Roundup: Talking About History

This is where we excerpt articles about history that appear in the media. Among the subjects included on this page are: anniversaries of historical events, legacies of presidents, cutting-edge research, and historical disputes.


Why We Argue So Much About War Memorials

Philip Kennicott, in the Wash Post (May 30, 2004):

Americans find the making of large national monuments so contentious and painful that it's surprising we build any at all. From 1987, when the idea was proposed in Congress, through this weekend's opening festivities, the National World War II Memorial has provoked so much controversy that it would be tempting to dismiss it all as just so much white noise from the black art of cultural criticism. But that would dismiss more than just an array of aesthetic and land use issues; it would dismiss a basic, contrarian stirring in the nation's psyche, a stirring as essential to the American democratic spirit as leavening to bread. Some cantankerous part of us does not like monuments at all. That is a good and important prompting, and something, if it weren't so paradoxical, that we should probably build a monument to honor.

What causes this unease? Consider stone. Stone is our central metaphor for things that are final, unassailable and commanding. Stonewall Jackson was unmovable; to stonewall is to be unyielding; a stony face refuses expression. And "set in stone" suggests that an idea, or a fact, has been placed in its ultimate form, beyond emendation and, often, beyond debate or contradiction.

Monuments are ideas set in stone, which is why they torment us. They are an attempt to place some fact, or some understanding of history, beyond dispute: This man was heroic; this war was good; these people should be remembered. They demand our assent to some basic proposition, which we can give or we can withhold. Successful monuments make clear statements, and earn (though not always at first) wide agreement; bad ones demand more than we can give, or lack clarity, and ultimately inspire resistance, indifference or division.

In a democratic society, there is a natural, healthy resistance to any kind of compliance with a final understanding of history. Historical understandings change. Good wars and good men don't necessarily seem so to later generations. And nothing, even a just war or a great man, is entirely good. The most basic message of any monument -- this war was good, or at least just -- brings with it other ideas, corollaries, embedded meanings that we are not so willing to agree with. And some essential part of American society -- call them critics -- refuses the finality of monuments with a reflexive unwillingness to cede any understanding to other people. At least not with the finality of stone.

Even as veterans, descendants, politicians and other celebrants gathered to participate in the opening of the World War II Memorial this weekend, debate about its merits continued, though you could hear a note of caution in the tone. It is taken for granted that the veterans of World War II deserve a memorial of some sort. And though that war has sparked controversy over Japanese American internment camps, the use of the atomic bomb, the firebombing of Dresden, none of this is on the table right now. The memorial simply assumes, and embodies, the language (and often the clichés) that have grown up around "the greatest generation," heroes all, who fought the "last great war."...

Posted on Monday, May 31, 2004 at 1:25 AM | Comments (0) | Top

In Memory of the First Black Columnist at the Chicago Tribune

Les Payne, in memory of Vernon Jarrett, the first black columnist at the Chicago Tribune; in Newsday (May 30, 2004):

Two hours away from my lecture at Stillman College, I needed a grenade. Speakers should always arm themselves with this percussion device when steadying the wandering minds of students at college, even a Presbyterian one like Stillman.

I phoned Vernon Jarrett in Chicago for the exact language of the Alabama slave law that forbade the teaching of blacks to read. He quickly coughed up the 1848 law carrying a penalty of a $200 fine, imprisonment and public lashing. I hit the podium that Sunday with a scholarly sheen that Vernon had been polishing since I met the Chicago columnist in 1975. Google might issue up the slave act nowadays with the right words, but in a Tuscaloosa hotel room without a laptop, Vernon was the surest resort.

Besides, it had been Vernon who first disclosed the existence of the slave act to me at an earlier meeting of columnists. As the great-grandson of Alabama slaves, I knew vaguely of such laws. But hearing the chilling language rolling off Vernon's tongue hit me like a percussion bomb. That same effect was achieved among students attending historically black Stillman College, which was established in 1876 - a few years after the act was technically overruled by the 13th and 14th Amendments to the Constitution.

The first time I met Vernon he spoke for 2-1/2 spellbinding hours at Morgan State University. On the second occasion, he again spoke for 2-1/2 hours, somewhat less spellbinding because of their familiarity. The third time went pretty much the same. The black history names were familiar - Frederick Douglass, James Weldon Johnson, Walter White, Sojourner Truth, W.E.B. DuBois - but Vernon imbued them with a sense of daring. He made them curtsy and dance, flutter and wow. William Monroe Trotter was so engagingly reckless that I went on a dead run for his biography. This campaigning, turn-of-the-century Boston journalist, the first black Phi Beta Kappa Harvard graduate, ran the much-feared Guardian as a newspaper slashing to the bone of the powerful, both black and white.

Booker T. Washington, the most celebrated Negro of his era, was reduced in the Guardian to a token who owed his existence to white backers - which made him not very much of a black leader at all.

In a famous White House confrontation, Trotter took a delegation of black supporters in to see President Woodrow Wilson and discuss his joyful embrace and enforcement of the 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson decision. Legalized segregation had stimulated lynching in the South, rioting in the North and black oppression everywhere. "Segregation is not humiliating but a benefit," Wilson told Trotter and his group. Not one to kowtow, even in the White House, Trotter lit into so spirited an argument with the racist president that he had to be escorted out onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Front-page stories the next day reported that Wilson dismissed Trotter with, "Your manner offends me."

Rudeness in the defense of black human rights Trotter considered a virtue. Compromise, on the other hand, no matter how slight, Trotter considered a character defect. in any would-be Negro leader such as Washington. DuBois admired this in Trotter.

Vernon Jarrett admired it in both men, and he embodied these same traits as a journalist crusading for the rights of African-Americans. He blasted Bill Clinton as a sly slacker on race matters - and he was as tough as any critic on Jesse Jackson, relenting somewhat after he made his second presidential run in the 1988 Democratic campaign....

Posted on Sunday, May 30, 2004 at 11:30 AM | Comments (0) | Top

Anniversary of the Single Most Consequential Law in American History

From the Associated Press (May 29, 2004):

Take out your pencils and a clean sheet of notebook paper.

Sunday being the 150th anniversary of the Kansas-Nebraska Act, here's a pop history quiz.

Pretend the act died in Congress instead of being signed by President Franklin Pierce on May 30, 1854. With that in mind, answer these three questions:

When was slavery abolished in the United States?

What party has won six of the last nine presidential elections?

Whose picture is on the $5 bill?

The answer to all three questions: Who knows?

The law got Abraham Lincoln back into politics, led to the formation of the Republican Party and sparked what some historians consider the real first battles of the Civil War.

"It would be hard to find another single piece of legislation in all of American history that had greater consequences for the country - both good and bad - than the Kansas-Nebraska Act," said historian James McPherson of Princeton University.

To a 21st-century reader, the act appears fairly innocuous. It created the two territories out of land acquired through the Louisiana Purchase, and provided that residents of each would decide whether slavery would be allowed there.

But it had the effect of repealing the Missouri Compromise of 1820, which prohibited slavery in new territories - creating worries that the southern "Slave Power" wanted to expand slavery nationwide.

A coalition of anti-slavery Democrats, breakaway Whigs and Free Soil Party members responded by forming the Republican Party. In 1860, the fledgling Republicans gained the White House.

In Illinois, the act's passage fell "like a thunderclap" on Lincoln, a former Whig congressman who had taken himself out of politics five years earlier.

"He was so outraged by the act that he got back in," McPherson said.

On Oct. 16, 1854, Lincoln vented that outrage in a speech at Peoria, Ill. He argued that Congress, not a popular vote in the territories, should determine the slavery issue in Kansas and Nebraska.

"If there is any thing which it is the duty of the whole people to never entrust to any hands but their own, that thing is the preservation and perpetuity of their own liberties and institutions," he said.

The speech revitalized Lincoln politically. Six years later, with the Democratic Party split along sectional lines over slavery, Lincoln was elected in a three-way race....

Posted on Saturday, May 29, 2004 at 6:44 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Are History Teachers Up to the Task of Educating Students About War?

Marissa Nelson, in Canada's London Free Press News (May 29, 2004):

Teachers are the key to keeping our country's history alive, but at least one noted historian questions their ability to handle the responsibility. "It's a bleak picture . . . I wish they were up for the job," says Jack Granatstein, chairperson of the Council for Canadian Security in the 21st Century. "Many teachers think war is something that should be taught as a bad thing, which neglects the heroism."

Schools teach children their rights in Canada, but not the responsibilities that come with citizenship, he says. We don't even know what opinions teachers are giving children, he adds, and whether they're sound.

"History is very important in a country that is as multi-cultural as we are. It's very important to understand the price we pay for that. "We teach a kind of human security, peacekeeping history, which strikes me as nuts, given all the violence. You need soldiers who can fight a war when you need to."

But Jonathan Vance, associate professor of history at the University of Western Ontario, is more optimistic because of the increased attention paid to history on television and in movies.

"They're tuning in more than we might imagine. I'm pretty optimistic about memory continuing," he says. "It's easy to make it boring but just as easy to make it interesting."

He says the key is making history relevant. He once grabbed a school's honour roll from the front foyer on his way into a Remembrance Day presentation and pointed out to the children that the men on the plaque sat in the same seats as them, 60 years ago.

"Suddenly they drew the connection with the past that seems so distant and the present they're living," he says.

...

Posted on Saturday, May 29, 2004 at 6:18 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Thomas Fleming: The Real Story Behind Napoleon's Sale of Louisiana

From the American Revolution Roundtable (June 2004):

On Tuesday, March 30, Tom Fleming treated Round Tablers to a highly unorthodox version of how the United States persuaded Napoleon Bonaparte to sell the United States the vast territory of Louisiana. He began with President Thomas Jefferson's startling 1801 offer to the French government to help it regain the island of Santo Domingo, and incidentally eliminate its black revolutionary ruler, Toussaint L'Ouverture. From there we roller- coastered with Tom as Jefferson discovered that Napoleon had secretly pressured Spain into retroceding Louisiana to France and the even more dismaying discovery that the "Man of Destiny" was shipping 15,000 troops to dispose of Toussaint and his "gilded Africans" (Napoleon's phrase) with orders to then head for New Orleans and begin setting up a French satellite state in the Mississippi Valley. Secretary of State James Madison took charge of foreign policy and decreed that the United States would NOT help the French army in Santo Domingo no matter what his friend Jefferson had said. When Toussaint and his black legions chose war rather than surrender, another player entered the drama, aedes egypti, the female mosquito that carried the yellow fever virus. Soon whole French regiments melted away and the combination of aedes plus Madison's intransigent hostility soon had Napoleon's dream of a revived North American empire in history's dustbin. Only then did the Man of Destiny decide to sell Louisiana to the startled Jefferson. Tom closed by urging Round Tablers to drink a Fourth of July toast to that unrecognized heroine of the republic, aedes egypti.

Posted on Friday, May 28, 2004 at 7:01 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Students Don't Know Much About WW II Except the Internment Camps

Jay Matthews, in the Wash Post (May 28, 2004):

Tiffany Charles got a B in history last year at her Montgomery County high school, but she is not sure what year World War II ended. She cannot name a single general or battle, or the man who was president during the most dramatic hours of the 20th century.

Yet the 16-year-old does remember in some detail that many Japanese American families on the West Coast were sent to internment camps. "We talked a lot about those concentration camps," she said.

As Washington begins a massive Memorial Day weekend celebration of the new National World War II Memorial on the Mall, interviews with national education experts, teachers and more than 100 public school students suggest that Charles' limited knowledge of that momentous conflict is typical of today's youths.

Among 76 teenagers interviewed near their high schools this week in Maryland, Virginia and the District, recognition of the internment camps, a standard part of every area history curriculum, was high -- two-thirds gave the right answer when asked what happened to Japanese Americans during the war. But only one-third could name even one World War II general, and about half could name a World War II battle.

Diane Ravitch, an educational historian at New York University, said the big emphasis in high schools today is on the internment camps, as well as women in the workforce on the home front and discrimination against African Americans at home and in the armed services.

"Then, too, there was a war in the Atlantic and Pacific," she said.

Teachers and historians have been arguing for decades about how to teach World War II and other parts of American history. Many surveys, and interviews with students and teachers, indicate that there is less emphasis now on battles and victories, sparked in part by American failure in the Vietnam War, which had a significant impact on this generation of scholars and teachers.

At George Washington Middle School in Alexandria yesterday, seventh-grade history teacher Eric Bartels led his students through a spirited discussion of World War II that included mentions of Pearl Harbor, D-Day and other battles. But much of the emphasis was on the class's earlier visit to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, a visit to the school by African American World War II pilots and the causes of several of the war's major events.

Instead of seeking the details of the Japanese assault on Hawaiian-based forces on Dec. 7, 1941, Bartels asked: "Why did Japan attack Pearl Harbor?"

He got a big response when he asked about American women entering the workforce: "Rosie the Riveter!" several students said.

Posted on Friday, May 28, 2004 at 6:15 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Charles Krauthammer: The WW II Memorial Is a Failure

Charles Krauthammer, in the Wash Post (May 28, 2004):

Those of us who publicly opposed placing the National World War II Memorial on the Mall in Washington argued that doing so was a prescription for failure. If the memorial were to respect the sight lines, symmetries and elegance of the Mall, it would be too small to do justice to the grandeur of the Second World War. And if the memorial were large enough to reflect the majesty of its subject, it would overpower and ruin the delicate harmonies of the Mall.

The World War II memorial has just opened, and it is indeed a failure. The good news is that the Mall survives. The bad news is that for all its attempted monumentality, the memorial is deeply inadequate -- a busy vacuity, hollow to the core.

The memorial is a parenthesis, quite literally so -- two semicircular assemblies of pillars cupping the Rainbow Pool on the invisible axis that connects the Lincoln Memorial to the Washington Monument.

The pool, with its fountains, makes a nice space for tourists and toddlers to dip their feet on a hot summer's day. But as a remembrance of the most momentous event of the 20th century, it is a disaster.

Where does one start? The memorial's major feature -- 56 granite pillars 17 feet high, adorned with wreaths and marked with the names of the states and U.S. territories -- is a conception of staggering banality. One descends the main entry to the monument and the pillar to the left is marked American Samoa; on the right, the Virgin Islands.

What do the states have to do with World War II? What great chapter of that struggle was written by the Virgin Islands (or Kentucky, for that matter)?...

Posted on Friday, May 28, 2004 at 6:10 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Fact & Fiction in the Movie Troy

Rachel Browne, in the Australian Sun Herald (May 23, 2004):

DR Blanche Menadier is an honorary research associate at Macquarie University who has excavated at Troy nine times. She gives her verdict on how the film Troy compares with The Iliad.

* Fact: The area believed to be Troy is situated near two rivers, overlooking a fertile plain.

* Fiction: The film Troy was shot in a sandy, barren area of Malta which looks nothing like Turkey's Aegean coast.

* Fact: In Homer's Iliad, the Trojan War takes place over 10 years.

* Fiction: No one ages in the film, and the war seems to wrap up in about three weeks.

* Fact: There is no development of Achilles as a romantic figure in The Iliad. In fact, historians widely agree he had a homosexual relationship with his friend Patroclus.

* Fiction: Brad Pitt's Achilles is depicted as a ladies' man, with a prominent love scene with Rose Byrne's character Briseis. There is no suggestion of a homosexual relationship.

* Fact: While Homer's Iliad does mention the existence of the Trojan horse, it is regarded as a literary device. There is no archaeological evidence to support the existence of a horse.

" Fiction: In the film, the horse plays such a starring role it almost deserves its own credit.

Posted on Wednesday, May 26, 2004 at 8:17 PM | Comments (0) | Top

The Battle that Made Great Britain Great ... The Battle of the Plains of Abraham?

Randy Boswell, in the Gazette (Montreal) (May 22, 2004):

Canada was the Ground Zero of modern history, says a controversial new book by a bestselling British author.

