. This land was full of other people not of European descent and it was full also of people who were either part of the Spanish empire and in the process of Mexico becoming independent, of becoming an independent republic. The government was faced with the challenge of populating land with its people at a time when that land was populated by other people who had other ideas about what that land was to be used for.

Gary:          The US either could have built a much stronger central state to impose its will, both militarily and administratively. It could have ruled from the center, as London ruled much of the British Empire, or it could have relied on settlers who doubled as soldiers to take the job of expansion into their own hands. The US, almost in every case, opts for the latter strategy, not the former. They would have had to erect a different kind of central government from the one it had.

Gregory:     You’re implying that, had there been a stronger central government during westward expansion, that it could have been less chaotic, less anarchic, less violent.

Gary:          And less barbaric toward the Indians. Absolutely.  You have been asking me on several occasions, were there not Americans who had a different view of this? There are Americans who have a different view of westward expansion, who want to see it much more controlled, but they also tend to be more conservative. They want to see it more controlled by elites. They want elites of different nations to coordinate, diplomatically, their relations with each other. They understand the savagery that can be unleashed if the white settlers are allowed too much autonomy. They can’t do it.

Gary:          There are these moments where the settlers just won’t be restrained under any circumstances. Here also is where the state governments come into play because the western land is being turned into territories with the promise of statehood and the federal government wants to deliver statehood pretty quickly because states become a mechanism for ensuring order on the frontier that the central government can’t itself deliver, but what guarantee does it have that these states will enforce Washington’s wishes?

Gary:          This happens in Georgia, where Washington wants to honor the treaties it has with the Indians living in land that now belongs to the state of Georgia and the Supreme Court sides with the federal government against the state of Georgia, and the state of Georgia says, “To hell with Washington, to hell with the Supreme Court. This is state government here. We’re going to do what we want to do.”

Gary:          Then, there are countless examples of white settlers initiating conflicts with Indian tribes that the central government doesn’t want because either it’s not prepared to send a lot of troops there or it genuinely wants to honor certain treaties that it has with these Indians. It can’t stop these settlers from going into these territories and so the central government gets involved in military conflicts with Indians that it doesn’t want. At a certain point, so much chaos is being generated on the frontier that it can’t just say, “We’ll have nothing to do with this.” It has to send in its troops to clean up the mess.

***

Gregory:     There’s one line that perhaps best connects your books American Crucible and Liberty and Coercion. It reads: “The political failure to build a more capacious state, one might argue, heightened the importance of race as a sinew of sovereignty in this new nation.” Can you please explain this line?

Gary:          If you’re not going to have a powerful central government to enforce order on the frontier, where’s that order going to come from? The central government in Washington understands that the settlers, in many circumstances, can’t be trusted, that there’s a savagery and a determination in them to get land and to act on their own, so what will order look like on the frontier?  If the central government is abdicating its responsibility, it is reliant on settlers, citizen soldiers, to provide that order in circumstances of chaos. Where is that sense of order going to come from? It’s going to come from a strong sense of community. What are the bonds of community? Increasingly, the bonds of community are racial. We settlers are on a mission. We are the carriers of certain ideals. Those ideals are deeply embedded in our history and our national origins. They come from Britain, they come from Germany. We have a special destiny to establish a republic of liberty unlike any in the world. Many peoples of the world can’t understand what we’re doing. If we’re to be successful, we have to clear them out of the way.

Gary:          It becomes a process of settlement that finds its ultimate justification and bonding in blood and ethnoracial purity and in whiteness and in European-ness or whatever you want to call it, a sense of “we”, and here I’m ventriloquizing, the settlers, we are the carriers of a special heritage. We have a particular origin. We have a particular heritage, which is not something you just learn in school. It’s who we are. It’s the blood running in our veins. This will bond us with each other in ways that will make us strong enough to carry this experiment into the wilderness and defeat the savages that we find there.

Gregory:     Isn’t whiteness then created at this point? Doesn’t this heterogeneous group of settlers from different ethnic origins become white as they meet and fight Native Americans and Mexicans?

Gary:          Yes, absolutely. Theodore Roosevelt articulated this most forcefully in his historical writing, The Winning of the West. He was never a man for the narrow conception of racial purity. He was something of a mutt himself, part Dutch, part English, part German, and he believed that the fighting against the savage Indians was the crucible that made America, and the crucible was a melting pot.

Gary:          It fused out of the myriad strains of Europeans who were coming to America. It fused them into a single American race, so they come to inhabit their whiteness fully, and you’re right. It’s precisely in these encounters with racial others that, what comes to be understood as a commonality of Americanness gets forged.

Gary:          It is a commonality that comes to be understood as white, and that stands against those who are not white, and it generates ideas and then myths about America as a crucible, America as a melting pot but, from the start it’s conceived as a racialized melting pot. In other words, only certain kinds of peoples are let in and, if you have too many non-whites let in, the compound will be contaminated.

Gregory:     In short, you’re saying that white supremacy kept this community of white Americans together as the country moved westward.

Gary:          Yes. I don’t want to suggest that white supremacy is the only thing that matters on the frontier, but it was a critical element in community building and bonding on the frontier. It also created the resolve that was thought to be necessary for what comes to be regarded as savage war against the Indians.


***

Gregory:     This is all extraordinarily fascinating.  But given all the terrain I still want to cover, let’s now move forward in time and focus again on the power and weakness of the federal government. Can you explain why the central government expanded in capacity and authority in the 1930s and ‘40s?

Gary:          Depression and war. The Great Depression that begins in 1929 and doesn’t end until 1941 is the most serious economic downturn in American history, 25% unemployment, despair, widespread recognition among almost everyone that capitalism is a system that’s not working. It discredits laissez-faire economics, market-based economics. It discredits it for 50 years, so that the people who are so prominent in American life today with their laissez-faire economics don’t get any kind of hearing from 1933 until Reagan is elected in 1980, almost a 50-year period.

Gary:          The belief takes root that only when you have a strong central state that can regulate the economy, this is its only chance for success, so what you get in the 1930s is what America’s never had until that point, which is a strong regulatory state with the ability and the will to regulate the economy, not just for the people on the bottom, but for capitalists themselves who are desperate for some kind of regulation from without so they can assure themselves of a regular stream of profits and not the collapse that they were subjected to in the 1930s. This is when laissez-faire jurisprudence gets overthrown by surrogacy, not by constitutional amendment.

Gary:          There’s a figure I love, farmer Roscoe Filburn of Ohio, who’s growing wheat on his own property and insists it can’t be regulated by the government because it doesn’t enter interstate commerce. And the Supreme Court, this is Roosevelt’s Supreme Court, says nine to nothing it is interstate commerce—so that’s the Constitutional revolution that, without an amendment, legitimates what the New Deal is doing and angers conservatives from now until the third millennium.

Gary:          The other great factor is World War II, which the emergency is so great, the attack by the Japanese, the threat of Nazism, the World War, that, for a period of war, all restraints on government basically are suspended. What’s even more important than World War II is the following of World War II with the Cold War, which is a state of near permanent war.

Gregory:     Let me get one more question before we get to ’40s, ’50s.

Gary:          Okay.

Gregory:     What did positive liberty mean in the context of the New Deal?

Gary:          So, there’s negative liberty and positive liberty, according to some political theorists. Negative liberty is associated with classical liberalism of the 18th century.  Classical liberalism believes in getting governmental structures out of the economy and letting people be free to do what they want to do. This is why the central government is made weak, so it can’t prevent the market from developing and allowing people as individuals to do what they want to do.

Gary:          This is understood as negative liberty. You simply remove the negative forces that are hampering liberty, and then you and I get to enjoy the full liberty that will now be within our reach, so it imagines that people live in a natural state of liberty, and what’s holding us back is monarchy, aristocracy, large, centralized tyrannical governments. You remove all that. You let us be our natural selves. Adam Smith, we truck, barter, and trade. That is you remove the negative influences that hold down our individual liberty. For a long time, those people who called themselves liberals said this is all that’s necessary for a liberal polity to develop.

Gary:          Those who began to talk about positive liberty and, here, Franklin Roosevelt is crucial. He doesn’t use the phrase himself. But if we want to understand what he’s doing, it’s positive liberty, because he’s the person who changes the meaning of liberalism in America. He says, ” Gregory, Gary, it’s not enough for government just to remove centers of government power, monarchy regulation because you guys don’t have enough education, you don’t have enough opportunity, you don’t have enough security, you live in an unequal society, and if we just let market forces run wild, you’re not going to be able to enjoy your liberty because you’re going to be poor, and you’re not going to get enough education.”

Gary:          So, in order for you and me to enjoy our liberty, we need assistance. We need education. We need college. Maybe we need graduate school. We need some unemployment insurance when we lose our jobs. We need help in getting a mortgage. We need education. We need public support for the arts because us having a full measure of individuality means we need to be cultured in some way.

Gary:          So, he says we are going to take positive steps so that you are in a position to enjoy your liberty. Think here of individuality fully, that we are going to educate you to the best of your potential. We are going to surround you with opportunity that is going to allow you to realize your liberty fully. So, in order for us to do this, we need a strong central government to make certain provisions.

Gregory:     So, he redefined liberty from just being the absence of someone controlling you arbitrarily.

Gary:          Yes, to the promise of assistance in allowing you to enjoy and achieve your full potential and that is, if you think about it, that’s what modern liberalism is, right? It’s a series of supports, a series of remedies to help against the casual brutality of economic life, misfortune, poverty, various inequalities in the larger society, things that hold us back.

Gregory:     So, modern liberalism isn’t liberal at all.

Gary:          Not by 18th century standards, no. 

Gregory:     Did FDR use the term liberal?  And were conservatives upset that the term had been redefined?