Historian Frank McLynn says the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, long understood by Canadians to be the pivotal event in this country's past, should really be seen as the turning point in the entire history of the modern world.

The victory over the French not only marked the birth of the British Empire and ensured the global dominance of the English language but also made possible the existence of the United States, he claims.

In 1759: The Year Britain Became Master of the World, McLynn urges scholars to reconsider the collective significance of a series of resounding British victories over France in Europe, India, the West Indies and North America.

He places General James Wolfe's Sept. 13, 1759 triumph at Quebec City over the Marquis de Montcalm at the centre of his narrative.

The victory helped eliminate future military threats from the French in North America and finally allowed Britain's restless Thirteen Colonies to begin imagining and plotting their independence.

"The taking of Quebec was probably the most spectacular success in the year of victories and certainly had the most momentous consequences," writes McLynn, whose other works have included epic treatments of Napoleon and the British exploration of Africa.

"The summing up is simple; no 1759, no victory in the Seven Years War, no victory in North America, no expansionist British Empire, no break-away colonies and therefore, conceivably, no United States of America."

Posted on Wednesday, May 26, 2004 at 7:58 PM | Comments (0) | Top

How Other Memorials Have Been Greeted

Maria Puente, in USA Today, puttng into perspective the many criticisms of the new WW II memorial on the Mall (May 20, 2004):

Memorial building in America is a tendentious business. "Never was a memorial yet erected that was not subject to criticism," said Rep. John Boylan, D-N.Y. And that was in 1937. Here's what happened when some of America's most important memorials were proposed:

Washington Monument (1884) Architect Robert Mills

Construction began in 1848 but stopped for 20 years when funding ran out and the Civil War began. Also, a brouhaha erupted when a stone donated by Pope Pius IX was stolen by members of an anti-Catholic political party. The monument was finally completed almost 30 years after the architect's death.

540,000 visitors a year

Lincoln Memorial (1922) Architect Henry Bacon

Southern opponents of Lincoln didn't want it built at all. Lincoln supporters called the architecture "pompous" and disparaged the site on the Mall, at the time a swamp, as "unworthy" of the savior of the Union.

3.2 million visitors a year

Jefferson Memorial (1943) Architect John Russell Pope

It incited the angriest debate to that point in American architecture between historicists and modernists, who believed historical design lacked relevance. Some critics feared the design based on the Roman Pantheon would compete with the Lincoln Memorial. President Roosevelt had to intervene to get it built.

300,000 visitors a year

Vietnam Veterans Memorial (1981) Architect Maya Lin

Building the wall was almost as divisive as the war, both because of the times and the abstract V-shaped design; even the architect's Chinese-American heritage was attacked. Tom Carhart, a former Army platoon leader, called it a "degrading ditch." "Orwellian glop" wrote National Review magazine.

2.8 million visitors a year

Korean War Veterans Memorial (1995) Cooper-Lecky Architects of Washington

The criticism focused on a black granite wall etched with soldiers' faces. "The wall tugs the heartstrings, for sure, but it's also a bit obvious, a bit much," wrote Benjamin Forgey in The Washington Post. "It's a design disaster," said Carole Blair, professor at University of California-Davis.

2.4 million visitors a year

Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial (1997) Architect Lawrence Halprin

A 1960 proposal featuring granite slabs standing on edge was dubbed "instant Stonehenge." The finished monument was denounced by the disabled because a statue didn't show enough of FDR's wheelchair.

2 million visitors a year

Posted on Wednesday, May 26, 2004 at 7:19 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Slate's Timothy Noah: Why I Like the New WW II Memorial

Timothy Noah, in Slate (May 24, 2004):

What is so godawful about Washington's new World War II Memorial? Not even Pappy Chatterbox, a card-carrying member of the Greatest Generation (he had a desk job in Florida, but still can't bring himself to laugh at Mel Brooks' "Springtime for Hitler") could muster any interest in seeing it during a recent visit. Like every other college graduate in America, he'd read all about what an eyesore it was. He figured it wasn't worth seeing. So did I, until I happened to drive past it and decided to take a closer look.

The memorial, set to be dedicated on May 29, has received a near-unanimous Bronx cheer from the critics. "This is all stock celebration," complained Blake Gopnik of the Washington Post, "not true commemoration … [O]ur soldiers' worst enemies would have felt equally comfortable with its design." In The New Yorker, Paul Goldberger similarly pronounced the new monument "banal and timid, overly concerned with being well mannered." Even the Post's architecture critic, Benjamin Forgey, who rather liked the memorial after it was scaled down from an earlier, more bombastic plan, found "something a bit stiff about the memorial's classically inspired design." Just about everybody agrees with the National Coalition To Save Our Mall that the memorial "drives a wedge between the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial," which previously were separated only by park land and the Reflecting Pool, and that this is a bad thing.

The famous vista of the Mall from the top of the Lincoln Memorial—the site where Martin Luther King Jr. gave his "I Have a Dream" speech—is indeed altered, slightly. The distant Washington Monument now appears, at its base, to be encircled by two white bands—the oval marble walkways surrounding the Rainbow Pool, a fountain around which the World War II Memorial was built—and, at the bands' far ends, a few vertical rectangles—the pillars that commemorate the participation in World War II of each state. It looks like a vaguely exotic necklace. Someone is bound to observe sooner or later that the most famously phallic building in our nation's capital has finally gotten laid. In any event, the feminizing effect is fairly subtle and not at all unpleasant.

As for the neoclassicism, well, what's the matter with it? Pierre L'Enfant's Mall and its environs are studded, for better or worse, with neoclassical buildings, and the World War II Memorial (unlike a disastrous but widely praised planned addition by Frank Gehry to the Corcoran Museum) harmonizes with that environment. In particular, the memorial relates nicely to a nearby monument to Washington, D.C.'s World War I dead, a handsome (if unassuming) Greek temple erected in the early 1930s....

Posted on Wednesday, May 26, 2004 at 4:45 PM | Comments (0) | Top

How Your Generation Affects How You Think About Events

Liz Taylor, in the Seattle Times (May 24, 2004):

Over a decade ago, William Strauss and Neil Howe wrote a timeless book, "Generations," (Perennial, $16.95) in which they discussed the intriguing phenomenon they call the "peer personality" of the generations. That is, every birth group has a personality, shaped by events that happened to its members when they were young. No matter how different we are from each other, we tend to think and react similarly to people our own age.

"You and your peers share the same 'age location' in history," write Strauss and Howe, "and your generation's collective mind-set cannot help but influence you — whether you agree with it or spend a lifetime battling against it."

Why is this important?

Because where we're born in history has a huge impact on how we age, which in turn has a huge impact on what will happen to us — and society. Let's see what this means.

• The World War II generation — around 35 million people, now in their 80s and 90s — are known as America's "rational problem-solvers." They were victorious soldiers and Rosie the Riveters, "men's men" who knew how to get things done. Surviving the Depression, they experienced upward mobility and rising homeownership more than any other generation this century, say Strauss and Howe, becoming the most affluent elders of the 20th century. The entire modern growth in government spending coincided with their adult life-cycle. Valuing outer life over inner, they were stubborn, tight-fisted and lived by highly defined sex-roles in which men dominated.

• Next in line is the "Silent Generation." Born during the Depression in a birth "trough" (when many people couldn't afford to marry or have children), this relatively small group is now in their 60s and 70s, numbering around 30 million people. These are the "adapters," say Strauss and Howe, known for their gray-flannel suits and secure corporate careers (only 2 percent opted to be entrepreneurs). They were the earliest-marrying and earliest-babying generation in American history. Enjoying a lifetime of steadily rising affluence, they suffered relatively few war casualties (Korea) and held the 20th century's lowest rates for almost every social pathology of youth, such as crime, suicide, illegitimate births and teen unemployment. Squeezed like the "stuffing in a sandwich between the get-it-done WWII generation and the self-absorbed Boomers," the book says, they didn't make waves but spent their lives refining and humanizing the world.

• Then come the Boomers — 76 million people born between 1946 and 1964, accounting for fully one-third of the American population. A vast and varied group, they are the "idealists," say Strauss and Howe, pulling the rug out from under the nation on all sorts of issues that their WWII parents thought were set in concrete — war (Vietnam), work, sex roles, sexual behavior, music, drugs, race. From Hippie to bran-eater to Yuppie to Yoga Queen, the Boomers are — if nothing else — supremely self-confident, sassy and in-your-face. Plus, they aren't savers....

Posted on Monday, May 24, 2004 at 6:58 PM | Comments (0) | Top

The Supreme Court Case that Got Right What Brown Got Wrong

Ian Haney Lopez, a law professor at the University of California at Berkeley, in the NYT (May 22, 2004):

With commemorations from coast to coast to remind them, most Americans already know that this week was the 50th anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. Unfortunately, what they don't realize is that the country missed an equally important anniversary two weeks ago, that of Hernandez v. Texas — the perennially overshadowed antecedent to Brown that was decided on May 3, 1954.

That case merits commemoration not just because the Supreme Court used it to finally extend constitutional protection to Mexican-Americans, important though that is, especially now that Latinos are the largest minority group. It's worth celebrating because Hernandez got right something that Brown did not: the standard for when the Constitution should bar group-based discrimination....

Because both sides insisted that Mexican-Americans were white, Hernandez v. Texas forced the court to confront directly a question it would sidestep in Brown: under precisely what circumstances did some groups deserve constitutional protection? Hernandez offered a concise answer: when groups suffer subordination.

"Differences in race and color have defined easily identifiable groups which have at times required the aid of the courts in securing equal treatment under the laws," the court wrote. But, it said, "other differences from the community norm may define other groups which need the same protection." Succor from state discrimination, the court reasoned, should apply to every group socially defined as different and, implicitly, as inferior. "Whether such a group exists within a community is a question of fact," the court said, one that may be demonstrated "by showing the attitude of the community."

How, then, did the Texas community where Hernandez arose regard Mexican-Americans? Here the court catalogued Jim Crow practices: business and community groups largely excluded Mexican-Americans; a local restaurant displayed a sign announcing "No Mexicans Served"; children of Mexican descent were shunted into a segregated school and then forced out altogether after the fourth grade; on the county courthouse grounds there were two men's toilets, one unmarked and the other marked "Colored Men" and "Hombres Aquí" ("Men Here").

The same sort of caste system that oppressed blacks in Texas also harmed Mexican-Americans. But it was Jim Crow as group subordination, rather than as a set of "racial" distinctions, that called forth the Constitution's concern in Hernandez v. Texas.

Posted on Saturday, May 22, 2004 at 4:43 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Joel Beinin: The Golden Age of the Israeli Military

Joel Beinin, in the Nation (May 13, 2004):

For the last three and a half years the Israeli army has deployed American-supplied F-16 fighter jets, Apache helicopters, armored Caterpillar bulldozers and Merkava tanks powered by engines made in the USA in an unsuccessful effort to suppress the second Palestinian uprising. According to both Ehud Barak and Ariel Sharon, Israel is engaged in a war despite the spectacularly unequal military balance in the conflict. Moreover, Palestinian civilians and the infrastructure of Palestinian society have been its principal victims. Almost all of the 2,886 Palestinian fatalities since September 2000 have been civilians, about eighty of them "collateral damage" to 230 extrajudicial assassinations, which are themselves violations of the Fourth Geneva Convention. In the same period there have been 950 Israeli fatalities, 672 of them civilians.

The typical pattern for the first several weeks of the intifada was that Palestinian civilians engaged in peaceful protest marches. Toward the end of the protests, youths taunted and threw stones at Israeli troops. The soldiers fired on stone-throwers and non-stone-throwers alike, rapidly escalating their responses to all demonstrations against over thirty years of occupation in accord with previously devised plans. Palestinian police, fearing they would be discredited if they remained passive, eventually returned fire using the rifles they were issued in accordance with the Oslo agreements. Secular and Islamist Palestinian factions revitalized their military wings. As it became clear that they were hopelessly outmatched by Israel's military force, they resorted to the strategically and morally catastrophic deployment of suicide bombers, targeting civilians.

The conduct of the Israeli army in the second intifada, in sharp contrast to its prevailing image, has been singularly unheroic. Its tactics have been condemned by Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and even the State Department's annual report on human rights. This less than admirable performance forms the context for a spate of new books celebrating a better era for Israel's armed forces, when victories were gained fighting armies, not a civilian population resisting occupation and seeking national self-determination.

First there was Michael Oren's Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East, chronicling the 1967 Arab-Israeli war. Though widely acclaimed by mainstream reviewers as a definitive account of the war, Oren's book was aptly described by the tireless Norman Finkelstein as "Abba Eban with Footnotes"--a reference to Eban's eloquent but factually challenged speech at the UN General Assembly justifying Israel's pre-emptive strike of June 1967. While Oren's book is a serious work of scholarship, it essentially restates the traditional Israeli account of the war as a defensive strike waged against belligerent Arab states seeking to "throw Israel into the sea." Oren does not adequately address three arguments that challenge this view. First, according to interviews with former Defense Minister Moshe Dayan conducted in 1976 and 1977, which were kept secret for many years but published well before Oren's book, Israel had been intentionally provoking Syria since 1948 in order to establish sovereignty over the demilitarized zones on their common border. Second, according to the evaluation of several different intelligence agencies and the Israeli general staff, Israel did not face an existential danger in 1967 and could expect an easy victory. Third, Israel chose war because, as Shimon Peres wrote in the pro- Labor Party daily, Davar, its leaders did not want to negotiate over Israel's borders or the question of Palestinian refugees. The second of these matters remains off the table as far as Israel is concerned....

Posted on Saturday, May 22, 2004 at 4:18 PM | Comments (0) | Top

A Mob Museum?

Harriet Baskas, National Public Radio (May 21, 2004):

After a brief attempt at selling itself as a family vacation land, Las Vegas is restaking its claim as America's most decadent destination.

Unidentified Man: Yeah, hi. I was wondering, could I get a wake-up call tomorrow morning please? Could I get that to go to my cell phone instead of my room? Well, here's the thing. I--I'm not quite sure if I'm going to be in my room tomorrow so...

BASKAS: A new national ad campaign sports the tag line 'What happens here stays here.' The ads are paid for by the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority. And while gambling and a bit of hanky-panky seem to be acceptable, the authority's Terry Jicinsky says illegal mob activity isn't an image the city wants to promote.

Mr. TERRY JICINSKY (Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority): It's part of our history. It was acknowledged as part of our history. It isn't really what Las Vegas is about today.

BASKAS: Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman doesn't entirely agree. In fact, the mob museum was his idea.

Mayor OSCAR GOODMAN (Las Vegas): If you had mobsters during a certain period of time that contributed to what we became today, that's all part of it, and I think it's as cool as it gets.

BASKAS: From his celebrity photo-lined office overlooking downtown Las Vegas, Goodman acknowledges his first-hand knowledge of the mob. Before becoming mayor in 1999, he was a noted criminal lawyer.

Mayor GOODMAN: And I represented a lot of mobsters around here, and my practice was about 5 percent mobsters. I'm not afraid to say I was a mob lawyer.

BASKAS: For better or worse, according to historian Hal Rothman, organized crime transformed Las Vegas from a bedraggled collection of desert gambling halls into an oasis of luxury hotels, fancy casinos, leggy showgirls and big-name entertainment.

Mr. HAL ROTHMAN (Historian): Anybody in their right mind knows that from sometime in the 1940s till sometime in the 1970s, the city was mobbed up. The sources of capital and power in the city were closely tied to organized crime.

BASKAS: Rothman is the author of "Neon Metropolis: How Las Vegas Began the 21st Century." He says the mob and its money first made a mark on Las Vegas when New York gangster Meyer Lanski sent Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel to town to oversee the mob's investment in the Flamingo Hotel.

Mr. ROTHMAN: The original face--you know, when Bugsy Siegel built the Flamingo and all the way up through the Stardust, the money came really from shoe boxes. Mobsters went around to each other and said, 'I'm building a hotel in Las Vegas. I'll sell you share for $50,000, and they'd get the shoe box out from under the bed and they'd give them the cash.