Gary:          Yes, he did, and Theodore Roosevelt did not, so what’s relevant about that is that everything Franklin Roosevelt does, he models on older cousin Teddy, who was his hero, but Teddy is a progressive. He’s not a liberal.  Franklin Roosevelt is the first liberal.

Gary:          One of the things that bothers Herbert Hoover most is that Roosevelt not only stole the presidency from him, but he stole the term liberalism. Liberalism was no longer negative liberty, you know, freeing the individual from constraints. Liberalism was now positive liberty, and his point was exactly your point. Liberalism had become something else entirely, so it was a betrayal of the term and the philosophy, and he will ultimately call himself a conservative, but conservative’s not really the right word for what he was.

Gregory:     So, the expansion of federal government in the ’30s and ’40s arose from the challenge of the depression and the expansion of government and governmental powers, as well from the increased taxation needed to run a world war.

Gary:          Right.

Gregory:     Now, please take us into the Cold War in the late 1940s and ‘50s. What happened in the Cold War era that led to the expansion of central government power?

Gary:          Well, the critical question in 1945 and 1946 is, would the powers that the central government had taken in depression and war survive? The model in America is that, like Andrew Jackson’s army, the government expands and collapses as needed. This is the model. The war’s over. The army shrinks. The Union Army has, in the Civil War, three million men under arms at its maximum power. By 1890, it has 25,000 soldiers.  In World War I, it has four to five million men under arms. By the 1920s, it’s down to 120,000, and the kind of the social and governmental infrastructure also gets dismantled after those previous wars.

Gary:          But now this new threat arises and the Cold War is a different kind of war. It’s a war that happens without an official declaration of war and it’s also the first war in human history where the principal antagonists can’t really fight each other because if they do, the world is destroyed. Well, then how do you fight? You fight through proxies, you fight through various kinds of competitions. You gear for the long term, but there can be no quick decisive victory. So this is not only a war without an officially declared beginning, it also is a war without end. It becomes the longest war in which America was involved, from 1946 to 1989, so almost a half century.

Gary:          America decides, because the threat from the Soviet Union is regarded as being so severe and so existential, both because literally they have the ability to blow us up and because Communism represents the negation of everything that America stands for, that America has to maintain the kind of large military establishment that it had never wanted to have before. So what Andrew Jackson didn’t want and what other Americans didn’t want, a large standing army, comes to America for the first time through the Cold War era.

Gary:          Republicans acquiesced to this, and it also meant acquiescing to a large government, which otherwise I think they would’ve taken down because they believe that the greatest menace to America is not the New Deal or a welfare state, which they sort of believe, but they believe that the Communist threat was so great that America had to stay on a war footing, which meant a large standing army for the first time in its history. Then you get a military industrial complex. Also, there was the understanding that the Soviets had to be fought in every realm, not just militarily, but you were competing against them economically, you were competing against them  to demonstrate who was taking better care of their people. So Republicans acquiesced to what the New Deal had set up. They acquiesced to a state of positive liberty.

Gary:          What would we expect a Republican president to do today? Imagine this kind of transformation in every sector of the economy, which is what Roosevelt had accomplished. Well, the Republicans today would want to get in there and take the whole thing down, everything down. But Eisenhower gets into office and says, ‘”We can’t do that. We are competing against the Soviets in every sphere of life. We have to demonstrate that our people, every one of our people has a better set of life chances than any communist regime has. That requires us to have a state of positive liberty that establishes certain levels of decency and opportunity. We can’t go back to the pre-New Deal environment because that is going to put us at too great a vulnerability in terms of waging the “Cold War.”

Gary:          So Eisenhower even acquiesces. Imagine this, think about this for a minute. What do you think the taxation rate on private incomes was, the highest marginal rate coming out of World War II?  It was 91% at the highest marginal rate.

Gary:          This was put up there and it went up to 75% in the New Deal and then it went up to 91% in World War II. So what’s the first thing we would expect a Republican president to do when he finally gets into office? Tear that down. Eisenhower does not do that. He says, “You have an obligation as citizens to pay taxes so we can take care of everybody and so we can wage this global fight against Communism.’” The global nature and the open-ended nature of this contest is critical because you’re fighting it everywhere, and because it’s open-ended. You just have to do certain things for the long term. So the Republicans end up being crucial to preserving the state of positive liberty that Roosevelt and the Democrats had erected under the New Deal and which Republicans today regard as the most devastating development in American life.

Gregory:     So the GOP adopts positive liberty because of the Soviet threat. And the central state is also fiscally flush. Now take us from here into the Civil Rights Movement.

Gary:          Well, it turns out the U.S. has to compete with the Soviets on the race question because this is a global war and there’s a feeling that the winner gets to be decided not just by one’s own strength but how many allies one has among the countries in the world. This is the great moment of decolonization. In fact, we should see the Civil Rights moment as an event in a longer history of decolonization, of freeing the subjugated peoples of color.

Gary:          So the Soviet Union and the United States are competing for the allegiance of what was then called the Third World. Whose side are they going to be on? Anytime there’s a serious racial disturbance or mistreatment of blacks in the United States, propaganda agencies of the Soviet Union broadcast it to the entire world. So suddenly the internal race problem of the U.S. is global issue number one in the Cold War. So the elites in the U.S. on the one hand and popular protest on the other are mobilizing to face the issue that can no longer be avoided.

Gary:          If you want to solve the problem of race in America, you have to strip the states of their police power because the states under traditional jurisprudence Constitutionalism were free to do in their states what they wanted to do. If they wanted to have a Jim Crow regime, they would have a Jim Crow regime. So in the 1960s, the Supreme Court under Earl Warren resolves finally to strip the states of their police power, or at least to make that police power subject to the Bill of Rights, the federal Bill of Rights. So what was not done in 1790 is done in the 1960s and it’s close to a revolution from above because these states have been operating with their traditional police powers for 150 years.

Gregory:     Wow.  At this point, I think it’s important to understand the two strategies used by the Supreme Court: incorporation and substantive due process.

Gary:          Yes. Incorporation is the simpler one. This is a judicial term which asks, ‘”Are the states incorporated under the Bill of Rights?’” Which simply means, are they bound by the Bill of Rights? The 14th Amendment has a clause in it that states cannot discriminate on the basis of race and other ascriptive characteristics. It was thought at the time by many of the framers of the 14th Amendment that this actually gave the federal government the power to incorporate the states on the Bill of Rights. But because of a series of judicial decisions taken in the 1870s and 1880s, the Supreme Court decides that the 14th Amendment in fact is not doing this. So it takes a different Court… and it really is the Warren Court, although it begins somewhat earlier, it takes a different Court to say the 14th Amendment actually does bind the states to the Bill of Rights.

Gary:          Now, what’s complicated about this is that there can be no general edict by the Court because that’s not how the Court works. Every right that an American has, has to be adjudicated on its own terms through a series of cases that gradually make their way up to the Supreme Court. So it’s a very time consuming and laborious process. It actually begins in the late 1920s and then goes through the 1960s with the Warren Court being the climax of it. On every right that a citizen is thought to have or not have and whether the states have to respect that right, every one of these has to be litigated individually. So it’s an extraordinarily time consuming process that takes 40 years. But at the end when Earl Warren retires in the late 60s and people are asking him why he’s retired, he says, “Well, I’m old and I’m tired. But I can also say now that the states have been substantially incorporated under the Bill of Rights. So my life’s work is accomplished.”

Gary:          This is an extraordinary moment and development in American life. Substantive due process is much more complicated. Let me first explain it in terms of liberty of contract because it’s easier to understand. The substantive due process, it took me a year just to hold that phrase in my mind. The 14th Amendment says, “No person shall be deprived of life, liberty, whatever, without due process of law.” That seems to suggest that if you got to deprive anyone of liberty, you must do it through due process. You must give them their rights, you must give them a trial, they have an opportunity to litigate it. It must be done with what the Constitution regards as due process. But another question arises. What is liberty? So the 14th Amendment says, ‘”You will not deprive people of liberty.’” Well, the framers of the 14th Amendment had the liberty of slaves in mind. You will not deprive a person of their liberty and enslave them without due process of law.

Gary:          But of course, liberty has many meanings as we’ve been discussing. So the question comes up in the 1870s, and in the 1980s, do corporations have liberty under the 14th Amendment? Of course, in that circumstance, do they have the freedom to buy and sell as they wish without government interference? The Supreme Court first defines them as persons, which they have to do in order to protect them for the 14th Amendment. But then it says, “Yes, liberty in the 14th Amendment means freedom of contract.” This is nowhere stated in the 14th Amendment. There’s nothing about liberty of contract in the 14th Amendment. This is imparting substance to due process. So we have to not only make sure that people, if a contract is violated, they can take it to court and have due process, we also have to decide as a court what is liberty, and liberty changes.

Gary:          So we are going to impart liberty of contract even though it’s not mentioned. In the 1960s, substantive due process comes up like this, do women have reproductive rights? Do they have a right to an abortion? It’s nowhere stated in the Constitution. Justice William Douglas invents a doctrine of privacy, but he says is inherent in the shadows of the constitution. By this doctrine of privacy… which is loosely connected to liberty, right? Because what is liberty? Liberty is the freedom to do things on your own if they’re not harming other people and especially the freedom to do things in your own home, which is your castle and no government can invade there except under the most extreme circumstances. So he says that women have the right to use birth control by this doctrine of privacy which is in the shadows of the Constitution and is embedded in this concept of liberty which is in the Constitution.