BASKAS: A downtown museum exploring this history strikes Mayor Goodman as a great tourist attraction. But when he first floated the idea round town, the local Italian American community voiced concern.

Mr. ROTHMAN: When I said 'the mob,' I was not thinking of Italian Americans. I really was thinking of the mob as I knew it here, where you had fellows who had reputations like Mo Dalitz, Bugsy Siegel, Meyer Lanski, who was one of my clients. It was a Jewish mob that I was thinking of.

BASKAS: No one in the business community has actually come out publicly against the mayor's idea, even if privately they may be concerned about drawing attention to the seamy underbelly of Sin City.

Mr. DAVID MILLMAN (Nevada State Museum): I can understand not wanting to dredge out these so-called bad aspects of one's past, but I think to fully understand where we are today, you've got to understand where we've been.

Posted on Saturday, May 22, 2004 at 9:52 AM | Comments (0) | Top

Was There a Trojan War?

Manfred Korfmann, in Archaeology Magazine (May 2004):

Recorded sometime in the eighth century b.c., the Iliad represents the culmination of several centuries of oral epic poetry that wove a complex story of the relationship between mortals and gods. This narrative takes place against the bloody backdrop of the ten-year-long Greek siege of the city alternatively called Ilios or Troy, a war launched over the abduction of the beautiful Greek queen Helen by the Trojan prince Paris.

The ancient Greeks and Romans generally believed in the historicity of the Trojan War, and even Alexander the Great paid homage at what they believed was the site of the great battle. But eventually Troy was forgotten except for the Iliad, and it wasn’t until the late nineteenth century, when Heinrich Schliemann’s excavations at the site of Hisarlik in northwestern Turkey raised the possibility that Troy was rediscovered, that scholars would consider the battle between Greeks and Trojans to be more than Homeric fantasy. Some scholars, however, still cast doubt on the notion of a historical Trojan War, stressing that our belief in its existence is based ultimately on the creation of Homer, who was a poet, not a historian.

Manfred Korfmann, director of excavations at Hisarlik/Troy since 1988, is the first to admit that his team is not at the site to dig for evidence of the fabled event. But evidence in favor of a historical Trojan War appears to grow with each year, and comes not only from archaeologists but from specialists across academia. In an Archaeology exclusive, Troy’s chief excavator, with contributions from world-renowned specialists in the fields of Homeric and Hittite studies, explains why it’s time for doubters to change their minds about the Western world’s most famous—and mythic—battle.

Despite assumptions to the contrary, archaeological work of the new Troy project has not been performed for the purpose of understanding Homer’s Iliad or the Trojan War. For the past sixteen years, more than 350 scholars, scientists, and technicians from nearly twenty countries have been collaborating on the excavations at the site in northwestern Turkey that began as an Early Bronze Age citadel in the third millennium b.c. and ended as a Byzantine settlement before being abandoned in a.d. 1350. However, as current director of the excavations, I am continually asked if Homer’s Trojan War really happened.

The size of Troy

Troy appears to have been destroyed around 1180 b.c. (this date corresponds to the end of our excavation of levels Troy VIi or VIIa), probably by a war the city lost. There is evidence of a conflagration, some skeletons, and heaps of sling bullets. People who have successfully defended their city would have gathered their sling bullets and put them away for another event, but a victorious conqueror would have done nothing with them. But this does not mean that the conflict was the war—even though ancient tradition usually places it around this time. After a transitional period of a few decades, a new population from the eastern Balkans or the northwestern Black Sea region evidently settled in the ruins of what was probably a much weakened city.

The main argument against associating these ruins with the great city described in the Iliad has been that Troy in the Late Bronze Age was a wholly insignificant town and not a place worth fighting over. Our new excavations and the progress of research in southeastern Europe has changed such views regarding Troy considerably.

It appears that this city was, by the standards of this region at that time, very large indeed, and most certainly of supraregional importance in controlling access from the Mediterranean to the Black Sea and from Asia Minor to southeast Europe and vice versa. Its citadel was unparalleled in the wider region and, as far as hitherto known, unmatched anywhere in southeastern Europe. Troy was also evidently attacked repeatedly and had to defend itself again and again, as indicated by repairs undertaken to the citadel’s fortifications and efforts to enlarge and strengthen them.

A spectacular result of the new excavations has been the verification of the existence of a lower settlement from the seventeenth to the early twelfth centuries b.c. (Troy levels VI/VIIa) outside and south and east of the citadel. As magnetometer surveys and seven excavations undertaken since 1993 have shown, this lower city was surrounded at least in the thirteenth century by an impressive U-shaped fortification ditch, approximately eleven and a half feet wide and six and a half feet deep, hewn into the limestone bedrock. Conclusions about the existence and quality of buildings within the confines of the ditch have been drawn on the basis of several trial trenches and excavations, some of them covering a very large surface area. The layout of the city was confirmed by an intensive and systematic pottery survey in 2003. We have also discovered a cemetery outside the ditch to the south. The most recent excavations have determined that Troy, which now covers about seventy-five acres, is about fifteen times larger than previously thought....

Posted on Friday, May 21, 2004 at 9:01 PM | Comments (0) | Top

World War II Was the Seminal Event of the 20th Century

Scott Galupo, in the Wash Times (May 21, 2004):

... The World War II Memorial, sober and sunk low in a long frame of elms, rests between the two structures that anchor the Mall.The monument to America's first great warrior, George Washington, towers over it on one side. The statue of America's great uniter, Abraham Lincoln, looks on from the other.

In such company, the location and initial look of the new memorial to those who fought in World War II had its doubters. It would trample on ground consecrated by the civil rights movement, some said. Its design smacked of imperialist architecture, others said.

The controversy, settled in granite and bronze, came down to this: Was World War II — the lives lost, the victories gained — a hinge event of American history, on par with the founding and the Civil War? Or not?

Historians say it was: The war transformed America, and, in turn, America transformed the world.

"World War II was the seminal event of the 20th century," says Victor Davis Hanson, military historian and classicist at the University of California in Fresno and author of "Carnage and Culture," a study of the military pre-eminence of Western civilization. "Quite literally, Western civilization as we know it hung by a thread — and was saved by the efforts of Americans."

"The totality of it is what made it unique for the American experience," says Edward J. Drea, a historian of World War II who lives in Fairfax. "It affected everyone, of every class."

From December 7, 1941, to Aug. 6, 1945, America spent 400,000 lives beating back German dictator Adolf Hitler's march across Europe and Japanese Emperor Hirohito's advance in the South Pacific.

Sixteen million Americans served during the war, fully 10 percent of the population at the time. The movement of so many young men and so much materiel radically reshaped our society.

The country literally was in flux, its industrial capacity energized like never before, its agrarian roots fading further from view. The population migrated northward and, drawn by a humming new industry centered on construction of aircraft, to California.

Global war demanded a rapid acceleration in the technology of weaponry and medicine. Mr. Drea, who focuses on the South Pacific theater in books such as "MacArthur's Ultra: Codebreaking and the War Against Japan," notes that the war led to wider use of malaria suppressants such as quinine and the insecticide DDT, which helped stop typhus epidemics.

The United States devoted all its energies to the war, rationing meat, sugar and metals on the home front.

A shortage of shellac, used to manufacture phonograph records, stunted the recording of new music. Short supplies of rubber and gasoline — and trains filled with soldiers — knocked touring musicians off the road. Popular bandleader Glenn Miller sent his own musicians packing to form the Army Air Force Band and died in 1944 when a military flight disappeared over the English Channel.

Yankee legend Joe DiMaggio and movie star Jimmy Stewart joined the war effort at the height of their careers by serving in the Army and Army Air Corps, respectively, and Mr. Stewart became a decorated pilot.

Up to 40 percent of the movies Hollywood cranked out between 1941 and 1945 propagandized for the war. Hum-phrey Bogart squared off against the Nazis in 1943's "Action in the North Atlantic"; Cary Grant captained a submarine in "Destination Tokyo" the same year; and future president Ronald Reagan teamed with Errol Flynn in 1942's "Desperate Journey."

Women flocked to jobs in the men's absence. Teenagers too young to fight also took jobs, setting in motion a new youth culture that would flourish as veterans and their wives created waves of new children for the next 20 years.

After vanquishing European fascism and Japanese militarism, the postwar nation assumed the leading role in defending the world against the other great poison of the 20th century, the menace of Stalin and expansionist Soviet communism.

"The self-destruction of Europe created the conditions for the ascendancy of the U.S. in world affairs," Mr. Hanson says, "and, tragically but necessarily, demanded a new responsibility to expend blood and treasure — immediately after our greatest sacrifice — to prevent the Soviet Union from capitalizing on the ruin of Europe."

...

Posted on Friday, May 21, 2004 at 8:30 PM | Comments (0) | Top

What Accounts for the Renewal of the New York Review of Books ? Vietnam

Scott Sherman, in the Nation (June 7, 2004):

... In the wake of the Vietnam War, the [New Yok Review of Books] became a formidable--and, in some sense, unique--journalistic institution. Many of its readers reside in academia, but the paper has a devoted following in the upper reaches of media, politics and philanthropy, which gives it an influence vastly out of proportion to its circulation of 130,000. (One recent essay, Peter Galbraith's "How to Get Out of Iraq," even caused a stir among some military intellectuals.) That influence translates into dollars: In contrast to virtually all serious literary and political journals, which drain money from their owners, the Review has been profitable for decades. But the formula is not without its imperfections, which have grown more pronounced in recent years. The publication has always been erudite and authoritative--and because of its analytical rigor and seriousness, frequently essential--but it hasn't always been lively, pungent and readable. A musty odor, accompanied by a certain aversion to risk-taking, has pervaded its pages for a long time. "In recent years," says the historian Ronald Steel, who has contributed since 1965, "the paper has sometimes verged on being bland or predictable, always using the same people."

But the election of George W. Bush, combined with the furies of 9/11, jolted the editors. Since 2001, the Review's temperature has risen and its political outlook has sharpened. Old warhorses bolted from their armchairs. Prominent members of the Review "family"--a stable that includes veteran journalists (Thomas Powers, Frances FitzGerald, Ian Buruma), literary stars (Joan Didion, Norman Mailer) and academic heavyweights (Stanley Hoffmann, Ronald Dworkin, Arthur Schlesinger Jr.)--charged into battle not only against the White House but against the lethargic press corps and the "liberal hawk" intellectuals, some of whom are themselves prominent members of the Review's extended family. In stark contrast to The New Yorker, whose editor, David Remnick, endorsed the Iraq war in a signed essay in February 2003, asserting that "a return to a hollow pursuit of containment will be the most dangerous option of all"; or The New York Times Magazine, which gave ample space to Michael Ignatieff, Bill Keller, Paul Berman, George Packer and other prowar liberal hawks, the Review opposed the Iraq war in a voice that was remarkably consistent and unified.

The firepower it directed against the liberal hawks reveals much about the Review's political mood these days. Like many in the liberal hawk camp, the publication sanctioned US military intervention in the Balkans on humanitarian grounds. But when Ignatieff & Co. invoked the logic of humanitarian intervention as a basis for military action against Saddam Hussein, the Review (which has showcased Ignatieff's work for years) insisted that Bush's crusade against Iraq was something closer to old-fashioned imperialism. As Ian Buruma wrote in a quietly devastating assessment of Paul Berman's 2003 book Terror and Liberalism: "There is something in the tone of Berman's polemic that reminds me of the quiet American in Graham Greene's novel, the man of principle who causes mayhem, without quite realizing why."

What blew the dust off The New York Review? In no sense, really, has the paper returned to its New Left sensibility of the late 1960s: Chomsky, Hayden and Willis have not been reinstated; young lions like The Baffler's Tom Frank and The Village Voice's Rick Perlstein have not been invited to contribute; Eric Foner, Bruce Cumings, Richard Rorty, Chalmers Johnson, Stephen Holmes, Anatol Lieven, Elaine Showalter and Carol Brightman continue to publish much of their finest work not in The New York Review of Books but in the more radical, eccentric and sprightly pages of the London Review of Books. In short, the Review's liberal (and establishment) soul remains intact. What has changed significantly, in the age of Bush, is the Review's style of rhetoric and degree of political focus and commitment....

What accounts for the Review's post-9/11 revival? One word that continually tumbles from the lips of seasoned Review-watchers is "Vietnam." Says Mark Danner, who worked for Silvers after he graduated from Harvard in the early 1980s, and who has recently produced some searching essays in the Review about Iraq, "If you look back over the Review's history, you'll find that periods of crisis bring out the best editorial instincts of the leadership of The New York Review. It certainly happened with Vietnam and Iran/contra. It gets the juices flowing."

Some observers point to a circular continuity between the Review's coverage of Vietnam and Iraq. "The late 1960s, for the paper, were, to some extent, the age of Chomsky," says Harvard professor Stanley Hoffmann. "The Review was a very strong critic of the Vietnam War. Gradually it became less militant, if you like. And indeed in the last year it has found some of its old vigor again, but it never lost what can be called a highly critical viewpoint about a number of aspects of international relations and foreign affairs." ...

Posted on Friday, May 21, 2004 at 8:04 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Tina Brown: History Is Hot Right Now

Tina Brown, in the Wash Post (May 20, 2004):

History is hot. And not just because of Brad Pitt's flying thighs.

There's such an outpouring of books from historians at the moment, you can't throw a canape in Manhattan after 6 p.m. without hitting a tweedy scholar wearing the dazed expression that comes with a sudden release from the past.

The city has been crawling with superstar academics peddling their tomes at tonier-than-usual launch events and overstuffed gigs at the Council on Foreign Relations. Everybody's looking for lessons to support wherever they stand on the meltdown in Iraq, and they're drawing them from books as disparate as Ron Chernow's "Alexander Hamilton," Niall Ferguson's "Colossus," Simon Sebag Montefiore's "Stalin," David Fromkin's "Europe's Last Summer" and James Chace's "1912" -- to name just a few.

The history men have surfaced in the nick of time. As the Iraq crisis deepens, the pundits are either wringing their hands or theatrically recanting. First, the inside dopesters of the spring (Paul O'Neill, Richard Clarke and Bob Woodward) cranked up our anxiety, then the 9/11 commission hit the road to torment New York with a thousand might-have-beens. In an era blinded by news-crawl, only history's depth can give solace to a nation hungry for perspective.

British historians are particularly in demand for the international back story. Floppy-haired Scottish pinup Ferguson has had rapturous receptions for "Colossus." Audiences coast to coast are alternately gratified and rattled by his thesis that America has become an imperial power and had better come out of the closet and deal with it. America, he says genially, has attention-deficit disorder and will fail miserably as an effective liberal empire unless it soon adjusts its culture and its institutions to responsibilities it cannot escape. "People in America are fascinated by the ideas in my book as if by a particularly venomous snake," Ferguson told me from his sanctuary in Oxford, where he has now returned. "They've been thinking about rebuilding Iraq in two years. So when I talk about how the British arrived in Iraq in 1917 and left in 1955, it's bound to make their flesh creep."...

All the historians are eager to redirect Rumsfeld, Cheney and Wolfowitz on their night table reading. James Chace's regret about 1912 is that Woodrow Wilson won the presidential election that year and kick-started democratic evangelism. Ron Chernow prescribes a dose of Federalist Papers realism: "Hamilton had a darker, more pessimistic view of human nature and foreign policy than Jefferson. While he felt the world had an enormous amount to learn from the U.S., he also felt the U.S. had a lot to learn from the world."

Ferguson sees the Bushies trapped in a tunnel of American self-reference. "It is a very confining thing to understand your own history only in its own terms," he says. It's what Columbia's polymath historian Simon Schama calls "the fallacy of reading history for self-confirmation -- America as God's plan for providence."

Schama has assigned some summer reading for Rummy once he's through with Grant: Thucydides' "History of the Peloponnesian War," Edward Gibbon's "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," Steven Runciman's "A History of the Crusades" and, for a case of imperial nerves, The "Meditations" of Marcus Aurelius. Also, E.M. Forster's "A Passage to India" and Lytton Strachey's essay in "Eminent Victorians" on the loony Maj. Gen. Charles Gordon of Khartoum.

"We have had a triumph of political theory over history," Schama told me. He faults the administration for viewing history as self-emasculating thoughtfulness as against the virile approach of pure principle. "What was needed," Schama says, "was principle chastened by the lessons of the past."

Posted on Friday, May 21, 2004 at 2:29 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Lewis & Clark Aren't Celebrated Among Indians

Kris Axtman, in the Christian Science Monitor (May 14, 2004):

When Meriwether Lewis and William Clark pushed off from the banks of the Mississippi River near St. Louis on May 14, 1804, along with a group of skilled botanists, zoologists, and survivalists, the two had little idea of what lay ahead.

Their only directive, given by President Thomas Jefferson: Reach the Pacific Ocean.

The journey, which lasted two years and four months, is widely taught as one of America's greatest adventure stories - symbolizing the country's strength of spirit and thirst for discovery.

But only when it's taught from Captain Lewis and Lieutenant Clark's perspectives. For the 114 native American tribes they encountered along the route, it wasn't a story of "discovery." In fact, for many Indians, the expedition and settlement to come were a death sentence.

So it's no surprise that the 200th anniversary of Lewis and Clark's journey is causing consternation on Indian reservations across America. Just over a decade ago, the 500-year celebration of Christopher Columbus's arrival in the New World brought massive protests from native people throughout the Western Hemisphere.

At the time, historian Garry Wills wrote: "A funny thing happened on the way to the quincentennial observation of America's 'discovery.' Columbus got mugged. This time the Indians were waiting for him."

That uneasy commemoration and the hard feelings it elicited among native Americans was a cautionary tale for Lewis and Clark planners; it became the model not to follow, says Robert Archibald, president of The National Council for the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial, a nonprofit organizing group.

"One of the reasons Columbus's quincentennial caused so many problems was that nobody could decide whose story it was," he says. "Was it Columbus's, the Indians', the Portuguese, the Spanish, the Italians'? Everyone kept fighting over the story, and it differed depending on who was telling it."

This time, says Dr. Archibald, the intent is clear: to commemorate the journey, rekindle its spirit, and remember the contributions and goodwill of native peoples.

To that end, the tribes that the adventurers encountered 200 years ago have been asked to be heavily involved in activities over a four-year period. Of the roughly 60 remaining tribal governments, 40 have agreed to participate, with one member of each tribe sitting on the Circle of Tribal Advisors on the national council.

On their recommendation, loaded words such as "discovery" and "celebration" have been erased from the vocabulary, replaced by words like "journey" and "commemoration." The idea, says Archibald, is to give Americans a more balanced view.

Although tribes were reluctant to participate at first, many came to view the partnership as an opportunity to educate a global audience about their culture and concerns, both past and present. In that spirit, their involvement isn't simply to "put on a show" of song and dance, says Amy Mossett, the tribal involvement coordinator for the national council and a member of the Mandan tribe. It will include lectures, plays, and museum exhibits.

But don't confuse participation with acceptance.

"Lewis and Clark are not our heroes; they never will be our heroes," says Ms. Mossett. "They represent the opening of the West to American settlement - and that meant dissettlement of native Americans and the destruction of their cultures and families. But one thing we do have to celebrate is that we survived Lewis and Clark."

In Montana, for example, where Lewis and Clark spent more time than any other state, mention of the explorers is met by ambivalence, if not resentment, on many native American reservations.

Tribal officials say that although Columbus's arrival 500 years ago launched the conquest of native peoples and their homelands, Lewis and Clark are credited with bringing that conquest to their own backyards. Some believe their way of life began to disintegrate with the brokering of the Louisiana Purchase and expansion of America in the 19th century.

Walter Fleming, chairman of the department of Native American Studies at Montana State University in Bozeman and a member of the Kickapoo tribe, teaches an alternative perspective of Lewis and Clark.

Professor Fleming's courses routinely question traditional history. Was Lewis and Clark's Shoshone guide Sacagawea really a liberated woman, or was she a slave? Did the explorers really regard native Americans as their equals?

Fleming says that even the changing of "celebration" to "commemoration" is insulting - because for Indian people, it means the same thing. "When native Americans complain, we're told to just get over it, which is like telling a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust to just forget what happened 60 years ago," he says. "The story of Lewis and Clark is a lightning rod for us."

But tribal advisers on the national council say they don't see Indian participation as a sign of approval. Instead, partnership gives them an opportunity to discuss issues facing native Americans today, such as the loss of ancient languages, desecration of sacred sites, and a lack of infrastructure on reservations.

"Another benefit is that we could finally reclaim our role in this history that so many Americans learned in third grade," says Bobbie Conner, vice chair of the national council and a member of the Umatilla tribe. "This group of people traveling through the wilderness, well, those were our homelands. We were already there, watching them come and watching them go. Many times we could have ended the expedition, but we didn't."

All along the route, native Americans provided the explorers with food and water, shelter, information about the route ahead, and even an emotional lift.

"The Lewis and Clark expedition is one of the great American stories of heroism, bravery, and human endurance," says Robert Miller, an associate professor at Lewis and Clark Law School in Portland and a member of the Eastern Shawnee tribe. "But the complete history must include the fact that without the assistance of Indian people, the expedition would not have succeeded."

Posted on Friday, May 21, 2004 at 2:01 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Did William Rehnquist Embrace Plessy v Ferguson?

Cass Sunstein, in the LAT (May 17, 2004):

When the Supreme Court decided Brown vs. Board of Education on this day in 1954, it overruled Plessy vs. Ferguson, one of the most infamous decisions in the history of the court.

In that case, which dated back to 1896, the court ruled that the Constitution allowed the prosecution of a 30-year-old African American shoemaker named Homer Plessy for refusing to sit in the "colored" car on the train.

The Plessy decision enshrined the idea of "separate but equal" for more than half a century. Justice Henry Brown's opinion for the majority concluded that although the 14th Amendment was clearly meant to "enforce the absolute equality of the two races before the law," it couldn't possibly have been meant to abolish "distinctions based upon physical differences," or to enforce "social equality," or to require "a commingling of the two races upon terms unsatisfactory to either."

Brown vs. Board of Education changed all that, with all nine justices agreeing that enforced separation was, in fact, "inherently unequal." In the years that followed, the court, led by Chief Justice Earl Warren, struck down segregation everywhere. It insisted on compulsory desegregation -- requiring busing, if necessary, to do so. It struck down poll taxes and called for a rule of one person, one vote, knowing this would help equalize the political power of African Americans.

But since then, things have radically changed again. Under the leadership of Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist, the court has abandoned the minority-protecting role assumed by the Warren court. What happened?

A clue comes from a provocative and uncannily prescient memorandum written by a young law clerk for Justice Robert H. Jackson in 1952, during early deliberations that led to the Brown decision, well before Jackson had made up his mind about segregation. The memo was called "A Random Thought on the Segregation Cases." It was initialed at the bottom, "whr," signaling that it had been written by none other than William H. Rehnquist, still less than 30 years old and two decades away from being appointed to the court.

Rehnquist's memo unambiguously stated that "Plessy vs. Ferguson was right and should be reaffirmed." It acknowledged that this "is an unpopular and unhumanitarian position for which I have been excoriated by 'liberal' colleagues." But in its key passage, it insisted that "one hundred and fifty years of attempts on the part of this court to protect minority rights of any kind -- whether those of business, slaveholders, or Jehovah's Witnesses -- have all met the same fate. One by one the cases establishing such rights have been sloughed off, and crept silently to rest. If the present court is unable to profit by this example, it must be prepared to see its work fade in time, too, as embodying only the sentiments of a transient majority of nine men."

Rehnquist went on: "To the argument ... that a majority may not deprive a minority of its constitutional right, the answer must be made that while this is sound in theory, in the long run it is the majority who will determine what the constitutional rights of the minority are."

Rehnquist's memo concluded that the court should uphold segregation and refuse to protect "special claims" merely "because its members individually are 'liberals' and dislike segregation."

There is no doubt that Rehnquist wrote this memo. But was he speaking for himself?

Testifying before the Senate in 1971, the year he was nominated to the court, Rehnquist said the memo "was prepared by me at Justice Jackson's request; it was intended as a rough draft of a statement of his views ... rather than as a statement of my views."

Many historians, however, have concluded that Rehnquist's memory was inaccurate and that his memo contained his own thoughts, not a record of Jackson's. Consider the words, "it is an unpopular and unhumanitarian position, for which I have been excoriated by 'liberal' colleagues." This sounds like Rehnquist, not Jackson -- a conclusion strengthened by a 1957 Rehnquist essay complaining of "the 'liberal' point of view which commanded the sympathy of a majority of the clerks I knew."

Either way, Rehnquist's memo captures much of the thinking of the court today.

Rehnquist has argued long and hard against efforts to extend Brown or to use the Constitution to protect politically weak groups -- African Americans, women, handicapped people, gays and lesbians. Often he has objected to "attempts on the part of this court to protect minority rights."

Half a century after Brown, those concerned with racial equality now find that they do best when they resort to political, rather than judicial, channels. Of course Brown remains the law; segregation is unconstitutional. But the 1952 memo has turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy: Under Rehnquist's leadership, the role assumed by the Warren court, and signaled above all by Brown, did indeed "fade in time."

Posted on Friday, May 21, 2004 at 1:32 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Anne Applebaum: Blanding-Down History

Anne Applebaum, in the Wash Post (May 18, 2004):

... [A]lthough a lot of angst has been focused on the dark forces of political correctness in education, the larger problem in many schools is an apolitical one: Nowadays, history is too often drained of any meaning, left- or right-wing, whatsoever.

Partly this is because history, unlike math or science, doesn't lend itself easily to standardized tests. This is clear from the sample questions proudly displayed on the Department of Education's "U.S. History: The Nation's Report Card" Web site. One, designed for fourth graders, shows a picture of a feather. The question beneath it reads: "In pioneer schools, feathers like this were most often used for (a) measuring, (b) sewing, (c) writing, (d) playing a game." On the basis of students' answering "(c)" to questions such as that one, the National Center for Education Statistics triumphantly declared, in 2001, that the "average scores of fourth and eighth-grade students have improved since 1994."

But testing alone isn't the problem. Recently a group called the American Textbook Council reviewed the standard world history textbooks used between sixth and 12th grades in schools across the country. They found a huge variety of staggering flaws, from phony attempts at relevance, such as comparisons of Odysseus to Indiana Jones, to bad writing and design. Proliferating cartoons, sidebars and trivia drown out the main narrative. The need to touch on everything from the Mongols to Renaissance women to the Holocaust leads to discussions of genocide so compact and simplistic as to be offensive:

"Genocide is an attempt to kill all the people or members of a certain group. Why would one group of people want to completely destroy another group of people? One reason a group of people commits genocide is hatred."

But the worst offense is a tone of cheerful, sanitized neutrality so overwhelming that it actually renders the prose ahistorical. Thus in a section on "Life Behind the Iron Curtain," middle-schoolers are taught both that "Communist governments in Eastern Europe granted their people few freedoms," and that "in some ways, Communist governments did take care of their citizens. Food prices were low. Health care was free," as if all prices really were low and health care really was free in economic systems that depended upon bribery and connections. Thus in a unit on the Industrial Revolution, students are asked how they would react if forced to become child laborers -- "Would you join a union, go to school, or run away?" -- as if there actually were unions, universal education and places for children to run to in early-19th century Britain. Thus in a chapter on Africa, the word "tribe" is carefully avoided. Good teachers can and do overcome bad textbooks, but they clearly have an uphill battle.

The issue, then, is not merely the absence of the dead white men: The issue is the absence of both dead white men and slavery, the absence of both the Constitution and the violence that was used to preserve it. To put it differently, the issue is the low expectations we now have of our children, whom we too often judge incapable of hearing the truth. If we want them, someday, to understand why judges and senators and presidents think Brown was so inspiring, we will eventually have to teach them the parts of the story that precede the happy ending.

Posted on Wednesday, May 19, 2004 at 2:30 PM | Comments (1) | Top

Eric Foner & Randall Kennedy: Brown at 50

Eric Foner and Randall Kennedy, in the Nation (May 4, 2004):

Prior to the landmark Supreme Court rulings in Brown v. Board of Education and Bolling v. Sharpe, the US government and the states were permitted to segregate students racially in primary and secondary public schools. The official rationale for this arrangement was that students--black as well as white--would all fare better in their own, racially distinct schools. Schooling would be separate...but equal, and thus fair. The "separate but equal" formula was coined in Massachusetts in 1850 but elevated to national influence in 1896 when, in Plessy v. Ferguson, the Supreme Court affirmed the constitutionality of a Louisiana statute that required racial segregation on trains.

Dissenting in Plessy, Justice John Marshall Harlan stated forthrightly what everyone actually knew: that racial segregation arose not from any mutual, reciprocal, respectful desire for social distance and group autonomy but rather as an expression of white supremacist subordination of people of color. Noting that segregation proceeds "on the ground that colored citizens are so inferior and degraded" that they cannot be allowed to share public space with whites, Harlan predicted that segregation would "stimulate aggressions...upon the admitted rights of colored citizens," "arouse race hate" and "perpetuate a feeling of distrust between [the] races."

The half-century after Plessy confirmed Harlan's dire prophecies. White supremacists bent on undoing the gains achieved during the Reconstruction Era disenfranchised blacks, severely limited their economic and educational opportunities, terrorized them through mob violence and systematically stigmatized them by extending segregationist laws and customs to practically every sphere of social life, from hospitals to prisons, beaches, restaurants, bathrooms and schools. In some courtrooms, witnesses of different races were required to take oaths on separate Bibles.

On May 17, 1954, the Supreme Court in Brown invalidated state laws requiring or permitting racial segregation in public primary and secondary schools. Such laws, the Court concluded, violate the equal protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Simultaneously, in Bolling the Court held that the due process clause of the Fifth Amendment prohibited the federal government from racially segregating students in the District of Columbia. "In the field of public education," the Court declared, "the doctrine of 'separate but equal' has no place."

These decisions marked a major step forward in the struggle for racial justice--one that surely warrants commemorating on its fiftieth anniversary. The rulings reflected and encouraged developments that would soon spark that burst of humane, bold and heroic action we now know as the civil rights movement. Brown and Bolling stemmed from an extraordinary campaign of social reform litigation mainly led by black attorneys who had themselves suffered cruel deprivations imposed by segregation. These decisions demonstrated that at least some sectors of the white establishment were willing to begin cautiously to challenge open, unembarrassed, official discriminations against blacks and other peoples of color....

We invited a wide range of commentators to participate in this special issue of The Nation, and they offer varying, sometimes conflicting assessments of Brown, its companion cases and its legacy. Judge Robert L. Carter revisits his ideas and motivations as one of the lead attorneys who argued the cases at trial and on appeal. Michael J. Klarman reconsiders the social milieu that surrounded the 1954 Supreme Court and evaluates Brown's place in civil rights history. Jack Bass shows how a remarkable cadre of progressive judges in the lower federal courts (most of them Republican appointees) were critical to enforcing Brown's mandate. Alan Richard returns to Clarendon County, South Carolina, to probe lingering tensions in a rural locale where school desegregation plaintiffs fifty years ago were brutally repressed. Michael Honey illuminates the ways in which desegregation struggles have intersected with efforts to advance the interests of urban black workers. Peter Schrag and Claude M. Steele each offer concrete strategies for improving the lot of disadvantaged minority students today. And the diverse participants in the forum that follows weigh the impact of Brown on an American society still afflicted by profound racial inequalities.