Gary:          It’s another example of imparting new substance to the meaning of liberty. What is substantive due process? It’s a way of finding new rights in the Constitution that are not mentioned in the Constitution and are not enumerated. It’s a way of what Louis Brandeis said was making an ancient Constitution that can’t be changed a living document. Given that you can’t amend the Constitution by including a right to privacy within it, we are going to reinterpret liberty as though it encompasses privacy and privacy entails the ability to control your own body as you see fit. So it becomes a mechanism for changing the Constitution, updating it to address problems that the founders had not anticipated and you need to do this because the Constitution itself can’t be changed.

Gary:          I mean, the straightforward way of doing this would be in the 19th century to pass a constitutional amendment that says, “The Constitution guarantees freedom of contract, laissez-faire.” In the 1960s, the way to do this would be to say the Constitution guarantees the right to privacy. But people don’t think that can be done so they find a way of changing the Constitution without changing it. That’s what’s so important about substantive due process. Here the anti-miscegenation laws which still prevailed in I think more than 20 states are declared unconstitutional in 1967 in Loving v. Virginia on these grounds, “That this is a matter of private liberty that no government has the right to interfere with.” Once Loving v. Virginia is decided by the Supreme Court all the state laws preventing marriage across the color lines suddenly and immediately become unconstitutional.

Gregory:     So how do all these shifts in understanding of government power manifest themselves today and hasn’t there been a profound conservative backlash?

Gary:          The root of what the Warren Court and liberals are doing in the 60s is the root of the utter divide on the proper scope of government that divides Democrats and Republicans today. It really originates from the 1960s and you can see both sides of the argument. I try and convey a respect for both sides of the argument. Conservatives say, “You can’t have unelected judges making all these decisions about what rights Americans have and don’t have. This should be done legislatively by the people. If legislatures want to pass laws, giving women birth control and so on and so forth, let them do it.” This is a slippery slope that’s going to make judges the governors of America and in that situation that people will no longer rule.

Gary:          The liberals say, “We’ve been struggling with this race issue for 150 years. We have no hope of giving African-Americans a full complement of rights unless we override the police powers of the individual states and enforce the Bill of Rights on everybody. This has to be done for elemental reason of social justice. If that requires us to take some more liberties with the Constitution through this doctrine called substantive due process, we will do it.” 

Gregory:     Was this done for reasons of social justice or for fear that country would soon become no longer viable?

Gary:          Well, both, but I think the America in the 60s is a hundred years beyond the Civil War and the problem of racial equality isn’t: It is as intense a hundred years later. So they have to keep the country together but they also feel that this is something that simply has to be done. So the liberals take their stand with the liberal Constitution and the conservatives are going to take their stand with originalism, right?

Gregory:     But didn’t the Warren Court’s achievements rest on an insecure foundation?

Gary:          This gets us back to the question of how do you dismantle police powers? How do you grant women fundamental rights when you have a Constitution that for all intents and purposes can’t be changed? If we imagine a different precedent, a different history, we could imagine a group of jurors sitting around and saying, “Police power belongs with the central government not with the states. If we’re going to have a general power to look after the good and welfare of the Commonwealth, let’s give that to Washington since they spend a lot of their time doing that anyway. Then if we transfer this to the central government, that police power will be bound by the Bill of Rights. So it will be less unfettered than it was with the state. So it will be better because it’ll give the central government a kind of broad power that many Americans have long wanted it to have. But we’ll also at the same time make sure that that strong centralized power is not used inappropriately.” That can’t be done. That would require a constitutional amendment. So what the liberal jurisprudence school, and the Warren Court is the highest expression of that, what they undertake to do, their fundamental point, is, we can’t really change the Constitution. We have to interpret it liberally. We have to update it. We have to make it relevant. We have to find in this document rights that are not enumerated, but that we’re going to insist that Americans have. That requires them to take certain liberties with Constitutional interpretation. That raises the question of whether this is something a Court should be doing or whether these are matters to be decided democratically by the people. So I find myself in the position of having some sympathy for the conservative critique of the Warren court because the Warren Court arguably did go beyond its remit constitutionally.

Gary:          But I also think if I was on the Warren court in the 1960s, I would have taken the steps that the liberal jurists on the court took to make the Bill of Rights the law of the land. Because I would have felt with them that the cause of racial justice and the difficulty of achieving it is such a gargantuan problem in American life that the kind of settlement the Warren Court reached in the ’60s was essential to securing it. If they had not done that, I’m not sure they would have been able to dismantle the regimes of Jim Crow in the southern states.

Gary:          The ’60s were a very scary time and there was a sense that America could not hold. I mean, the scale and the seriousness of protests over civil rights, Vietnam—these were incredibly intense. You throw into that the assassinations of two Kennedys and Martin Luther King and you have some sense of a country coming apart. But I also think it wasn’t just concern over viability, it was a deep conviction on the part of liberal jurists that the meaning of the 14th Amendment had been perverted after the Civil War. Now it’s hard for jurists to overturn a precedent that has stood for by that time almost a hundred years and they have not completely restored the 14th Amendment to what they think its original meaning was. But they’ve restored more of its original meaning. So in a sense, the Warren Court jurists were acting as originalists as it pertains to the 14th Amendment. That is not a matter of viability, that’s a matter of right and wrong.

Gregory:     I hope you enjoyed this. I did.

Gary:          I have, tremendously. 

“White People” and the Origins of the Politics of Victimhood

The Murder of Jane McCrae by John Vanderlyn, Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, Connecticut

June 2022

In 1988, the last year of the Reagan presidency, Shelby Steele, a black conservative writer in Northern California, published an influential and widely read essay in Harper’s Magazine in which he warned of the demoralizing effects the politics of victimhood can have on African Americans. In the U.S., he wrote, racial politics is fundamentally about power, and one of the primary tactics in the ongoing struggle between whites and blacks is to wrap one’s group in a cloak of innocence.

Innocence, that “feeling of essential goodness in relation to others” can lead to a sense of entitlement, Steele wrote.1 It gives people license to abuse or exploit or punish any group they convince themselves is less deserving than their own. Thus, innocence is a form of power.

White racists have always clung to the idea of their own innocence. The primary source of this innocence has been the moral inferiority—or guilt—of the targets of their racism.

It was during the civil rights movement that black activists were able to flip the script and also claim innocence, the source of which was the victimization they had endured for centuries at the hands of whites. It was that feeling of innocence—and the concomitant recognition of white guilt—that gave blacks their first real power in American life. In short, victimization became innocence, which was transformed into power.

Steele’s concern with this dynamic was that it provided African Americans with a perverse incentive to celebrate rather than overcome historic wounds, which could, ironically, lock people into a form of passivity. In other words, if victimhood is someone’s source of power—and pointing fingers can reap benefits—one might become incapable of developing the strength and skills to overcome life’s inevitable challenges.

While Steele’s insights were undoubtedly cogent, he was likely unaware of the central role victimhood played in the emergence of white racial identity before the founding of the United States. Indeed, white racial victimhood was a primary source of power and self-justification for settlers who served as shock troops for a nation George Washington called “an infant empire.”2

***

The first people in mainland North America to refer to themselves as “white” arrived in South Carolina from Barbados in the late seventeenth century. They were part of a general exodus from the overpopulated island that had the distinction of being the first British colony to employ mass numbers of enslaved Africans. The first English settlers to Barbados brought with them ten slaves in 1627. As planters moved toward a labor-intensive sugar monoculture and as English servants proved incapable of working well in the tropics, more Africans were imported. Within three decades, they outnumbered whites on the island.

In 1661, Barbados adopted the first comprehensive slave code in the British empire. The goal of this new regime was to manage and police the African majority. Having no precedent in English law, the colonists created a legal code that divided the islanders between white masters and black slaves. The problem, however, was that not all whites were masters. Outnumbered and fearful of uprisings, the planter class began encouraging white servants—often vagrants, criminals, and religious exiles from Scotland and Ireland, as well as England—to identify themselves by the pale skin color they shared with planters rather than the propertyless, low class status they shared with Africans. In this context, the idea of whiteness emerged from the landed class’s efforts to ensure that poor servants would never take the slaves’ side in an uprising. It was this emerging white identity— along with the racial scheme undergirding the Barbados slave code—that Barbadians took with them to South Carolina. The slave code they brought inspired similar statutes in other mainland colonies.

It took another sixty years after the arrival of Barbadians in South Carolina before the term “white people” began to appear in the Northern colonies.

However, by the 1750s, in the middle colonies, references to people being white were made almost exclusively to distinguish Europeans not from Africans, but from Native Americans. In Pennsylvania, Britain’s most diverse colony that would later become an important gateway into the interior, “white” was not a term employed by coastal elites to maintain power. Instead, it emerged on the frontier as common settlers of varying religions and national origins began to seek common cause with one another in their violent struggle with Native Americans over Indian land.

***

On March 9, 1782, roughly five months after the end of the siege of Yorktown—which is often called the last decisive battle of the Revolutionary War—about 160 Pennsylvania militiamen massacred 96 pacifist Christian Indians in Gnadenhutten, Ohio. The Revolution in the trans-Appalachian West was as much about land as it was about liberty. While competition over territory was an old story, the Revolution in the West gave settlers a patriotic justification for killing Indians. Soldiers in western Pennsylvania looked for and claimed land where they could settle after the war. Officers tried in vain to restrain men who scratched their names or initials on trees in the woods. Because conflict on the frontier was fought mostly among neighbors, the stakes—land—were high. And so was the ferocity. The American Revolution in the backwoods was total war, where prisoners were as likely to be mutilated as they were to be taken prisoner. In the end, the American victory was a disaster for Indian peoples on the frontier.

After nearly two centuries of deep ties with Euro-Americans, most Native Americans in the east were dependent on the transatlantic marketplace and its consumer goods. When the Revolutionary War broke out in 1775, both Britons and Americans lobbied major tribes for their support. If Indians wanted continued access to anything from guns to European cloth, alcohol, metal kettles and pans, or glass mirrors, they were essentially obliged to take sides in a war that wasn’t of their making. Each Indian group assessed the potential material benefits of siding with either the British or the Americans, while others sought desperately to remain neutral. By war’s end, however, in part because of how badly the Americans treated even their Native allies, most Indians wound up backing the British.