A recurrent message in this issue is that Brown v. Board of Education and its companion cases contributed in a major way to bettering America by delegitimizing racial segregation in public schooling. A second key theme, however, is that Brown's promise remains, to a considerable extent, unfulfilled. Jim Crow schooling is not a wrong inflicted in ancient times on people long since dead; it is an all too recent injustice that created unhealed wounds. A century ago, W.E.B. Du Bois wrote the famous words, "The problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color line." Despite all that has changed since Brown, his words remain a challenge for the twenty-first.

Posted on Monday, May 17, 2004 at 9:45 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Michael Klarman: The Supreme Court Has Never Been in the Vanguard of Social Reform

Michael Klarman, in the NYT (May 17, 2004):

The Supreme Court has never been in the vanguard of social reform. Few people would credit it with playing a pivotal role in the women's movement, the environmental movement or the gay rights movement. Yet many people, citing the court's decision in Brown v. Board of Education, insist that it played a crucial role in the civil rights movement.

The justices who decided the case knew better. Brown was possible only because significant changes in racial attitudes and practices were already taking place in America. Justice Felix Frankfurter later observed that had a challenge to school segregation reached the court in the 1940's, he would have voted to reject it because "public opinion had not then crystallized against segregation." The N.A.A.C.P. understood this, too, and refrained from directly challenging school segregation until 1950.

Although the origins of the civil rights movement are complex, the search for a catalyst goes back at least as far as World War II. The ideology of the war was antifascist and prodemocratic. In 1942, for example, The New York Times urged America to end racial discrimination in order to avoid "the sinister hypocrisy of fighting abroad for what it is not willing to accept at home."

Thousands of African-American soldiers became civil rights pioneers, reasoning that if they were good enough to risk their lives for democracy, they should enjoy some of it at home. During the 1940's, one and a half million African-Americans moved from the rural South, where they had been almost universally disenfranchised, to the urban North, where they not only voted without restriction but often tipped the balance between evenly divided political parties. As the cold war dawned, the United States government identified racial discrimination as a potentially crippling liability because it "furnishes grist for the Communist propaganda mills."

These and other forces were having noticeable effects even before Brown. Jackie Robinson desegregated Major League Baseball in 1947. President Harry Truman desegregated the federal military and civil service in 1948. Even in the South, significant racial reforms were afoot; black voter registration increased to 20 percent in 1950 from 3 percent in 1940. By the time of Brown, dozens of Southern cities had hired their first black police officers since Reconstruction....

Brown certainly played a role in shaping both the civil rights movement and the violent response it received from Southern whites. But racial reform in the United States was ineluctable. In the end, what the Supreme Court did or did not do was of limited importance.

Posted on Monday, May 17, 2004 at 8:26 PM | Comments (0) | Top

The Hispanic "Brown" Case

Editorial in the NYT (May 15, 2004):

Fifty years ago this month, the Supreme Court handed down a landmark civil rights decision, the first under the newly seated Chief Justice Earl Warren. Brown v. Board of Education, involving African-Americans and segregated schools, came two weeks later. Unlike Brown, the case called Hernandez v. Texas has been mostly relegated to legal footnotes. But this decision, which protected Mexican-Americans and the right to fair trials and helped widen the definition of discrimination beyond race, deserves more attention.

In Texas and throughout much of the Southwestern United States in the first half of the 20th century, people of Mexican origin were subjected to discrimination and worse. They were forced to use segregated public restrooms and attend segregated schools. Hundreds of them were killed in lynchings. And in Jackson County, Tex., where Mexican-Americans made up 14 percent of the population by the early 1950's, not a single person with a Spanish surname had been allowed to serve on a jury in 25 years. Some 70 Texas counties had similar records of exclusion.

The practice survived legal challenges until Pete Hernandez, a migrant cotton picker, was convicted by an all-Anglo jury in the murder of Joe Espinosa in Jackson County. Seeing an opportunity, a team of Hispanic civil rights lawyers from the American G.I. Forum and the League of United Latin American Citizens filed a suit that finally reached the Supreme Court in early 1954. Ignacio Garcia, a history professor at Brigham Young University who is writing a book about the Hernandez case, said that it marked the first time Hispanic lawyers had argued before the Supreme Court.

Chief Justice Warren, in delivering the court's unanimous opinion on May 3, rejected the state's argument that the absence of Hispanics on juries was a coincidence and that in any case, they were represented because Mexican-Americans were legally classified as white. In reversing Mr. Hernandez's conviction, the court held that in excluding Hispanics from jury duty, Texas had unreasonably singled out a class of people for different treatment. The defendant, it said, had been deprived of the equal protection guaranteed by the 14th Amendment, a guarantee "not directed solely against discrimination between whites and Negroes."

Today, the Hernandez case is little known even among civil rights experts. It came at a time when the pillars of discrimination were set to topple in quick succession. The Brown decision drew all of the nation's attention and set civil rights priorities along racial lines. Women began to serve on Texas juries in 1954, and their battle for inclusion would continue to be waged in the South for the next decade.

Somehow, the transcripts of the Hispanic lawyers' oral arguments before the Supreme Court in the Hernandez case and other records were lost. As for Mr. Hernandez, he was convicted in Mr. Espinosa's murder a second time, by a jury that included two Mexican-American men. He served his time, and then he disappeared. But the case that bears his name does not deserve the same fate. It ushered in an era of progress and hope whose promises we are still struggling to keep.

Posted on Monday, May 17, 2004 at 8:16 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Was a Tyrant Prefigured by Baby Saddam?

Elisabeth Bumiller, in the NYT (May 15, 2004):

It is no surprise to Jerrold M. Post, the founder of the Center for the Analysis of Personality and Political Behavior at the C.I.A., that Saddam Hussein grew up to be one of the world's most dangerous dictators and a member of President Bush's axis of evil.

"Of all of the leaders I've profiled, his background is assuredly the most traumatic," Dr. Post said in an interview this week in his wood-paneled, African-artifact-filled office in Bethesda, Md., where he is a psychiatrist for patients whose personal struggles have typically not led to two American wars in the Middle East. "His troubles can really be traced back to the womb."

As Dr. Post recounts in his new book, "Leaders and Their Followers in a Dangerous World" (Cornell University Press, $29.95), Mr. Hussein's father died, probably of cancer, in the fourth month of his mother's pregnancy with Saddam. Mr. Hussein's 12-year-old brother died, also of cancer, a few months later. The trauma left Saddam's mother, Sabha, so desperately depressed that she tried and failed to abort Saddam and kill herself. When Saddam was born, she would have nothing to do with him and sent him away to an uncle.

At 3 Mr. Hussein was reunited with his mother after she had married a distant relative, but he was then physically and psychologically abused by his new stepfather. Mr. Hussein left home and returned to live with the uncle when he was 8 or 9.

"So that would produce in psychoanalytic terms what we call `the wounded self,' " Dr. Post said. "Most people with that kind of background would be highly ineffective as adults and be faltering, insecure human beings." But there is, Dr. Post said, an alternative path that a minority of wounded selves take: "malignant narcissism," the personality disorder that Dr. Post believes fueled Mr. Hussein's rise in Iraq. Perhaps most important, Dr. Post says, is that Mr. Hussein is a "judicious political calculator," not a madman.

Not everyone, of course, subscribes to the view that psychiatric profiles of dictators are predictive, useful or even accurate. "The study of human behavior is a very complex thing," said Walter Russell Mead, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and the author of "Power, Terror, Peace and War: America's Grand Strategy in a World at Risk." "Sometimes I get up in the morning and I don't know why I do what I do." Studies like Dr. Post's can help, Mr. Mead said, "but you really do have to use this kind of information cautiously."

Although Dr. Post has spent 30 years creating hundreds of political profiles of American foes (among them, Fidel Castro), he also developed the profiles of Anwar el-Sadat and Menachem Begin for Jimmy Carter's use at the Camp David talks that led to peace between Egypt and Israel in 1979. Since 9/11 his work has taken on new urgency. Understanding the minds of rogue leaders, he says, is essential to developing policies that can counteract them....

Posted on Monday, May 17, 2004 at 8:14 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Anti-Semite?

Cathy Young, in Reason magazine (May 2004):

Controversy rages as charges of anti-Semitism dog a beloved cultural icon. No, not Mel Gibson: The man at the center of this debate is the Russian writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn.

Solzhenitsyn, author of The Gulag Archipelago, was once a revered symbol of moral resistance to the Soviet state. He probably deserves more credit than any other person for stripping away communism’s moral prestige among Western intellectuals.

Exiled from the Soviet Union in 1974, Solzhenitsyn alienated some erstwhile admirers with his Russian nationalism and his antipathy toward Western-style democracy; after his return to Russia 20 years later, the public’s reverence soon faded to polite indifference. Still, he retains his special status among the older intelligentsia and many Western anti-communists.

Accusations of anti-Semitism are not new for Solzhenitsyn. Critics have long pointed to passages in The Gulag Archipelago that selectively list the Jewish last names of labor camp commandants. And Solzhenitsyn’s historical novel August 1914, published in English in 1972, emphasizes the Jewishness of Dmitry Bogrov, assassin of Russia’s reformist prime minister Pyotr Stolypin.

Solzhenitsyn has claimed that he was merely telling it like it was, but August 1914 embellishes history considerably: While Bogrov was a thoroughly assimilated revolutionary from a family of third-generation converts, Solzhenitsyn saddles him with a Jewish first name, Mordko (a diminutive of Mordecai), and the fictitious motive of trying to undermine the Russian state to help the Jews.

Then came the news that Solzhenitsyn was writing a major history of the Jews in Russia. The first volume of Dvesti let vmeste (Two Hundred Years Together), covering the period from 1795 to 1916, appeared in 2001; the second volume followed in 2003. According to Solzhenitsyn, the work was intended to give an objective and balanced account of Russian-Jewish relations: "I appeal to both sides -- the Russians and the Jews -- for patient mutual understanding and admission of their own share of sin." This comment seems suspicious in itself, given that, for most of their history in Russia, Jews were victims of systematic oppression and violence. To talk about mutual guilt is a bit like asking blacks to accept their share of blame for Jim Crow.

What does Solzhenitsyn see as the Jews’ share of sin? Mainly, their participation in revolutionary activities in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and then in the Soviet government. He rejects claims that communism in Russia was the result of a Jewish plot but asserts that Jews played a "disproportionate role" in the creation of a terrorist state "insensitive to the Russian people and disconnected from Russian history."

Just what does "disproportionate" mean? Jews were overrepresented among the socialist revolutionaries, but as the historian Richard Pipes points out in The New Republic, they were also overrepresented among Russian capitalists. What’s more, says Pipes, "the ranks of the revolutionaries were certainly dominated by Russians." A three-part series by Mark Deitch in the Russian daily Moskovskiy komsomolets last September noted that there were 43 Jews among the 300 major players on the Russian political scene in 1917 -- and only 16 of them were Bolsheviks.

Solzhenitsyn asserts that "the population of Russia, as a whole, regarded the new [revolutionary] terror as a Jewish terror" -- and seeks, if not to validate, then at least to excuse this perception. Deitch subjects Solzhenitsyn’s account to a withering analysis. After quoting historian Lev Krichevsky’s statement that "in 1918, at the time of the Red Terror, ethnic minorities made up about 50 percent of the central staff of the Cheka [the secret police]," Solzhenitsyn adds that "Jews were quite prominent" among those minorities.

But he omits Krichevsky’s actual data, which show that Jews made up less than 4 percent of the Cheka staff and held 8 percent of executive positions. On other occasions, though, Solzhenitsyn is not averse to exact numbers: He points out, for example, that six of the 12 Cheka investigators in the "department for the suppression of counter-revolution" were Jewish....

Posted on Friday, May 14, 2004 at 1:00 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Harvard Poet Helen Vendler's Rebuke of History

Harvard poet Helen Vendler, in the course of her Jefferson Lecture (May 6, 2004):

When it became useful in educational circles in the United States to group various university disciplines under the name "The Humanities," it seems to have been tacitly decided that philosophy and history would be cast as the core of this grouping, and that other forms of learning--the study of languages, literatures, religion, and the arts--would be relegated to subordinate positions. Philosophy, conceived of as embodying truth, and history, conceived of as a factual record of the past, were proposed as the principal embodiments of Western culture, and given pride of place in general education programs.

Confidence in a reliable factual record, not to speak of faith in a reliable philosophical synthesis, has undergone considerable erosion. Historical and philosophical assertions issue, it seems, from particular vantage points, and are no less contestable than the assertions of other disciplines. The day of limiting cultural education to Western culture alone is over. There are losses here, of course--losses in depth of learning, losses in coherence--but these very changes have thrown open the question of how the humanities should now be conceived, and how the study of the humanities should, in this moment, be encouraged.

I want to propose that the humanities should take, as their central objects of study, not the texts of historians or philosophers, but the products of aesthetic endeavor: architecture, art, dance, music, literature, theater, and so on. After all, it is by their arts that cultures are principally remembered. For every person who has read a Platonic dialogue, there are probably ten who have seen a Greek marble in a museum, or if not a Greek marble, at least a Roman copy, or if not a Roman copy, at least a photograph. Around the arts there exist, in orbit, the commentaries on art produced by scholars: musicology and music criticism, art history and art criticism, literary and linguistic studies. At the periphery we might set the other humanistic disciplines--philosophy, history, the study of religion. The arts would justify a broad philosophical interest in ontology, phenomenology, and ethics; they would bring in their train a richer history than one which, in its treatment of mass phenomena, can lose sight of individual human uniqueness--the quality most prized in artists, and most salient, and most valued, in the arts....

We will ultimately want to teach, with justifiable pride, our national patrimony in arts and letters--by which, if by anything, we will be remembered--and we hope, of course, to foster young readers and writers, artists and museum--goers, composers and music enthusiasts. But these patriotic and cultural aims alone are not enough to justify putting the arts and the studies of the arts at the center of our humanistic and educational enterprise. What, then, might lead us to recommend the arts and their commentaries as the center of the humanities? Art, said Wallace Stevens, helps us to live our lives. I'm not sure we are greatly helped to live our lives by history (since whether or not we remember it we seem doomed to repeat it), or by philosophy (the consolations of philosophy have never been very widely received). Stevens's assertion is a large one, and we have a right to ask how he would defend it. How do the arts, and the scholarly studies attendant on them, help us to live our lives? ...

Posted on Friday, May 14, 2004 at 11:22 AM | Comments (0) | Top

Evolution: Still Controversial (Teaching It Is Banned in Islamic Countries)

Craig McDonald, in ThisWeek (May 13, 2004):

In 1998, Mansfield native Edward J. Larson earned the Pulitzer Prize in history for his book, Summer of the Gods: The Scopes Trial and America's Continuing Debate Over Science and Religion.

On May 20, Larson will come to Columbus to discuss Evolution: The Remarkable History of a Scientific Theory (Modern Library Chronicles, 337 pages, $21.95).

"There were lots of books on the concept of evolution or little parts of it," Larson recently told ThisWeek, "but there simply wasn't a readable, comprehensive book that people could just take off the shelf and understand how the theory of evolution has developed over time and where it came from. When you see the whole story together, it's much easier to understand the controversies that continue to plague the teaching of the theory of evolution today."

Larson, who is currently Russell Professor of History and Talmadge Professor of Law at the University of Georgia, said that when he speaks on the Scopes trial or other evolutionary topics, he often finds there is little meaningful grasp of the theory of evolution on the part of supporters or detractors.

"It would quickly become apparent that here's a controversy that splashes out of nowhere, such as in the Scopes trial," Larson said, "or as is happening in Ohio right now, suddenly there is a front-page controversy over this intelligent design issue -- where do these come from? Well, I got interested in going behind the Scopes trial and that led to my book on the work in the Gal·pagos (Evolution's Workshop). I finished that, but then I was beginning to see this huge continuum of history of objections of the sort that are being raised in Ohio today -- and they aren't fundamentally different than the types that were raised in Tennessee in 1925.

"They actually aren't fundamentally different from what have been raised since the very beginning," he continued. "I think a lot of people don't understand what the theory of evolution is, but they also don't understand the objections to the theory of evolution."

While evolution entered the consciousness of the greater public in the 1800s, the concept of intelligent design was also being fostered by figures such as William Paley and Georges Cuvier.

"They would argue that there is 'a design' here, a complexity that can't be explained --those would be arguments against (Charles) Darwin made by (Louis) Agassiz, made by (Richard) Owen," Larson said. Intelligent design "has a long and noble pedigree. You can actually follow intelligent design all the way back to the debates in ancient Greece."

In addition to exploring the history of the gradual development of the theory, Larson also places its development in the context of the social forces that helped shape the theory and --in one particularly dark instance -- a social movement that was informed by one interpretation of the concept of evolution.

Charles Darwin actually saw British imperialism as a kind of metaphor for natural selection.

"Very much so," Larson said. "It's very clear in Descent of Man. There's a subtle interplay. Darwin was a capitalist, very proud of how he greatly increased his inherited wealth by prudent stock investments. He was very proud and involved with British expansion ... he saw the survival of the fittest worldwide. ... His writings were also very much used to defend what Britain was doing."

At the other end of the spectrum was Ernst Haeckel, whose studies of evolutionary theory -- and his eventual creation of a secular philosophy dubbed "monism" which advocated a strong, centralized state -- would become twisted into tools for the emerging National Socialist movement. Haeckel, Larson said, "was certainly a warm advocate of World War I and his Monist League was foundational to the Nazi Party."

Although evolution has been a polarizing topic for centuries -- and continues to be so -- Larson said his goal in Evolution was to report accurately and objectively on the theory and the criticisms lodged against it.

"I'm not a partisan on this issue," Larson said. "There are books out there that are viciously pro-evolution and viciously pro-intelligent design. I'm not a biologist myself, I'm a historian of science. I don't have an oar in this pond, as it were, in the sense that I'm not trying to convince anybody one way or another."

Current polls indicate that 90 percent of adult Americans do not subscribe to "the full Darwinian vision of Evolution." Interestingly, Larson said that similar polls conducted in Europe and elsewhere reveal much different results.

"For at least 40 years, the results have been pretty consistent," Larson said. The number of Americans expressing a belief in a "full Darwinian vision" rarely rises above 9 percent, he said.

"In western Europe, you just don't find a high percentage for the Biblical view," he said. "You go to countries like the Netherlands and Germany and Sweden and you won't find any, literally. If you go to England, France, Italy and Spain -- eastern Europe -- you'll find a big growth in support for what would broadly be called 'theistic evolution.'"

In Islamic countries, he noted, it is actually a capital offense to teach the concept of evolution.

Posted on Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 7:18 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Newsweek: Why Brown Seems a Bust

Ellis Cose, in Newsweek (May 17, 2004):

Sometimes history serves as a magnifying mirror—making momentous what actually was not. But Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas, is the real thing: a Supreme Court decision that fundamentally and forever changed America. It jump-started the modern civil-rights movement and excised a cancer eating a hole in the heart of the Constitution.

So why is the celebration of its 50th anniversary so bittersweet? Why, as we raise our glasses, are there tears in our eyes? The answer is simple: Brown, for all its glory, is something of a bust.

Clearly Brown altered forever the political and social landscape of an in-sufficiently conscience-stricken nation. "Brown led to the sit-ins, the freedom marches ... the Civil Rights Act of 1964 ... If you look at Brown as ... the icebreaker that broke up ... that frozen sea, then you will see it was an unequivocal success," declared Jack Greenberg, former head of the NAACP Legal Defense & Educational Fund Inc. and one of the lawyers who litigated Brown. Still, measured purely by its effects on the poor schoolchildren of color at its center, Brown is a disappointment—in many respects a failure. So this commemoration is muted by the realization that Brown was not nearly enough.

While most white and Hispanic Americans (59 percent for each group) think their community schools are doing a good or excellent job, only 45 percent of blacks feel that way, according to an exclusive NEWSWEEK Poll. That is up considerably from the 31 percent who thought their schools were performing well in 1998, but it means a lot of people are still unhappy with the deck of skills being dealt to black kids.

Only 38 percent of blacks think those schools have the resources necessary to provide a quality education, according to the poll. And African-Americans are not alone in feeling that funding should increase. A majority of the members of all ethnic groups support the notion that schools attended by impoverished minority children ought to have equivalent resources to those attended by affluent whites. Indeed, most Americans go even further. They say schools should be funded at "whatever level it takes to raise minority-student achievement to an acceptable national standard." Sixty-one percent of whites, 81 percent of Hispanics and a whopping 93 percent of blacks agree with that statement—which is to say they agree with the proposition of funding schools at a level never seriously countenanced by the political establishment: a total transformation of public education in the United States....

Posted on Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 7:02 PM | Comments (0) | Top

D-Day Mistakes

Euan Ferguson, in the Guardian (May 9, 2004):

THERE ARE THIMBLES. Lighters. Coasters. Ashtrays. Key-rings, of course. Tea-towels and T-shirts, penknives and paperweights, rucksacks and shoehorns and tankards and teacups: a sourly impressive amount of laminated plasticky tourist dreck, drenched in memorabilia of red, white, blue and gaudy. D-Day, they say; and 6 Juin 1944. Le Debarquement. Welcome To Our Liberators. Normandy Landings. Aux Heroiques!

This, they say, will be the last big anniversary: the last and the grandest. In 10 years' time, most of the old British and American soldiers who regularly take the battlefield tours, who have made friends with each other and with the visiting French and Polish and, from time to time, returning Germans, will be no more. They have already had 60 more years than they expected, that morning. Many now say those few hours have shaped every day of those 60 years. As the day has shaped Normandy herself: from the tourist-traps of Arromanches to the quiet memorials hidden throughout the bocage , the sweetly treacherous hedgerow country where nightmares were born in the days following June 6 1944, there are reminders of one huge established fact: we won.

The Allied victory, begun on that morning on these 50 miles of beaches, was to lead directly to Berlin, the death of Hitler, the collapse of the 1,000-year Reich and the end of the most destructive human conflict in history: and that this happened, that this victory was always destined, seems today as unquestionable as the sea still sweeping in to the beaches of Juno, Sword, Gold, Utah and Omaha.

Except it wasn't. What you won't find, among the memorabilia, are any references to the doubts, or to the mistakes. You won't see reproductions of the note scribbled in pencil by Eisenhower on the morning of the invasion - later found crumpled in his shirt pocket by his aide, Harry Butcher - intended to be read to the press the next day if it all went wrong.

'Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and the troops have been withdrawn,' he wrote, then scored out the last phrase to remove the passive voice, to take responsibility: '. . .and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. . . . If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine.'

You won't find any of the fatigued uncertainty chronicled in Ten Days to D-Day , by David Stafford, one of the better of the great many books being issued and reissued for this 60th anniversary - one shop lists over 150 current titles - in which we learn just how much we take for granted, how much could have gone so wrong.

In the Normandy sunshine last weekend, buses puttered and clogged the lanes. Over 1.5 million people a year now visit the area to view the beaches, the cemeteries, the slow-rotting carcasses of gun emplacements among the sedge and dogwort: a good number are veterans or their extended families but many have no direct link to that day, are simply there to view history and romance. But the most popular monuments are, if you look a little closer, actually testament to the things that went wrong, reminders of quite how flimsy the day's victory was.

The top of the Pointe du Hoc, the jutting rock nose which housed the six pivoting 155mm howitzers the Germans planned to use to cover both 'American' beaches, is still pocked with craters, and swarmed by tourists. They come here to remember the staggering bravery of the US 2nd Ranger Battalion, 200 of them under Lt Col James Rudder, who climbed the nine-storey rock from the sea with bayonets and grappling-hooks, while grenades rained down, and took the placements. What is often forgotten is that, due to a complete failure of intelligence, no one on the Allied side knew the guns had been moved a mile back and hidden in an orchard: the Rangers captured nothing more than telegraph poles swathed in cloth camouflage. It took them two days to be relieved; casualties were by then over 60 per cent.

Buses limp, too, through the little town of Ste Mere Eglise, where the shops, too, are always full of victory, of certainty: but this town was in fact a disaster, Allied paratroopers dropping right into the middle of the guns in the main square; a parachute and mannequin still dangle from the church tower, testament to the luck of John Steel of the 82nd's 505 Parachute Infantry, who feigned death after being caught there; he survived, but watched many comrades die below. And many memorial services now focus on Easy Green, on the shore near the beautiful American cemetery above: the peace, and the sunshine, belie the fact that Easy Green was the site of near-unending carnage on that day.

'Even the weather, of course, was deeply unreliable,' says military historian Max Hastings. 'It wouldn't have needed to have been much worse to have changed an awful lot. On paper, certainly, the odds were with the Allies, simply numerically: we had more tanks, more ships, more aircraft. But the Germans were always an unknown quantity: Churchill in particular had been deeply shocked by losses, where we should have won. And the other terrifying thing, in hindsight, is simply how much there was at stake. It is impossible to exaggerate how much of a blow defeat would have brought to the grand alliance.'

Had Eisenhower had even greater foresight, as we have hindsight, it's generally agreed he would have done some things differently. New tactics would surely have been brought to Omaha beach, defended not, as most of the others were, by dispirited ex-Eastern Front Germans and prisoners of war, 'striplings and greybeards', but by 12,000 silently redeployed and battle-hardened men of the 352nd Division. Less reliance would have been placed on the amphibious tanks, 90 per cent of which sank as soon as they hit the water. Transfers to landing craft would have occurred closer to shore, reducing fatal errors of pilotage. Had he been in a biblical frame of mind, he may even have borne in mind the numerological warnings in Revelations, and thought twice before launching the most ambitious amphibious assault in history on, precisely, the sixth hour of the sixth day of the sixth month...

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Posted on Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 6:18 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Charles Sumner Made the Case Against Segregated Schools a Century Before Brown

Suzanne Sataline, in the Boston Globe (May 9, 2004)

In a footnote in the Brown v. Board of Education decision, the Supreme Court reported that the "separate but equal" doctrine it was overturning in public education "apparently originated" in an 1849 ruling by the Supreme Judicial Court in a Massachusetts case, Roberts v. City of Boston.

"For Boston, it was the first attempt to integrate the schools," said Thomas O'Connor, a historian and professor emeritus of Boston College. "These people actually made a case that racial segregation was wrong."

Benjamin F. Roberts, a black man, attempted to enroll his 5-year-old daughter, Sarah, in a primary school for whites. The school denied her application, as did the School Committee. Roberts refused to place her in one of the two black schools, saying there were several schools for whites closer to the family's home near the current site of the O'Neill Federal Building downtown. He sought help from the Court of Common Pleas, which sided with the city, before appealing to the SJC.

Charles Sumner, a Harvard-trained lawyer who was soon to become a US senator, argued for Roberts before the SJC that the School Committee did not have the power to discriminate. Barring black students, he argued, was "in the nature of caste, and is a violation of equality. . . . The committee cannot assume, without individual examination, that an entire race possess certain moral or intellectual qualities, which render it proper to place them all in a class by themselves."

Sumner also challenged the notion that separate could be equal, saying that "although the matters taught in the two schools may be precisely the same, a school exclusively devoted to one class must differ essentially, in its spirit and character, from that public school known to the law, where all classes meet together in equality."

But the justices were loath to trample local powers. They deferred to the conclusion of the superintendent and school committee that "the good of both classes of schools will be best promoted, by maintaining the separate primary schools for colored and for white children."

The Legislature unraveled the decision in 1855, outlawing school segregation in the state.

In 1896, the US Supreme Court enshrined the "separate but equal" doctrine as the law of the land in Plessy v. Ferguson. That stood until the Brown decision in 1954.

Posted on Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 5:59 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Troy: Truth and Fiction

Bill Eichenberger, in the Columbus Dispatch (May 9, 2004:

Let's get one thing straight: The Trojan horse is not mentioned in The Iliad and only alluded to in The Odyssey.

In fact, the bulk of the Trojan War -- which lasted 10 years -- isn't covered in Homer's epic poems.

Whether someone named Homer even wrote The Iliad and The Odyssey is open to debate.

So, in the upcoming film Troy, the words "based on" in reference to The Iliad are suspect.

"Loosely based on" or "barely based on" would be more fitting. (Homer does get a "writing credit," with the screenplay attributed to David Benioff.)

In any case, the movie -- classic or bomb? -- provides a good excuse to revisit Homer, The Iliad and The Odyssey, the Trojan War and Greek mythology.

The war took place, if it took place, roughly in 1250 B.C., half a century before Homer wrote The Iliad -- if he wrote it.

The Penguin Classics edition of The Iliad begins with a disclaimer: "The Greeks believed that The Iliad was composed by Homer. In our ignorance of the man, his life and his work, we are free to believe it or not. Received opinion dates him c. 700 B.C. and places him in Ionia."

The war was fought, according to Greek mythology, for the love of Helen, the world's most beautiful woman -- who was abducted by Paris of Troy from Menelaus, king of Sparta. (Whether Helen went willingly also is disputed.)

Agamemnon led the Greek forces; and Hector, the Trojan troops. Among the most famous warriors: Achilles and Odysseus.

The independent kings of Greece joined with Agamemnon and Menelaus and sailed to Troy, which they besieged. The war was eventually won by the Greeks, who sacked the city.

Historians have a more prosaic explanation for what caused the war: control of the Hellespont and trade in the region.

Which raises more questions: Did the city of Troy exist? Did a war occur?

The first excavator who searched for Troy -- thought to have been situated at the western entrance to the Hellespont in what has become northern Turkey -- was eccentric German businessman Heinrich Schliemann. He was followed by Wilhelm Dorpfeld, then Carl Blegen.

The three dug at the presumed site of Troy between 1870 and 1938.

Schliemann was so certain he had discovered Troy that he once exclaimed of a gold mask uncovered at the site, "I have gazed on the face of Agamemnon!"

According to the authors of The Lost World of the Aegean, "Scholars now agree that Homer's Iliad deals with real events, but, because it was handed down through generations of bards, the facts have been badly garbled and romanticized."

Whether Troy existed is the wrong question, said Bruce Heiden, an associate professor of Greek and Latin at Ohio State University.

"There may have been a real city called Troy," he said, "but, if so, its relationship to the Troy of The Iliad was something like the relationship between the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris and the cartoon cathedral in Disney's Hunchback.

"The Iliad is a story about the past, but it's certainly not a believable story about the past in the sense that a historian would find it believable. Only a fool would go to Notre Dame and ask to see the bells that Quasimodo rang."

Would he describe the Schliemann search as quixotic?

"Quixotic isn't the right word," Heiden said. "Don Quixote looked at a real windmill and imagined adventures. But Schliemann took a fabulous story and imagined it was something you could find. He reduced the mythical to the parameters of the natural.

"Imagine if Schliemann had gone searching for Mount Olympus instead. You'd have said he was crazy."

Roman historian Herodotus also was skeptical of the Trojan War stories.

He insisted, for instance, that Helen (the "face that launched a thousand ships," according to Christopher Marlowe) couldn't have caused the conflict.

For starters, the Egyptians claimed they had banished Paris after demanding that he relinquish everything he had stolen from Sparta -- including his beautiful abductee.

Had "Helen been in Troy," Herodotus concluded, "she would certainly have been surrendered to the Greeks whether Paris liked it or not."

Isn't that just like a historian? Trying to make the impractical seem practical, he takes all the magic and majesty out of one of the greatest works of Western civilization.

"The Iliad and The Odyssey," Heiden said, "are mythical poems, absolutely fascinating and profound poems."

What about that horse?

"If you only read The Iliad," he said, "you'd never know there was a Trojan horse."

Some critics view the horse as a metaphor for earthquake damage, said Joseph Tebben, a professor of Greek and Latin on the Newark Campus of Ohio State University.