The Delaware Indians at Gnadenhutten, about ninety miles west of Pittsburgh, had begun to move to the Ohio Country in 1772 as hostile European settlers pushed them westward from Pennsylvania. Converted to Christianity by Moravian missionaries, a German-speaking utopian sect that had a comparatively compassionate approach to Native Americans, the Moravian Delawares were pacificist neutrals. At the same time, their missionary sponsors, however, were secretly passing intelligence to the Americans at Fort Pitt. So, in effect, the village was unofficially supportive of the American war effort. But that wasn’t enough to save them.

Every year, the Pennsylvania militia sent a punitive expedition to the Ohio Country to subdue Indians with whom they were in conflict. Rarely did they find them. But that didn’t matter. In the previous two decades, Euro-American settlers stopped making distinctions be- tween friendly and hostile Indians, between those who were responsible for attacks on their frontier settlements and those who were simply guilty of being Native.

The massacre at Gnadenhutten was not an unprecedented event. By the late eighteenth century, Euro-American settlers repeatedly retaliated for Indian attacks by killing neutral or even friendly Native Americans. What made the Gnadenhutten Massacre infamous—Benjamin Franklin called the murders “abominable”—was the number of victims, their religion, and the fact that thirty-nine of them were children.3 The stark contrast between the cold-blooded killing and the Indians’ dignified religious devotion was also particularly heartbreaking.

On March 6, 1782, Joseph Shabosh, the son of a Christian Indian woman and a European missionary, encountered the militia on a road about a mile from the village of Gnadenhutten. He hit the ground and broke his arm after they fired several shots at him. Assuming that they’d mistaken him for someone else, he identified himself as a Christian Indian. He soon realized that his identity made no difference to the militiamen, and he begged them to spare his life. A few of the men then seized him and chopped his body into pieces.

The militia then approached the Indians working in a cornfield and told them they had come to protect them from other Native groups who were allied with the British. They sent them to their homes to pack their belongings for a trip to Fort Pitt, where they’d be safe. The Indians in the nearby Moravian village of Salem were given the same instructions. The residents of both towns were told to meet in Gnadenhutten, where they were asked to hand over all their weapons to the American militia, for their protection. At some point, the militiamen debated what to do with the Indians, and despite some internal dissent, they ultimately decided to execute them for being enemy warriors and raiders. Their proof was that the Moravian Indians used such items as teakettles, pewter basins, and spoons. Instead of signs of being Europeanized, it was clear in the minds of the militiamen that the items, which the soldiers later plundered, had to have been stolen.

The Indians started preparing their souls for death by singing hymns and praying aloud in unison. The militia dragged them into their huts by twos and threes and bludgeoned them to death with a cooper’s mallet they had taken from one of the Indians. Some were scalped alive. Others had their corpses cut up. The houses were then set on fire.

Not only did no one face any form of punishment for their actions, but the expedition’s commander, David Williamson, would later be elected sheriff of Washington County, Pennsylvania. When General George Washington got news of the massacre, he knew British-allied Indians, particularly non-Moravian Delawares, would be out for revenge. He ordered that no American soldiers should allow themselves to be taken alive. This was the state of Indian/Euro-American relations in which the Revolutionary War would come to an end and a new nation would be born.

Today, anyone can visit the site of the massacre at Gnadenhutten. It’s a somber place where a humble burial mound rises next to the parking lot. The skeletal remains of the bodies were placed in a pit years after the murders. In 1872, ninety years after the massacre, a thirty-five-foot-tall obelisk was erected in honor of the victims. Some log cabin replicas were placed around the nine-acre memorial site. Outside the cabin nearest the obelisk stands a sign that can easily startle you if you’ve been walking through the memorial thinking of those in whose honor it was created. It reads: “Birthplace of First White Child Born in Ohio.”

Gnadenhutten Park & Museum (Photo by Gregory Rodriguez)

****

From the start, Pennsylvania was unique among British colonies. Its Quaker founder, William Penn, had an enli- ghtened vision for the territory he had been granted by the King of England. He wanted it to be a place governed by the spirit of cooperation and toleration rather than coercion. The Delawares, the first Native Americans Penn and thousands of English and Welsh Quakers encountered, were also predisposed to get along with the settlers. They already had had good relationships with previous European newcomers, including the Dutch and Swedes. So when Penn arrived expressing his desire to pay for Indian land and to treat Natives fairly, his overtures were welcomed.

New Englanders had fought bloody Indian wars short- ly after their arrival. So did Virginians in the Chesapeake Bay. But Pennsylvania enjoyed nearly seventy-five years of peace. It’s not that there had not been conflict in those early years between Europeans and Native Americans. The Europeans wanted what the Indians had: land. Conflict was inevitable. It helped, at first, however, that the territory west of Philadelphia was nearly empty and the Delawares could move there after Penn had purchased their ancestral lands to the east.

Early English and Welsh Quaker settlers set the tone for the colony. The Quakers were pacifists and didn’t establish a colonial militia. Pennsylvania then became the only colony where the Native Americans were better armed than the colonists. That fact alone encouraged the Europeans to cooperate. Unlike Massachusetts, whose Puritan founders were interested in finding safe haven only for their own religious beliefs, the Quakers welcomed other religious dissenters. The first German-speaking migrants to arrive in the colony were Mennonites invited by Penn himself. They were soon joined by German Quakers. In the early years of German-speaking migration to Pennsylvania, most settlers were members of small, persecuted religious sects, such as the Schwenkfelders, Dunkers, and Moravians. It didn’t take long for the colony to develop a reputation as an asylum for Europe’s oppressed religious minorities. That and the plentiful available farmland turned Pennsylvania into what some called “the best poor man’s country in the world.”4

By the early eighteenth century, German speakers made up the largest segment of the population. (The first large group of Amish arrived in Lancaster County in the 1720s.) Again, unlike New England, whose colonists tended to live in tightly knit villages, the settlers in Pennsylvania who spread out from Philadelphia sought the best plots of land and established dispersed family farms.

Rising European immigration fueled a demographic explosion. German-speakers from the Rhineland and Scots from the Lowlands and Ulster began pouring into the colony. Chronically short of laborers, entrepreneurs recruited workers who came for economic rather than religious reasons. The sheer number of new arrivals— plus the fact that the population doubled every eighteen years—pushed settlers westward.

By the 1720s, English, German, and Scotch-Irish mi- grants had started settling farther inland near the Susquehanna River. When the population was sparse and the colonial government could control the pace of expansion with purchases of Indian land, Euro-Americans and Natives were able to forge some sort of understanding and cooperation. Even when competing over land and resources, European settlers and Indians often created alliances and some level of mutual accommodation. Historian Jane T. Merritt points to the Moravian Christians as a symbol of the cultural hybridity of the early-eighteenth-century Pennsylvania frontier. Just as some Delaware were attracted to European religion, plenty of Europeans adopted aspects of Native culture that helped them better negotiate their new environment. As long as the frontier remained relatively open, Europeans and Indians could find ways to live and trade together.

The Europeans, however, tended to live in their separate ethnic and religious enclaves. The dispersed nature of the population, the colony’s live-and-let-live ethos, and the absence of any type of conscripted militia service ensured that the population would rarely mix and cultural—and linguistic—barriers between them would remain high. German speakers, who were dividing themselves among a variety of groups and dialects, tended to adhere to their native tongue and maintained their own local newspapers.

Ethnic tensions among Europeans would only grow as immigration continued apace. Benjamin Franklin famously complained about the “Palatine Boors,” referring to newcomers from the German Palatinate region.5 Colonial authorities openly worried about the large numbers of rough-natured Presbyterian Scotch-Irish, who themselves were not so fond of the English. Between 1700 and 1750, Pennsylvania’s diverse Euro-American population grew from 18,000 to 120,000.

Beginning in the 1730s, German and particularly Scotch-Irish settlers—who were often at odds with one another—were moving west of the Susquehanna River. Local Indians understandably resented the new settlements, many of which were on land that had not been ceded by Native Americans, sparking violent clashes. At the same time, significant numbers of Delawares, Shawnees, and others continued to move farther west. By the late 1740s, Shawnees and Delawares were well ensconced in new communities of the Ohio Country, west of the Alleghenies. They came to view the other side of the mountain’s endless ridges and valleys as their safe haven from European incursions.

Native Americans weren’t the only ones frustrated with unauthorized settlement on Indian land. Pennsylvania authorities knew squatters generally undermined the rule of law and only heightened tensions with Native Americans. Provincial Secretary James Logan, who had first considered the tough Scotch-Irish the perfect people to live on the border of Indian Country, given their history as border-taming Protestant colonists in the northernmost province of Catholic Ireland, later confessed that the “audacious and disorderly”6 habits of the migrants from Ulster made them “troublesome settlers to the government and hard neighbors to the Indians.”7

While Indians moved west to distance themselves from expanding European settlement, they had no intention of isolating themselves from the world of transatlantic trade. It didn’t take long for Euro-American traders to follow the Pennsylvania Indians who settled on the Allegheny Plateau. In exchange for consumer goods, they bought pelts, which they exported to Europe. In the course of time, Euro-American blacksmiths and gunsmiths from the east were welcome among the Ohio Indians.

And Pennsylvania’s colonial authorities didn’t want to lose touch with fleeing tribes, either. By the 1740s and 1750s, Pennsylvania was competing with the French for access to Indian trade in Ohio. La Belle Rivière, as the French called the Ohio River, was critical to connecting and securing the future of their colonies in Canada and Louisiana. The Ohio Indians were quick to learn the value of playing the two European nations against each other in order to get the best prices for their trade. Both Pennsylvania and France vied for their loyalty.

Pennsylvania wasn’t the only colony with its eyes on the Ohio Country. In the late 1740s, Virginia staked a claim to the territory and began sending expeditions there that directly challenged French ambitions. What had begun as a refuge for migrating tribes now became a site of imperial conflict. Out of this collision of competing interests emerged the French and Indian War, in which Britain and France fought over control of North America. Knowing the difference between the British and French imperial strategies—the French emphasized alliances and strategically placed forts, while the British conquered via settlers—Ohio Indians chose to align with the French and make war on Pennsylvania, whose settlers had pushed them off their lands.

***

On October 16, 1755, Delaware and Shawnee warriors swooped down from their home base in Kittanning on the Allegheny Plateau to attack Europeans who had settled a few miles west of the Susquehanna River. They killed at least thirteen settlers and captured another twenty-eight. Several were scalped. For the next three years, Pennsylvania’s frontier was targeted by stealthy, precision attacks that left settlers in terror and disarray. In addition to the element of surprise, the attacks were far from indiscriminate. Indeed, they were personal, which made them all the more terrifying. The warriors knew who they were attacking, and the settlers knew the names of their attackers. They had once been neighbors.

In November 1755, when a small group of seven or eight Indian warriors attacked the family of Henry Kobel in Bethany Township, Pennsylvania, they spoke to the children in High German. “Be still, we won’t hurt you,” they said before killing their parents.8 Not long after, another settler was captured by Indian warriors who he said spoke English as well as he did. The objective of the Indian attacks was to drive the settlers off the land. In the first two years of the war, Indians had killed at least 326 European settlers and captured 125 more. But perhaps even more horrifying for the settlers was the way warriors sometimes mutilated the bodies of their victims, men and women found with their breasts hacked off or with a tomahawk sticking out of a man’s groin. The mutilated bodies were sometimes left at crossroads, where they were most likely to be seen. The violence was clearly designed to strike terror in the larger settler community.

And it worked. Settlers became refugees and began to rewind the process of colonization. They abandoned their farms and fled chaotically toward the east and south to find refuge in the larger, better-protected towns that they had passed through on their way to the back- country. Contemporary accounts describe men in their bare feet and women with young children on their backs, roads packed with wagons crammed full of families’ belongings. As the attacks continued, historian Peter Silver has written, “more Europeans of more miscellaneous backgrounds came into closer contact with each other than had ever been the case in the province before.”9

This diverse group of refugees met along the roads and in emergency meetings where they discussed how they would respond to the attacks. As new ties between strangers formed, a defensive community emerged. The settlers, writes Silver in his 2000 Yale dissertation, “rapidly grew less choosy about who its members were.”10 What they shared was the feeling of terror and a growing hatred for Native Americans. War is always horrible, but the particularly intimate character of the attacks—the fact that they knew the men who conducted them—left the settlers with an even deeper sense of anger and betrayal. In making sense of their predicament, refugee settlers also cast blame not just on the Indians who attacked them, but even on friendly or neutral groups who they now felt must have been complicit in the aggression. Before the attacks, settlers were more capable of making distinctions between friendly Indians and those who threatened them. But the raids made the settlers’ views of Indians both more harsh and more uniform. By 1758, when Native groups had agreed to drop their support for the French in their war effort, European settlers were beyond making distinctions between friends and foes. In fact, for many settlers it was simply easier to direct their anger at nearby allied Indians than at the perpetrators who rode in from far away.

But angry settlers also blamed the colonial government, particularly the Quakers who controlled the Assembly, for not protecting them from Indian attacks. Settlers had begged for military assistance, but Pennsylvania’s government had initially been unresponsive. Both the governor and many members of the Assembly thought the settlers had provoked the violence in the first place by encroaching on unceded Indian land. In blaming the Quakers for their plight, writes historian Kevin Kenny, the settlers “reduced the Assembly to Quakerism and Quakerism to pacificism.”11 Significantly, according to historian Matthew C. Ward, it may have been the Indian raids during the French and Indian War that led Pennsylvania’s backcountry settlers to fully arm themselves.

It was during this time that the term “white people” emerged as the most common description of the settlers who had suffered attacks by French-allied Indians. Previously, reports of Indian attacks sometimes referenced Presbyterian Irish victims or German Mennonites or Lutherans, but they more often would use the term “English” as a synonym for non-Indians. Silver suggests that at a time when backcountry settlers were drawing an ever-stronger distinction between Indians and non-Indians, the “conspicuously poor fit that ‘English’ made, even as a convenient blanket term, gave rise to a new generic term.”12

When public figures or the press wanted to refer to the group of Europeans who suffered under the weight of Indian attacks, they’d increasingly use “white people.” Initially, it was not a racial term—because Quakers were not included—but a political one that defined a community of interest who shared a growing disdain for Native Americans and the desire to kick pacifist Quakers out of Pennsylvania politics.

At the same time, in part to persuade the colonial government to act on their behalf, Pennsylvania’s settlers began to refer to the frontier as the “bleeding country,” a term that only fed their sense of themselves as an ag- grieved people.13 The emerging community of white people was thrown together by their shared suffering at the hands of Indians. Their shared grievance—and disdain for both Indians and Quakers—was greater than their distrust of one another.

***

The political articulation of the settlers’ victim mentality was fully formed by 1764 after the French and Indian War had come to an end and another, larger Indian front pushed back against the British garrisons that had taken over the territory now ceded by the French. As early as 1758, well before the war ended and after the French- allied Native groups had buried the hatchet with the British, traders, hunters, and settlers took to the two military roads the British had forged westward during their war with the French. Some former refugees simply sought to reoccupy the farms they had abandoned, while others were eager to stake out new claims farther west in the Ohio Country. With the French defeated, and with easier routes built through the Appalachians, moving farther west no longer seemed as daunting to Euro-Americans looking for game, Native trading partners, and land.

In the summer of 1763, a loose confederation of Native American groups took up arms to push back the British encroachment. While many historians have called this event Pontiac’s War or Rebellion—after the Ottawa chief—historian Michael N. McConnell has aptly referred to it as “the Defensive War of 1763.”14 For the second time in a decade, settlements in western Pennsylvania came under siege. But this time, the settlers were more hardened than they had been when the first raids began in 1755. The fear and anger they’d experienced had forged in them an aggressive intransigence toward Native Americans.

Making matters worse, in early December 1763, news arrived that King George III had issued a proclamation prohibiting all European settlement west of the crest of the Appalachians. The idea was to discourage westward expansion and keep Europeans and Native Americans on opposite sides of the mountains. While many would come to ignore the invisible line—the British didn’t have the wherewithal to enforce it—news of the policy nonetheless enhanced the frontier settlers’ sense that neither the colonial nor the British governments had their interests in mind.

In the same year, a group of Scotch-Irish volunteers formed an armed group called the Paxton Boys, dedicated to patrolling the countryside to protect against Indian attacks. Still furious over the colony’s unwillingness to defend them and frustrated by their inability to punish enemy warriors, they eventually turned their suspicions—and anger—on Christian Indians such as the Moravians and the Conestogas. While the latter weren’t Christian, they too had adopted European-style dress, housing, and farming techniques. The Paxton Boys accused all these “friendly” Indians of aiding the Native groups who were attacking European settlements. As a preemptive measure, the colonial government evacuated all the willing Moravian Indians to barracks in Philadelphia, where the Paxton Boys could not reach them. The Conestogas, however, stayed put, perhaps feeling that they had long benefited from the protection of Pennsylvania. Indeed, the Conestoga Indians had signed a treaty in 1701 with none other than William Penn himself. The treaty stated that the signatories shall forever live “as one head & one Heart, & live in true Friendship & Amity as one People.”15 A copy of the treaty was one of the items found in the ashes of their village, Conestoga Manor, after more than fifty Paxton Boys came through on the morning of December 14, 1763, and killed and scalped six sleeping Indians—two men, three women, and a child—and burned their houses.

Most of the Conestogas survived that day because they were out selling brooms and baskets. When they returned, authorities from nearby Lancaster placed them in the county workhouse under protective custody. Two weeks later, however, another gang of about fifty Paxton Boys rode into the center of Lancaster with muskets and scalping knives, brushed aside minimal security, and hacked the remaining fourteen Conestogas—eight of them children—to pieces. The slaughter took all of eleven or twelve minutes. One of the Paxton Boys reportedly ran off bragging about having killed “a whole Tribe! a Nation at once.”16

Despite some effort by colonial authorities, no one was arrested for the murders. Nor could any witnesses be found to testify against men who openly bragged about their roles in the slaughter. Eastern Pennsylvanians, however, were appalled by the massacres, and colonial authorities were shaken by what they considered an insurrection in the west. Indeed, the hatred the Paxton Boys felt for Native Americans only slightly over- shadowed their disdain for what they saw as a callous, uncaring colonial government. During the rebellion, and months thereafter, the presses of Philadelphia published scores of pamphlets arguing in favor and against the actions and intentions of the Paxton Boys. The combination of the Paxton rebellion and the ensuing pamphlet war only further divided eastern and western Pennsylvania. More significantly, it further unified westerners.

***

While the white people were an amalgam of European groups, the Scotch-Irish were the ones who most profoundly influenced the cultural contours of this emerging community. Some scholars have argued that the Scotch-Irish disappeared in the course of Americanization. But what’s more likely is that other European-origin groups became more like the Scotch-Irish. Thus, as historian Warren R. Hofstra has suggested, as a distinct people, the Scotch-Irish “vanished in plain sight.”17

Benjamin Franklin didn’t much like Pennsylvania’s Germans, but his antipathy for the Scotch-Irish was even greater. Because of their shared Calvinist origins, Franklin tended to lump New England Congregationalists and Pennsylvania’s Scotch-Irish Presbyterians together. He considered them both bigoted and intolerant of anyone who dared to disagree with them. In Pennsylvania politics, Franklin was aligned with the Quakers, many of whom condescended to the more rough-hewn Scotch-Irish settlers.