Poseidon, god of the sea and creator of horses, watched the war from a mountain, according to Homer.

"Those two images, of a violent cataclysm and of horses," Tebben sai

Posted on Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 5:59 PM | Comments (3) | Top

Thomas Sowell: We Are Still Paying the Price for the Faulty Reasoning in Brown

Thomas Sowell, in the WSJ (May 13, 2004):

In all the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Supreme Court's historic decision in Brown v. Board of Education, there has been remarkably little critical examination of the reasoning used in that decision. Indeed, much of what has been said about that decision over the past half-century has treated the result as paramount and the reasoning as incidental. But today, with 50 years of experience behind us, it is painfully clear that the educational results of Brown have been meager for black children. Meanwhile, the kind of reasoning used in Brown has had serious negative repercussions on our whole legal system, extending far beyond issues of race or education.

While Brown in effect overruled the 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson Supreme Court decision that racially "separate but equal" facilities were constitutionally acceptable, it avoided saying that Plessy was simply a wrong interpretation of the Constitution -- that is, wrong in 1896 as well as wrong in 1954. Instead it relied on "modern" psychological knowledge, not available to the Court in 1896, to show how separate could no longer be considered equal.

This approach finessed the whole question of why the Warren court's reading of the Constitution was superior to that of the 1896 Supreme Court, rather than simply reflecting a different social preference. Such a question would undoubtedly have stiffened the resistance to the Brown decision, which was stiff enough as it was in those states where racial segregation existed.

Chief Justice Earl Warren said that racially separate schools "are inherently unequal," even when they were provided with the same tangible resources. To separate black children "from others of similar age and qualifications solely because of their race generates a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely ever to be undone."

Inspiring as such rhetoric may seem, it establishes no fact, nor even a probability. I happen to have been one of those black children who went to a segregated school in the South. The fact that there were no white kids in our school was something that no one I knew ever expressed any concern over, or even noticed. There were no white kids in our neighborhood or anywhere we went. Why would we be struck by the fact that there were no white kids in our schools -- much less be so preoccupied with that fact as to interfere with our learning the three R's?

Posted on Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 3:54 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Christopher R. Waldrep: Why It Matters How Many People Murdered Emmett Till

Christopher R. Waldrep, a professor of history and the Jamie and Phyllis Pasker Endowed Chair in history at San Francisco State University, in the San Francisco Chronicle (May 13, 2004):

The Justice Department announced this week that it intends to work with Mississippi authorities in re-investigating the murder of Emmett Till, hoping to identify suspects other than the two who were identified in 1955 and who have since died. One can hope that if any of Till's killers still walk free, they can at long last be brought to justice.

A few elderly individuals involved in a murder committed nearly half a century ago in an obscure part of rural Mississippi would hardly attract the FBI's attention in these perilous times if the crime had not achieved great symbolic and historical importance. It matters a great deal to us how many people killed Emmett Till.

Not long after their acquittal by an all-white Mississippi jury, journalist William Bradford Huie paid Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam for their story. Bryant and Milam recounted how they drove Milam's new pickup to Moses Wright's house around 2 a.m. on Sunday, Aug. 28, 1955. Milam and Bryant told Huie that they alone went into Wright's home and abducted young Till and killed him.

Unlike most earlier killings of blacks by white racists, numbering in the thousands, the murder of Emmett Till attracted journalists from around the world. Till's death became one of the most famous lynchings in American history. This story of an innocent boy, killed by white thugs after the Brown vs. Board of Education ruling, outraged America and spurred the drive for civil rights. Just three months after the trial, the Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott began.

The problem is that the facts Huie published do not correlate with any known definition of the word "lynching." This is why the Huie story, focused on just two killers, seems so unsatisfactory. Nineteenth-century newspapers excused mob killings if they had community support. Journalists explained that a horrendous crime, occurring when the courts functioned badly or not at all, could drive a neighborhood wild, making mob violence inevitable and understandable. When journalists first began applying the word "lynching" to mob killings of African Americans, white newspaper editors so completely understood lynching as carried out by the community that they insisted that African Americans actually joined mobs themselves. One thing seemed clear: to be called a "lynching" by the press, a killing had to have community approval.

In the 20th century, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People found it had to define lynching as it lobbied Congress to pass a law against such mobbing. In 1921, the NAACP proposed setting the size of the mob at no fewer than five. By the 1930s, three seemed a better number. On Dec. 11, 1940, when the NAACP met with other lynching opponents, those attending agreed that for a killing to qualify as a lynching, the killers had to act under pretext of service to justice, their race or tradition.

In his interview with Huie, Milam did his best to meet the requirement of service to justice, race or tradition. In what now seems a sickening spectacle, Milam pleaded with white people through Huie, claiming he had killed Till, "just so everybody can know how me and my folks stand" against agitation for civil rights.

But the historical image of a lynching as a spectacle, not merely sanctioned by the larger community but actually carried out by a large group, is so set in our culture that if only two people killed Till, it might almost seem that he does not deserve his martyr status. Or so the continued insistence that there must be more suspects would imply.

Given the long history of lynching as a word, for the killing of Emmett Till to properly stand as a symbol for all racial violence, Mississippi white people had to have acted in numbers greater than two. That is the meaning of lynching. Traveling back 49 years to construct a murder case will be like passing through a frustrating hall of mirrors, one populated with dead and lying witnesses. Yet we are driven to the journey by the history of lynching, its meaning and the symbolic importance Emmett Till has assumed in the American historical imagination.

Posted on Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 1:16 PM | Comments (1) | Top

Is There Such a Thing as Hindu Fundamentalism?

Martin E. Marty, in his weekly newsletter, Sightings (May 10, 2004):

On December 27, 1986 Arthur Hertzberg, Yvonne Haddad, and I were asked by the American Historical Association (AHA) to lead a plenary session on militant fundamentalisms in Judaism, Islam, and Christianity.  That was the first time I dealt with the subject.  Later, a six-year study for the American Academy of Arts and Sciences would prepare me for a topic that remains too relevant, even urgent, today.

The AHA asked my colleague Wendy Doniger to respond to all three, from the viewpoint of a scholar of Hinduism.  Could Hinduism even have fundamentalisms, she asked.  As she explored and observed how leaders of radical Hindu movements handled sacred texts, she changed her mind, and commented wisely.

Now she and her students and friends in America, India, and around the globe are seeing militant Hinduism up close.  Shuttling as I did between Chicago and Emory this year (18 commutes to date), I had occasion to track one of these "up-close" stories, that of Paul Courtright. 

Courtright's scholarly book,
Ganesa: Lord of Obstacles, Lord of Beginnings, went unnoticed except in specialized academic circles since it was published in 1985.  Then some militants were stirred to be critical of it, rejecting the psychoanalytic elements in Courtright's analysis of a Hindu god with the head of an elephant.  While a few are themselves scholars, most of the roused attackers lack context and understanding.  Courtright and other experts have had death threats, while others know that persecution or exclusion from India could await them.

Doniger has not escaped completely.  She had to duck an egg thrown by a militant Hindu as she lectured in London.  In the world of these scholars, writing about gods from some scholarly distance is a century old practice.  As for the psychoanalytic aspects in
Ganesa, Freudians and post-Freudians have had their rounds with Moses, Paul, Christians, and Jews through the ages, without having to duck eggs, harassment, or death threats.

What is going on?  So far as I can tell, we have here an international instance of hyper-multiculturalism, an approach to learning now being moderated in America.  Its original proponents held that only those who were "of" a people, whose ancestors shared an experience, etc., could teach and write about them and it.  In their prime, multiculturalist expressions blighted tenure decisions, led to negative reviews, and probably harmed some careers.  Today we are learning again that, while heirs of a tradition have a special claim on stories and interpretations, at least at certain stages, good stories are too good to be hoarded by those who claim insider-status.  All great literature, canonical or not, is born of particular experiences, and if it
is great, it gets shared.

That was happening with Hindu mythology, but for the moment the eggs and threats fly and the barriers are up.  This can wreak havoc in religious studies and interfaith understanding, and one can only hope that light will spread and cooler heads will prevail.  Doniger says it is all being "fueled by a fanatical nationalism and Hindutva," where "no one who is not a Hindu has the right to speak about Hinduism at all." 

"Wendy," down the hall from me for many years, had and has a love affair with India and Hinduism.  She, Courtright, and others should outlast the militants.  Otherwise Hindu scholarship will suffer for decades to come.  If this happens, some of the best public relations agents for the religions of India will be under a cloud and it will be a bit darker for all of us -- including those who attack scholars who do not have the right blood line or geographical context.

Posted on Wednesday, May 12, 2004 at 6:38 PM | Comments (1) | Top

Why is Clark -- of Lewis & Clark -- Neglected?

Landon Y. Jones, in the Chronicle of Higher Education (subscribers) (May 10, 2004):

My friend Bud Clark is a direct descendant of William Clark, the explorer. During the current bicentennial of the Lewis and Clark expedition -- May 14 is the 200th anniversary of the departure of the explorers up the Missouri River -- Bud has been enacting the part of his famous ancestor. Not long ago he was at a public event, resplendently dressed in his period military uniform, when two little girls approached him. "Are you Clark?" one of them asked. "Yes, indeed I am," Bud proudly replied. The little girl fixed him with a cold eye. "You are a mean man," she said. "Why did you beat York?"

Good question. Thomas Jefferson is not the only founder whose reputation has recently been challenged over slavery. Many Americans today are uncomfortable with the attitudes and behavior of the most significant figures in our early history. In the case of William Clark, however, the issue has been not only whether he beat his African-American personal slave, York, but whether we would ever hear his entire life story at all.

Before I became a biographer, I spent most of the decade of the 1990s committing celebrity journalism as the editor of People magazine. During that time I got used to the idea that the reputations of contemporary people could rise and fall in a twinkling, like mayflies. When I began to think about a life of William Clark, I expected to find that the natural sifting processes of time and memory had stabilized his reputation. Instead I learned that the ways we have -- and have not -- remembered Clark tell us about what we expect from the life of a hero.

Over the years there have been scores of books published on the Lewis and Clark expedition. They include many biographies of its best-known members, ranging from the co-captain, Meriwether Lewis, to the future mountain man John Colter. More recently, modern biographers have turned to Sacagawea and York to draw our attention to a multiethnic Corps of Discovery. There has even been a floodlet of children's books about Seaman, the expedition's dog.

But, oddly, in the middle of these frontier sagas, there has been no full-length biography of Clark himself. It is a striking omission. Unlike Lewis, whose life ended in suicide just three years after he returned from the Pacific, Clark not only had an active military career before the expedition -- his older brother was the Revolutionary War hero George Rogers Clark -- but also went on to serve for 30 years as governor of Missouri Territory, militia general during the War of 1812, and superintendent of Indians at St. Louis.

Why has Clark's story not been told, at least until now? (In addition to my book, another biography will be published this spring, by the historian William E. Foley.)

A primary reason for Clark's neglect is that he was initially overshadowed by Lewis in the partnership universally known by a single fused word: "Lewisandclark." For historians preoccupied with history made by Great Men, the entry points to the Louisiana Purchase and the Voyage of Discovery were limited to two Virginia planters: Thomas Jefferson and his private secretary, Meriwether Lewis.

If the Lewis and Clark expedition is an American Odyssey, there is not room for two Odysseuses. The universal hero of the "monomyth" described by Joseph Campbell in The Hero With a Thousand Faces (1949) endures his travails alone. If there is a partner, as other well-known sidekicks like Sancho Panza and Dr. Watson could well testify, we often celebrate one partner at the expense of the other....

Posted on Monday, May 10, 2004 at 4:56 PM | Comments (0) | Top

The "Boche Bastards" Are Haunting France

Charles Bremner, in the London Times (May 5, 2004):

A new book has exposed the shameful abuse of the 'Boche bastards', Charles Bremner in Paris writes.

ALMOST six decades after liberation from the Nazis, France is being confronted with a shameful and neglected legacy of the war: the cruel treatment of about 200,000 French children who were fathered by German soldiers.

Accounts by 15 of the so-called "Boche bastards", published this week, have shed light for the first time on the extent to which liberated France not only punished women who consorted with the enemy but also inflicted lifetime punishment on their illegitimate children.

"This anti-child racism, which was carried out...thousands of times in France in the ten to fifteen years after the war remains a grave and indelible wrong for the history of our country," Jean-Paul Picaper, who gathered the accounts in a book, said.

Harrowing tales of abandonment, orphanages, suicide attempts and general cruelty pour from the pages of Enfants Maudits (Blighted Children), which Picaper wrote with Ludwig Norz, an official at the German military archives.

Daniel Rouxel, born in 1943 of his mother's affair with a handsome young Wehrmacht officer, describes how his grandmother kept him locked every night in a hen coop in a postwar Breton village. A council official had summoned the inhabitants to the church to tell them that they had a "baby Boche" in their midst. "I needed to love and everyone refused me love. One suffered horribly," he says.

Norbert, who was born in 1944 and withholds his surname, says that he still trembles and stutters when he tells people "my father was a German soldier".

A common theme emerges from the accounts: the search by the war children -now aged between 59 and 63 -to trace their fathers and the obstruction that many met.

Some managed to make contact with their German families, but many others were rejected by relatives who feared financial demands and wanted to forget the war.

Henriette, who was born in the Somme to a mother who later was convicted of collaboration offences, describes how, as a lonely schoolgirl, she would seek out groups of German tourists and say to them: "Deutsch? Mein Vater ist Deutsch."

While France began coming to terms in the 1970s with the scale of its collaboration with the occupying Germans, until now it has refused to acknow ledge the suffering inflicted on the war babies and their descendants, who now number about a million. "Our country has stayed silent on the subject, indifferent to them, neglecting a problem that politicians, historians, educators and psychologists should have dealt with," Picaper, who served as Berlin correspondent for Le Figaro for 26 years, said.

The war children were mainly not the product of rape or prostitution but of affairs between les petites francaises and young Germans who were often accepted into French families in the early, gentler, years of the occupation.

There was no deliberate French policy of ostracising the war babies. They were simply stigmatised by both sides. The Germans banned their personnel from liaisons with French women, who were considered an inferior race. By contrast, children of the Scandinavian and Dutch occupation were deemed Aryan and cared for by the Germans....

Posted on Friday, May 7, 2004 at 8:28 PM | Comments (1) | Top

Washington DC Is Running Out of Room for Memorials and Monuments

Steven Knipp, in the South China Morning Post (May 6, 2004):

All nations are proud of their triumphs. But few countries have both the space and the money to build so many monuments to their leaders, and their accomplishments, as do the Americans. From the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbour, to Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota, the American landscape is awash with monuments and memorials, statues and shrines, to the great and the good.

But nowhere has this habit become more ingrained than in Washington. On May 29, Memorial Day, America's newest shine will be officially unveiled. Built over three years by 500 workers at a cost of US$ 175 million, the circular tribute in stone known as the World War II Memorial is situated on the city's 6km-long National Mall - midway between the towering Washington Monument and the majestic Lincoln Memorial.

Washington's latest memorial honours the 16 million Americans who served in the second world war, including the 400,000 who died on the battlefields of Europe and Asia. While few Americans question the appropriateness of this memorial, or its elegance (the design was selected from among 400 entries), its location in the heart of the Mall was harshly criticised by urban planners for disrupting the Mall's large open space, which has historically been used for political gatherings, such as the 250,000 people who listened to Martin Luther King's 1963 "I Have a Dream" speech. For that reason, the memorial's original size was scaled back.

But even American historians are now saying enough is enough. They fear that one of the world's most beautiful capitals will soon begin to look like a cluttered national cellar.

Just 100 metres from the new memorial is the Korean War Memorial. And opposite that is the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial. Designed by Chinese-American Maya Lin, The Wall (as it's known today) is the single most visited site in Washington. But at its 1982 dedication many felt its design was too abstract. So, two years later, additional funds were raised to erect a traditional bronze battlefield statue known as the Three Servicemen.