On some level, the pamphlet wars over the Paxton Boys were as much about European interethnic rivalry and emerging notions of racial difference as they were about the horrible fate of the Conestogas. Franklin published an incendiary narrative of the massacres in which he called the Scotch-Irish vigilantes “CHRISTIAN WHITE SAVAGES.”18 He mocked the notion that all Indians were alike and therefore equally deserving of the Paxton Boys’ acts of revenge. “If an Indian injures me, does it follow that I may revenge that Injury on all Indians? It is well known that Indians are of different Tribes, Nations, and Languages, as well as the White People. In Europe, if the French, who are White People, should injure the Dutch, are they to revenge it on the English, because they too are White People? The only Crime of these poor Wretches seems to have been, that they had a reddish brown Skin, and black Hair; and some People of that Sort, it seems, had murdered some of our Relations.”19

For their part, the pro-Paxton pamphleteers—not all of whom were Scotch-Irish—derided what they perceived as the self-righteousness of the Quakers, their perceived “partiality”20 for the Indians, and their treatment of the “insignificant Scotch-Irish” as if they were “unworthy of protection.”21 They highlighted the savagery of the Indians, belittled the notion that there was a distinction between friendly and enemy Natives, and described the suffering of the frontier settlers in the most melodramatic terms. One pro-Paxton pamphleteer referred to the settlers as “ruined, despairing People,” “abused,” “unhappy,” “insulted,” “injured and oppressed,” “neglected,” “left naked and defenceless—abandon’d to Misery and Want—to beg their Bread from the cold Hand of Charity.”22

The massacres of the Conestogas didn’t quench the Paxton Boys’ thirst for blood. Furious that colonial officials were still protecting the Moravian Indians, in early February 1764 they gathered 250 men to march to Philadelphia, where they intended to kill the Native Americans, while thumbing their noses at authorities. Benjamin Franklin—along with a group of well-armed citizen volunteers and British troops—intercepted the Paxton Boys at Germantown, where Franklin convinced them to disband and put their grievances down on paper.

In the end, their primary complaints—the lack of frontier defenses, Quaker favoritism toward Indians, and their relative underrepresentation in in the colonial Assembly—continued to be ignored by the colony. But their insurrection of 1763–64, a mere twelve years before the Declaration of Independence, would nonetheless have far-reaching cultural and political ramifications. After the rebellion, Benjamin Franklin remarked that the “Spirit of killing all Indians, Friends and Foes” had spread throughout the colony.23 The victimized white people on the frontier had redefined the murder of Indians from being an offensive act to a defensive act. Regardless of what the law said, they had a new justification for killing Indians—and taking their land. It was neither criminal nor immoral, because it was revenge for what had been done to them.

***

After the Paxton rebellion, after which not one person was arrested, the Pennsylvania frontier became ungovernable. The colonial government had lost whatever control it had over Scotch-Irish settlers. In March 1765, a group that came to be known as the “Black Boys” because the members blackened their faces, attacked a wagon train carrying goods from Philadelphia to Fort Pitt at the confluence of the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers. The vigilantes targeted the shipment because it carried goods destined for trade with Ohio Indians. In June of that year, Thomas Gage, the commander of British forces in North America, described the residents of western Pennsylvania as being “in an actual State of Rebellion.”24

The following March, in a letter to the governor of colonial Pennsylvania, Gage wrote that he was “sorry to find that the lawless Banditti on your Frontiers continue giving you fresh troubles. The Robberies and disturban- ce they have been guilty of with Impunity, emboldens them to every Act of Violence, whilst they flatter themselves that they are secure from Punishment.”25

By 1768, the British were fully aware of the level of lawlessness on Pennsylvania’s western frontier. Because they could not control the settlers, the British had lost credibility with the Indian tribes with whom they negotiated trade and treaties. In January, two German settlers, John Stump and his servant John Ironcutter (Eisenhower), were selling rum to six Indians—four men and two women—in Stump’s house near Middleburg when the two murdered them because they said they had become unruly. The next day Stump and Ironcutter rode fourteen miles to an Indian camp, where they killed another woman, two young girls, and a child. Stump then scalped the victims, threw their bodies in a heap, and burned them.

Few could deny the heinousness of these unprovoked attacks. But when a British officer handed the two men over to the sheriff in Carlisle, the county seat of heavily Scotch-Irish Cumberland County, a mob of vigilantes sprung them free. According to historian Richard White, the group “feared the precedent of back country settlers being sent to Philadelphia for trial.”26

Meanwhile, during the following decade, tens of thousands of white settlers moved across the Proclamation Line with impunity and began grabbing land west of the Appalachians. Just as it’s impossible to understand the emergence of white people as a multiethnic community of interest without taking into account the shared hostility toward Native Americans, it’s impossible to understand that hostility without considering the fact that it was fundamentally born of competition over land.

Unlike the 1782 massacre at Gnadenhutten, there is no equivalent memorial to the Conestoga Indians who were murdered nearly twenty years prior. But if you’re willing to search, you can find a bronze roadside marker set on a large stone about twenty-five minutes by car west of Lancaster, not far from the Susquehanna River. The plaque marks the general location of Conestoga Manor, and only in what seems like an afterthought mentions that “the tribe was exterminated by the Paxton Boys in 1763” in the last sentence. In Lancaster proper, there is a small plaque mounted well above eye level on the back wall of the nineteenth-century Fulton Theatre. It reads simply “Site of Conestoga Massacre, December 27, 1763.” But while the atrocities in Lancaster County are not as memorialized as those in Gnadenhutten, most historians of colonial and revolutionary-era Pennsylvania and Ohio tie a direct line between the two events. If the Paxton Boys represented the violent early expression of a still-coalescing community of interest, then, in the words of historian Gregory T. Knouff, Gnadenhutten “marked the apotheosis of White racialist identity.”27 While in 1763, the acts of the Paxton Boys still inspired disgust among some European-origin colonists, by 1783, such atrocities were no longer so shocking.

***

In 1779, Benjamin Franklin, then the U.S. ambassador to France, met with the Marquis de Lafayette in Paris to be- gin planning a children’s book that they hoped would be used “to impress the minds of Children and Posterity with a deep sense of [Britain’s] bloody and insatiable Malice and Wickedness.”28 The Continental Congress had asked Franklin to put together a list of British atrocities that would become the basis of a primer for rebels/patriots.

One of the challenges of the Revolutionary War effort was how to engender a fury against Britain that would first instill in the colonial public a strong enough will to fight and then sustain a brand-new country’s identity in the wake of a Revolution. Leading Boston patriot Sam Adams was particularly concerned that the Revolution would fail if generations of Americans did not learn to despise the mother country.

The American Revolution was decidedly not the articulation of a clearly separate self-conscious colonial identity eager to distinguish itself from the empire. On the one hand, the British were convinced that intercolonial tensions—those between north and south, as well as east and west—would make political and military coordination impossible. On the other, even after the Declaration of Independence was signed, it was difficult to tell exactly who was fighting against whom.

What the Revolution needed was a way not only to clearly draw a line between colonial and imperial identities, but to unify a diverse and fractious colonial population. The answer would be found in a type of war propaganda that would destroy whatever affection the public had for Britain. To do this, the rebels had to demonstrate that the British—cultural cousins to so many colonists— were really dangerous foreigners. “To accomplish this vital, difficult task,” writes historian Robert G. Parkinson, “they embraced the most powerful weapons in the colonial cultural arsenal: stereotypes, prejudices, expectations, and fears about violent Indians and Africans.”29

The children’s book that Franklin and Lafayette were planning was never published. But the list of twenty-six proposed illustrations still survives. They could be broken down in roughly three topics, the British mistreatment of prisoners, the bombardment of colonial towns, and images of British-allied Native American and African slaves menacing European-origin colonists. Indeed, more than a quarter—seven of twenty-six—of the images were supposed to feature Indian and black British proxies—five of Native Americans and two of Africans wreaking havoc. Number fourteen was to be an illustration of a grateful King George III receiving a list from his secretary of war of colonists who had been scalped.

Tying the British to their Indian and black allies was so crucial to war propaganda that it was the reason for the twenty-seventh and final grievance against King George III in the Declaration of Independence: “He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.”30 Insurrections referred to the proclamation issued by Virginia’s colonial governor offering freedom to slaves who left their patriot owners and joined the British army. The hypocrisy of referencing slavery in an argument for liberty led the drafting committee to strike the word “slave” altogether. But the signers of the Declaration of Independence evidently had no problem calling all Native Americans savages, despite the fact that some tribes were fighting for the revolutionary cause. Rebels were consciously leveraging colonists’ fear of Native Americans to further their fight against the British. The Indian hating that began on the colonial frontier was now being spread via colonial printing presses to forge unity for the patriot cause.

***

The most extensive and successful rebel propaganda campaign was the story of the murder of Jane McCrea by British-allied Indians in Fort Edward, New York. It sought to point out that the British were not worthy of colonists’ loyalty because they had allied themselves with Native Americans. So many versions of the sad tale were printed so often that McCrea became, in the estimation of one cultural historian, “the new nation’s first folk heroine.”31 On orders from military and political leaders, rebel printers published McCrea’s tale in scores of publications throughout the colonies.

The essence of the story was that in late July of 1777, an orphaned daughter of a Presbyterian minister was captured and killed by Indians while she was on her way to meet her fiancé, a loyalist officer in the British Army.

The facts were to be debated for decades to come, but the emotional resonance of the basic story was enough for the rebels to seize on. “Seeing an enormous opportunity to denigrate their enemies and bolster American spirits at a critical moment in a critical campaign,” writes Parkinson, “patriot publicists moved quickly to broadcast the story as widely as possible.”32 A letter written on the day McCrae was killed was reprinted throughout the colonies. It stated that a group of Indians “took a young woman . . . out of a house at Fort Edward, carried her about half a mile into the bushes, and there killed and scalped her in cold blood.”33 Another account echoed the words in the Declaration of Independence. “The barbarous savages, having received full liberty from the more barbarous Britain, to murder and scalp all before them, without regard to age or sex.”34

American general Horatio Gates used McCrae’s story to drum up support for the coming battle with the British at Saratoga. When the Americans won, which became a turning point in the Revolution, McCrae became a martyr for the cause. While it’s unclear whether the story really mobilized citizen soldiers, what is clear is that the rebels thought it was a winning message. Long after the war had ended, McCrae’s story was immortalized in novels, histories, and paintings.

Indian captivity stories were wildly popular in America from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries, and women were often at the center of them. Historian June Namias has identified three female types in these stories: the survivor, the amazon, and the frail flower. McCrae clearly fits into the last category. In written form, according to Namias, frail flower narratives tended to include “brutality, sadomasochistic and titillating elements, strong racist language,” and “pleas for sympathy and commiseration.”35 All those apply to the most famous painting of McCrea, John Vanderlyn’s 1804 The Death of Jane McCrea, which still hangs in the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art in Hartford, Connecticut. According to historian Richard Drinnon, Vanderlyn’s painting “helped set the pattern for an endless series of pictorial indictments of Jefferson’s ‘merciless Indian Savages.’ Always the epic contrast was between the dusky evil and fair innocence, between maddened red cruelty and helpless white virtue.”36

But Vanderlyn’s painting, which would be included in children’s textbooks up until the early twentieth century, also carries with it another powerful cultural theme, that of justifiable revenge against Native Americans. Historians Jeremy Engels and Greg Goodale suggest that the image of a white man in the back of the painting was that of McCrea’s fiancé, David Jones, who arrived too late to save her life but would later seek to avenge her death. The power of the image, they argue, was its ability to capture “the helpless girl, with ripped red, white, and blue dress, [who] will soon be murdered and scalped by hypermasculine, monstrous Indians. Her breast is exposed, implying that she has been, or will soon be, raped—a common claim in the eighteenth century.”37 The hatred and demonization of Indians was no longer a fact of life among whites on the frontier. It was now also part of the ideology of a new nation looking to justify its expansion west.

***

In 1782–83, when negotiating the Treaty of Paris, lawyers and diplomats representing Great Britain ceded the territory between the Atlantic Ocean and the Mississippi River, south of the Great Lakes and north of Florida, to the United States. Their rationale was that Britain had won that land from the French in 1763 at the end of the French and Indian War and that now the Americans had won it from them. The treaty made no mention of the Native Americans who had fought or died on either side of the Revolution, nor those who inhabited so much of the territory the new country now believed it rightfully owned.

The idea that the United States would expand to fit its new borders was a foregone conclusion. Indeed, well before the Revolution was won, men dreamed of a nation that covered the entire continent. In his valedictory address to the graduating class at Yale on July 25, 1776, the college’s future president, Congregational minister Timothy Dwight, imagined “a vast continent, containing near three thousand millions of acres of valuable land” inhabited by a homogeneous people. He acknowledged that for this glorious “Empire of North-America” to be born, the inferior race of “vicious, luxurious, mean-spirited and contemptible a race of beings” in the south and western parts of the continent would have to “either be entirely exterminated, or revive to the native human dignity, by the generous and beneficent influence of just laws, and rational freedom.”38 In short, two weeks after the Declaration of Independence was signed, Dwight was already predicting the conquest of the Spanish Southwest.

The Treaty of Paris quickly brought normalcy to the coastal cities of the United States. But it didn’t change much in the backcountry, where Indians and American frontiersmen continued to settle an ever-growing list of scores. While the British had at least made efforts, however unsuccessful, to keep white settlers from heading over the Appalachians onto Indian land, under the new government, acquisition of those lands in the West was now a national goal. Land-hungry settlers streamed westward unimpeded. Between 1783 and 1790, the white population of Pennsylvania’s three western counties grew by almost 90 percent. By 1800, the population of western Pennsylvania grew from about 33,000 to 95,000 souls. And the new government back east was no more in the position to control these settlers as the British had been before them. By 1790, George Washington’s second year in office, the “independent-minded inhabitants” of the western frontier had, in the words of historian Gregory H. Nobles, “repeatedly shown themselves resistant to external direction, defiant of government authority, and susceptible to foreign intrigue.”39

While the Treaty of Paris presumed to grant the Trans-Appalachian West to the United States, the British refused to give up control of a number of forts around the Great Lakes from which they continued to covertly support Indian raids on American settlements. Meanwhile, Spain controlled the Mississippi River, which meant that poverty-stricken western farmers not only couldn’t get their goods over the Appalachians to the east, but also couldn’t get their goods to any markets downstream. In the early years of the republic, many Americans believed that a break between east and west was inevitable. Not only were their interests different, but so were the cultures of their inhabitants. In 1785, Timothy Pickering, who served as secretary of state under presidents Washington and Adams, wrote that the settlers on the frontier were “the least worthy subjects in the United States. They are little less savage than the Indians.”40

But for America to push westward, the government had to come to some sort of an agreement with these “savage” whites in the West, particularly those in anarchic western Pennsylvania. The longer seaboard politicians resisted frontier demands, the more they risked losing the settlers to possible reunion with Britain or joining Spain. More than anything, the settlers in western Pennsylvania wanted what they’d been demanding since 1755: governmental protection from Indians. Their sense of entitlement came from their image of themselves as martyrs. In 1786, an open letter to the state government from residents of a backcountry Pennsylvania county argued that in the “scenes of horror” during the Revolution, “we were your frontier. Our blood answered for yours. Our hazard and unparalleled distress purchased your safety.”41 In even more intimate language, they went on to insist that they “had stood between you and the tomahawk and scalping knife, and diverted the inhuman strokes from you.”42

With government protection would implicitly come an acceptance of western views of Native Americans. And those views justified the kind of violence that was committed at Gnadenhutten in 1782. The emerging understanding between east and west would entail an acceptance of racially motivated violence. As historian Patrick Griffin has written, racist violence would “provide the social template for the West, one that speculators, military commanders, and officials in the West would either come to accept or have to tolerate.”43 It was the price of keeping a young, fragile nation together.

The frontier settler experience became the basis for a new understanding of the meaning of the Revolution. This vision didn’t involve men in wigs as much as it did those who donned Indian garb. It emphasized, according to Griffin, “the role common people played in epic events while acknowledging the uncomfortable truth that vic- tim could be victimizer.”44 Before long, the people that coastal elites once referred to as savages would become symbols of true democracy and national expansion. They would push forward into Indian territory and expect the government to send the military to defend them. Just a few years after the massacre at Gnadenhutten, U.S. for- ces were sent to protect settlers from Indians, rather than the other way around.

***

Over the past few decades, commentators have been wringing their hands over the growing politics of victimhood in America. More often than not, they conclude that the civil rights movement is the primary culprit. And there’s little doubt that the movement developed and helped institutionalize new state-sponsored mechanisms and even incentives—financial and political—to identify oneself or one’s group as a victim. But the first group in America to wrap itself in victimhood was the people we now call whites. They leveraged their self-anointed victim status to get what they wanted from the new government—protection and land. Their reputations were wiped clean. Their victimhood became heroism. In return, the government used them as a vanguard to take over an entire continent.

As such, the emergence of contemporary white grie- vance politics shouldn’t be understood simply as a reaction to the civil rights movement or to changing demo- graphics. The phenomenon dates back to even before the birth of the nation.

All groups of people define themselves in contradistinction to other peoples. It was fear of victimization at the hands of Indians that kept the original thirteen colonies together during the Revolution. European Americans continually reinforced their white identity as they fought Native Americans at each successive stage in the expanding West. The definition of white—and who made up its constituent groups—evolved over time. While it would eventually be adopted by elites as well, a certain sector of society always maintained its more populist coonskin-cap connotations. Some whites were on the front lines, while others helped deliver government largesse and intellectual justification from the safer confines of eastern cities and their institutions. The two sides don’t always get along, but their alliance persists to this day, thanks to an understanding first forged on the Pennsylvania frontier around the politics of victimhood.

***

1. Shelby Steele, “I’m Black, You’re White, Who’s Innocent? Race and Power in an Era of Blame,” Harper’s Magazine, (June 1988): 45–53.

2. From George Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette, August 15, 1786, The Writings of George Washington; Being His Correspondence, Addresses, Messages, and Other Papers, Official and Private, ed. Jared Sparks, vol. 9 (Boston: Russell, Ordione, and Metcalf, 1835), 193.

3. From Benjamin Franklin to James Hutton, July 7, 1782, Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives. gov/documents/Franklin/01-37-02-0377.

4. James T. Lemon, The Best Poor Man’s Country: A Geogra- phical Study of Early Southeastern Pennsylvania (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1972), xiii.

5. Benjamin Franklin, “Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind, Peopling of Countries, Etc.,” Perspectives in Biology and Medicine 13, no. 4 (Summer 1970): 475.

6. Maldwyn A. Jones, “The Scotch-Irish in British America,” in Strangers Within the Realm: Cultural Margins of the First British Empire, ed. Bernard Bailyn and Philip D. Morgan (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991), 297.

7. Jane T. Merritt, At the Crossroads: Indians and Empires on a Mid-Atlantic Frontier, 1700–1763 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003), 39.

8. Peter Rhoads Silver, “Indian-Hating and the Rise of Whiteness in Provincial Pennsylvania” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2000), 293.

9. Ibid., 176.
10. Ibid., 180.
11. Kevin Kenny, Peaceable Kingdom Lost: The Paxton Boys and the Destruction of William Penn’s Holy Experiment (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 80.

12. Peter Silver, Our Savage Neighbors: How Indian War Trans- formed Early America (New York: W. W. Norton, 2008), 304.

13. John R. Dunbar, Introduction to The Paxton Papers, ed. John R. Dunbar (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1957), 10.

14. Michael N. McConnell, A Country Between: The Upper Ohio Valley and Its Peoples, 1724–1774 (Lincoln: University of Nebras- ka Press, 1992), 208.

15. Nancy Shoemaker, A Strange Likeness: Becoming Red and White in Eighteenth-Century North America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 125.

16. Jeremy Engels, “‘Equipped for Murder’: The Paxton Boys and ‘the Spirit of Killing All Indians’ in Pennsylvania, 1763–1764,” Rhetoric and Public Affairs 8, no. 3 (Fall 2005): 356.

17. Warren R. Hofstra, “Introduction: From the North of Ireland to North America: The Scots-Irish and the Migration Experience,” in Ulster to America: The Scots-Irish Migration Expe- rience, 1680–1830, ed. Warren R. Hofstra (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press), xiii.

18. Benjamin Franklin, “A Narrative of the Late Massacres, in Lancaster County, of a Number of Indians, Friends of this Province, by Persons Unknown. With Some Observations on the Same,” in The Paxton Papers, ed. John R. Dunbar (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1957), 72.

19. Ibid., 63.

20. Anonymous, “The Apology of the Paxton Volunteers Addressed to the Candid & Impartial World,” in ibid., 191.

21. Thomas Barton, “The Conduct of the Paxton-Men, Impartially Represented: With Some Remarks on the Narrative,” in ibid., 272.

22. Ibid., 272, 274, 280, 281, 293–94.
23. Jeremy Engels, “‘Equipped for Murder,’”: 357.
24. Kenny, Peaceable Kingdom Lost, 207.
25. Alden T. Vaughan, “Frontier Banditti and the Indians: The Paxton Boys’ Legacy, 1763–1775,” Pennsylvania History: A Jour- nal of Mid-Atlantic Studies 51, no. 1 (January 1984): 6-7.

26. Richard White, The Middle Ground: Indians, Empires, and Republics in the Great Lakes Region, 1650–1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 350.

27. Gregory T. Knouff, “Whiteness and Warfare on a Revolutionary Frontier,” in Friends and Enemies in Penn’s Woods: Indians, Colonists, and the Racial Construction of Pennsylvania, ed. William A. Pencak and Daniel K. Richter (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2004), 252.

28. Robert G. Parkinson, The Common Cause: Creating Race and Nation in the American Revolution (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2016), 400–401.

29. Ibid., 21.

30. Jack N. Rakove, The Annotated U.S. Constitution and Declaration of Independence (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), 95.

31. Jay Fliegelman, Prodigals and Pilgrims: The American Revolution Against Patriarchal Authority, 1750–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 137.

32. Parkinson, Common Cause, 340.
33. Ibid., 341.
34. Ibid.
35. June Namias, White Captives: Gender and Ethnicity on the American Frontier (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1993), 37.

36. Richard Drinnon, Facing West: The Metaphysics of Indian-Hating and Empire-Building (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1997), 101.

37. Jeremy Engels and Greg Goodale, “‘Our Battle Cry Will Be: Remember Jenny McCrea!’: A Précis on the Rhetoric of Revenge,” American Quarterly 61, no. 1 (March 2009): 102.

38. Timothy Dwight, “A Valedictory Address to the Young Gentlemen, Who Commenced Bachelors of Arts, at Yale College, July 25th, 1776” (New Haven, CT: Thomas and Samuel Green, 1776), 1-22, Early American Imprints, Series 1, no. 14747 (filmed).

39. Gregory H. Nobles, American Frontiers: Cultural Encounters and Continental Conquest (New York: Hill & Wang, 1997), 131.

40. Thomas P. Slaughter, The Whiskey Rebellion: Frontier Epilogue to the American Revolution (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 30.

41. Patrick Griffin, American Leviathan: Empire, Nation, and Revolutionary Frontier (New York: Hill & Wang, 2007), 222.

42. Ibid.
43. Ibid., 154. 44. Ibid., 14.

Spring Has Sprung

April has been a busy month. I finished an 8,500-word essay I started researching way back in September, 2020.  I took detours up to Paris and Frankfurt.  Most importantly, I’ve been enjoying the beginnings of spring here in the Spanish capital.  Sunday was a spectacularly beautiful day.  The whole city seemed to be out and about. I felt like that was the first time I was able to exhale all month.

I’m particularly pleased that I’ve already begun to order books for my next essay.  The optimistic part of me thinks I can write this in a year, but, heck, what’s the rush?  That said, I’m finding that some of my most productive times intellectually are the lulls between my focused reading, those weeks and months that I’m able to veer off a particular project and just read whatever strikes my interest.  My reading over the last six months has been particularly rich and varied.  I started the year reading Malcolm Gaskill’s fascinating study of a 17th-century witch hunt in Springfield, Massachusetts, called The Ruin of All Witches: Life and Death in the New World.  Before that, I absolutely loved Zena Hitz’s wonderful Lost in Thought: The Hidden Pleasures of an Intellectual Life.  I’ve found a new hero in the late political theorist Judith Shklar. I particularly enjoyed her essays in Ordinary Vices and Redeeming American Political Thought.  I very much look forwarding to tackling all her work in the next few years.  Other favorites include Forrest McDonald’s Novus Ordo Seclorum: The Intellectual Origins of the Constitution, Robin Corey’s The Enigma of Clarence Thomas, Jamal Greene’s How Rights Went Wrong, and Timur Kuran’s Private Truths, Public Lies: The Social Consequences of Preference Falsification. I also read two popular books on the history and legacy of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Todd Purdum’s An Idea Whose Time Has Come and Christopher Caldwell’s The Age of Entitlement: America Since the Sixties.   

I will publish the new essay after it’s edited and I process feedback from some folks who are giving it a pre-read. Meantime, blue skies are luring me out into the streets and it’s about time to find a café table where I can watch the rest of the afternoon go by.

That One Night in Dagestan

Like a lot of us, I’ve been reading a fair amount about Ukraine and especially Russia these days. It fascinates me how quickly American news items on Russian military and diplomatic machinations turn into psychoanalysis–the Russians miss the glory days of the Tsar or the imperial Soviet Union.  I wish the American media would turn the same psychoanalytic lens on domestic news instead of their usual freshman year sociology.   Americans murder each other at such high rates because they are suffering from ennui and purposelessness.

The more I read about Russia, the more ignorant I feel. This summer, my wife and I are scheduled to visit the largest of the 22 republics in the Russian Federation. I’ll bet you anything you can’t name it. In any case, we’re really looking forward to seeing Ufa, its capital city.  It’s where Rudolf Nureyev grew up.  I told you you’ve never heard of it.

This morning, after listening to a podcast with Robert D. Kaplan–whose book “Balkan Ghosts” inspired me to spend a month traveling around Romania in the late 1990s–I turned on Tchaikovsky’s wonderfully lyrical violin concerto. I got to thinking about the psychic scars Soviet domination left on Eastern Europe. Of course, some of it was the absurd cruelty of communism. But not all of it. There’s also the burden of being controlled by the interests of a larger country.  A decade or so ago, I spent a week in Baku and was struck by the combination of reverence and resentment Azeris had for the Russians.  On the one hand, attending a Russian university could gain one high status.  On the other hand, their country’s sovereignty was limited given the size and might of its enormous neighbor.  There was simply nothing they could do to push the bear back.  It reminded me of Porfirio Díaz’s famous quote, “Poor Mexico, so far from God and so close to the United States.” But in a short time, I got the sense that the small states surrounding Russia had it much worse.

All this got me thinking about the one blurry night I spent in the Republic of Dagestan on the Caspian Sea.  When I arrived in Baku, I left a letter for a high-ranking Dagestani diplomat with the front desk at my hotel.  They said they’d have it delivered.

You see, the brother of my uncle by marriage lost a lot of money in the 1990s in oil investments in Dagestan.  But apparently, he had some old contacts he wanted to share with me. (The brother also happened to own the Chateau Marmont in its glory days.)  In any case, when he heard I was going to Azerbaijan, he told me I had to visit Dagestan. He wrote a note in a sealed envelope addressed to the plenipotentiary of this or that. That’s what I left at my hotel’s front desk assuming nothing would come of it.

A day or so later, I got a call in my hotel room from a man who clearly spoke very little English. He told me–in one way or another–that a car would come that day at 7pm to pick me up. I had no idea who was picking me up or where I was going.  But sure enough that night I was picked up and whisked away in what I later guessed was a $200,000 Mercedes. The passenger chair moved to accommodate the turns in the road. The driver, probably the guy who called me, had already used all his English on me. So we sat mostly in silence as he drove up the coast to Dagestan.

When we finally got out of the car, I found myself at what I think was a dimly lit disco in a water park.  The people were frighteningly good looking. I was handed vodka shots, and told through a combination of laughter and pantomime, that it was not acceptable to sip the vodka.  I may or may not have talked to a few people. I may or may not have danced that night.  At five am the next morning, I was dropped off at my hotel in Baku. I still have no idea where I had been or who I was with.  But I’ll never forget my one night in the Republic of Dagestan.

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