Within a decade, though, still more demands were made, this time for a Vietnam Women's Memorial, honouring nurses who served in Saigon. Thus, today there are three memorials - all dedicated to the same war, all within 50 metres of each other.

Set slightly back from the Mall is the sprawling FDR Memorial. Erected in 1997 (despite an explicit request from president Franklin Delano Roosevelt that none be built for him), this shrine boasts not one statue but four - two of the president, one of his wife, and one of his beloved dog, Fala. The president's second statue, showing Roosevelt in his wheelchair, was added when disabled Americans protested that the first statue hid from view the fact that the president had been disabled by polio.

Off the south end of the Mall is the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial, dedicated by president George Bush Snr. Inscribed on its walls are the names of nearly 17,000 police officers killed since 1792, including those who died in car accidents. Each May, hundreds more names are added.

But it's not just the National Mall that's getting cramped. Elsewhere in the marble-mobbed metropolis are scores of bronze horsemen honouring forgotten civil war figures. There are stone figures, too, honouring senators, governors, and labour leaders. There are memorials to the Japanese-Americans illegally imprisoned during the second world war. There are statues of Christopher Columbus and of the Boy Scouts, and Moses and yes, Confucius.

On the grounds of the National Academy of Science sits the black granite figure of German-born, naturalised American Albert Einstein. On Constitution Avenue stands a statue of Nathan Hale: the revolutionary war patriot, whom the British hung as a spy, looks like he's directing traffic.

Many of the marble works wedged into Washington aren't even remotely related to America. Opposite the Indian embassy we find a bespectacled statue of Mahatma Gandhi, complete with walking cane. On the grounds of George Washington University stands Russia's poet Alexander Pushkin. In Washington's small riverside boat basin a sculpture of an angel, his arms outstretched to heaven, venerates those lost on the Titanic. Near the White House stands a 10 -metre-high statue of Simon Bolivar, founder of Bolivia, the third-largest supplier of cocaine to America.

On Florida Avenue we find Joan of Arc, Washington's only equestrian statue with a female rider. On Massachusetts Avenue stands a stony Martin Luther, the leader of the Reformation - which took place three centuries before America existed.

The interior of Washington's enormous Union Station is guarded by dozens of Roman centurions. They were commissioned in 1907. But when the statues were set in place high over the rail station's main hall, the city's Fine Arts Commission were nail-bitingly distraught to discover the boys from Rome were buck naked below their tunics - historically accurate, yes, but not acceptable to turn-of-the-century Washingtonians. Carefully placed shields were subsequently added, lending privacy from prying upward-looking eyes.

Alas, Washington's near-mania for memorials is not restricted to only the great and the good, nor just the notable and noble. All too often, the merely ordinary and sometimes even the absurd are flattered in marble and metal.

In Indiana Plaza stands the Cogswell Temperance Fountain, named after Henry D. Cogswell, an eccentric San Francisco dentist who made a fortune from mining stocks in the 1880s. In trendy Dupont Circle there's a plaque honouring Sonny Bono, of the 1960s pop duo Sonny & Cher, who died not on the battlefield but in a freak skiing accident.

The decision to allow monuments, where to place them, and how large to make them, is not decided willy-nilly. An organisation called the National Capital Planning Commission is tasked with the specific job of "protecting and preserving the integrity of the Mall", in the words of its chairman, John Cogbill III.

The trouble is, every time a new group asks to put up a monument to some one or some event, political pressure is brought to bear, and exceptions are made. Thus, the US Air Force is demanding a memorial of its own, because the Army, Navy and Marine Corps all have theirs. The Pentagon wants its own memorial for September 11. And America's disabled veterans are seeking final approval for a US$ 60 million memorial of their own.

What about the Native Americans, you ask? They have an entire new museum of their own, which opens in a matter of months - yes, on the Mall.

But how much longer before the Eskimos elbow their way into Washington? And maybe, just maybe, there's enough room to shoe-horn in something nice ... for the Hawaiians? No doubt, somewhere in Honolulu, an acclaimed architect is already sketching his design for a giant stone surfboard, to be mounted on an immense bronze wave.

But at this rate, the only space left in Washington to place such a design will be across Abraham Lincoln's lap.

Posted on Friday, May 7, 2004 at 8:19 PM | Comments (0) | Top

The Atlantic Falls for a Faux Kennedy Conspiracy Number

The case of the assassination of John F. Kennedy is complicated, and it is unwise to go gaga over every bit of new information, taken in isolation. That is what the History Channel did in its reckless and now withdrawn feature accusing Lyndon Johnson of having authored the plot. And it is unfortunately also what Max Holland does in the Atlantic's June issue in reporting on the release of Johnson's 1967 telephone conversations related to the killing.

Holland focuses on a conversation held March 2, 1967, in which Texas Gov. John Connally alerted Johnson to information supposedly coming from the investigation then underway in New Orleans by district attorney Jim Garrison. Connally relates the claim "that Garrison has information that would prove that there were four assassination [teams] ... assassins in the United States, sent here by [Fidel] Castro, or Castro's people. [Sent] not by Castro himself, but by one of his lieutenants ... One of the teams was composed of Lee Harvey Oswald, this fella [Clay Shaw] that has just been arrested in New Orleans yesterday, and the [deceased] man [David] Ferrie, plus one other man. They were teams of four. And there were two other teams I know nothing about." What does Holland make of this? He begins with a kernel of truth: Castro surely had learned of CIA plots to assassinate him and overthrow his government. As Holland writes, these efforts began under President Eisenhower and continued into 1963 (when, as Holland does not relate, the Justice Department under Robert F. Kennedy made an effort to shut some of them down). Second, Holland ties Bobby Kennedy into the Castro assassination plots, as others have done, in one of the most curious passages in his article: "It is not known whether Johnson asked [Richard] Helms under whose direction the CIA had acted. If he did, Helms presumably said that Robert Kennedy 'personally managed the operation on the assassination of Castro.' (This is taken from what Helms told Secretary of State Henry Kissinger in 1975, after allegations of CIA wrongdoing began to surface in the press.) Then again, Johnson may not have bothered to ask. Edward Morgan had already told Drew Pearson about the former Attorney General's central role; it was common knowledge within the administration."

In this passage, conjecture is piled on conjecture. The effect is to bring forward a statement made by Helms in 1975, when Bobby Kennedy had been safely dead for seven years, to 1967, when he was still alive. If Helms had made such a claim in 1967, of course, LBJ could presumably have called Kennedy for his side of the story....

In trying to explain Johnson's motives for covering up a Castro plot, Holland evokes Johnson's loyalty to President Kennedy. He writes, "If the CIA's attempts to assassinate Castro had been known more or less contemporaneously with JFK's assassination, the Kennedy mystique would have been punctured." And so Johnson fell on his sword in 1968 partly to protect Bobby from questions about his activities that might have cast aspersions on his dead brother -- questions that in Johnson's conspiratorial mind had led to a revenge killing by a communist leader, who for unstated reasons Johnson also wanted to protect. And this even after Bobby's desertion from Johnson's cause? Even when Johnson might have found ways -- as he surely knew how to do -- to raise those questions while disguising his own role as their source?

The reasoning is tortured. It implies, among other things, that JFK may have been morally responsible for his own death -- or at least that his successor thought so. The tale is implausible. And it rests entirely on a chain of surmises. There is, in fact, no evidence for it at all.

It is extremely curious that the standards of history and evidence relating to the Kennedy assassination have sunk to the point where the History Channel can broadcast a scurrilous documentary implicating Johnson, while the Atlantic chooses to publish an account that leaves, at the very least, the heavy hint that Castro was involved.

Meanwhile, the many books that point to elements within the Mafia, the military and the CIA -- as indeed the conclusions of Cuban state security do -- remain beyond the pale. Strangely, they are not subject to review in the culture's polite journals. They are taboo. So far as Max Holland and the Atlantic are concerned, they do not appear to exist.

If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd say that was a sign of a troubled conscience.

Posted on Friday, May 7, 2004 at 6:13 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Mexican-Americans Seek Their Place in History

Diane Smith, in the Star-Telegram (May 5, 2004):

Henry Martinez trudged up a slope to his ancestors' resting place, balancing himself with a cane as he carried a Braum's paper bag filled with his family's history.

This place -- El Camposanto de Cemento Grande de la Compania Trinity Portland, or the Trinity Portland Cement Plant Cemetery, in west Dallas -- is his passion. The tiny park has about 200 graves, including those of his mother, sister and two brothers -- one of whom was a World War II soldier.

"It's sacred ground," said Martinez, 75. He removed photographs and documents from the bag and told stories about relatives who immigrated to Texas from Guanajuato during the Mexican Revolution.

"I just couldn't help but try and preserve the cemetery," he said.

Filling in the missing chapters of the Mexican-American experience is a race against time as waves of immigrants from the early 1900s age. Many projects rely on oral histories. Some, like Martinez's cemetery care, are small gestures, while others are sophisticated, such as a new series by the University of North Texas Press that aims to document Mexican-American history and culture.

Such efforts take on particular poignancy during Hispanic holidays such as today's Cinco de Mayo. But they are lifelong projects for those who believe that Mexican-American history isn't fully explored in textbooks.

"It's very important to have a sense of heritage," said Ivette Ray, a graduate student in the University of North Texas' applied history program.

Unraveling history

Mexican immigrants have left an imprint on North Texas even as new waves move here, historians say. Their past hasn't been fully explored: A historical account of Fort Worth's Mexican families wasn't published until last year.

Stories from the Barrio: A History of Mexican Fort Worth by Carlos Cuellar documents Mexican families in the city. The work was published by Texas Christian University Press.

"When you go to the Stockyards, the Mexican presence is all around you. They didn't just appear overnight," said Ray, who is studying Fort Worth's Hispanic community.

Ray is also interested in studying the Mexican-American civil rights movement. She said she recently hit the historical jackpot when she found documents in Austin referring to the work of the Fort Worth Mexican American Youth Organization -- a group that sought equality in the schools during the 1970s.

But unraveling some aspects of Mexican-American history is like trying to solve a mystery without enough clues. Artifacts, letters, photographs, government documents, pay stubs and even poll-tax receipts help illustrate the past. Details may be locked away in a trunk. Or they may be as simple as a grandmother's quilt.

Some old-timers with key details may not know whom to share them with, Ray said.

"All that is history. It's not just the family's treasure; it's the community's treasure," she said.

Posted on Friday, May 7, 2004 at 5:49 PM | Comments (1) | Top

Jefferson Lecture: Harvard Poet Says History Is Not Essential to a Liberal Education

Kelly Field, in the Chronicle of Higher Education (May 7, 2004):

A humanities education should focus on language, literature, and the arts, not on history and philosophy, said the Harvard University professor Helen Vendler, who delivered the annual Jefferson Lecture in the Humanities on Thursday night.

"The arts are too profound and too far-reaching to be left out of our children's patrimony," said Ms. Vendler, according to an advance copy of her remarks. "The arts have a right, within our schools, to be as serious an object of study as molecular biology or mathematics." The Jefferson Lecture is the highest honor the National Endowment for the Humanities awards a scholar. Recipients are given a $10,000 prize as well as a rare, high-profile forum in which to speak on any topic they choose.

In her speech, Ms. Vendler, a prolific poetry critic, argued that the arts teach students more about humanity and their national heritage than either philosophy or history, offering them a truer portrayal of "the way we are and were, the way we actually live and have lived."

The arts, like geography and history, "confer a patina on the natural world," Ms. Vendler added. They lend significance to a field in Gettysburg or a rustic bridge in Lexington, sensitizing us to our surroundings.

Without art, she said, we would be like the sleepwalkers of Wallace Stevens's 1943 poem "Somnambulisma," wandering through our lives "like automata, unconscious of the very life we were living." Ms. Vendler used images from the poem in the title of her speech, "The Ocean, the Bird, and the Scholar."

American schools, she concluded, will produce more well-rounded students once they teach an equal balance of science and art.

Posted on Friday, May 7, 2004 at 4:27 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Kansas: Every 50 Years, It Makes History

Matthew Polly, in Slate (May 6, 2004):

This is the year of anniversaries for Kansas and Topeka. Fifty years ago, the Supreme Court's decision in Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka began the end of legal segregation. One hundred and fifty years ago, the Kansas Territory was established, and Topeka became the free-state capital battling against pro-slavery LeCompton. Two hundred years ago, Lewis and Clark made their way through the area. And this year, 50 years after Brown, a bizarre special election put in place Topeka's first black mayor, James McClinton. It is these kind of coincidences that help explain Kansans' faith, patience, and humility. God seems to have a plan for us but, being a busy deity, can only pencil us in at half-century intervals.

While there are few intellectual activities dodgier than trying to intuit the divine hand in human history, just consider this for a moment: At the two most crucial junctures in the fight for racial equality, the abolition of slavery and the end of Jim Crow, Kansas served as the first battleground—the Kansas-Nebraska Act in 1854 and Brown in 1954. The current exhibit at the Kansas Museum of History, "Willing to Die for Freedom," is a great refresher on the fight for freedom during Kansas' earliest days.

Still considered a flyover state by coastal elites, Kansas began as a rest stop for weary Easterners dreaming of Western gold. As anyone who has driven across Kansas knows, it takes something out of you, and that's at 70 mph. (I've met many Easterners who get a haunted look in their eyes when I mention I'm from Kansas.) The 90,000 gold-rushing "forty-niners" were driving covered wagons along the Oregon Trail across the Kansas plains. Wherever they stopped (usually at river crossings), a settlement sprang up to serve them: Topeka began along a bend in the Kaw River. The problem was, until Congress recognized Kansas as a territory, all these settlements were illegal.

The problem for Congress was maintaining the balance between free and slave states in order to preserve the Union. Because the Missouri Compromise of 1820, which had settled the issue for a generation, set the northern boundary for future slave states at Missouri's southern border, both Kansas and Nebraska would have had to be admitted as free states. The new compromise Congress reached, the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, pushed the issue back to the citizens of each territory, making them decide whether to be free or slave. The assumption was that Nebraska, a northern state, would vote free, but Kansas, just west of slave Missouri, would go slave, thus preserving the balance.

As we're rediscovering in Iraq, it's best not to make any assumptions when pushing democracy on a people who are unready for it. The fate of the nation rested on what Kansans decided, and so outside forces converged, like in Iraq, to help swing the issue. The fight that ensued earned the territory the nickname "Bleeding Kansas." The final vote went against slavery, the South seceded, the North attacked, the South lost, slavery was abolished, Jim Crow arose, and the stage was set for Brown.

The exhibit does an excellent job of portraying the conflicts within Kansas' free-state movement. Only a small number of free-staters were Yankee abolitionists, like John Brown, who believed black people were equal and should be free. The majority were conservative Midwestern farmers and tradesmen who hated slavery because slave plantations were large, which drove up the price of land, and filled with slave labor, which drove down wages. This group didn't just want to ban slavery; they wanted to ban blacks from immigrating to Kansas. As Samuel Adair, John Brown's brother-in-law, said, "They hate slavery, but they hate the negro worse."

Posted on Thursday, May 6, 2004 at 8:26 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Rebecca Solnit: So Much for the Belief that Indians Are Vanishing

Rebecca Solnit, in www.tomdispatch.com, a weblog of the Nation Institute (May 6, 2004):

The law of unexpected consequences prevails so frequently that perhaps it should not be so unexpected. For example, Laura Bush's attempt early last year to hold a symposium on "Poetry and the American Voice" while her husband was planning to saturation-bomb Baghdad so appalled poet, publisher and symposium invitee Sam Hamill that he circulated a letter of outrage to Ms. Bush; his e-mail box filled up; he started poetsagainstthewar.org, to which more than ten thousand poets submitted poems; and so he became a major spokesperson against the war and an organizer of antiwar poets. Laura Bush's symposium was cancelled. In much the same way, the plans to celebrate the five hundredth anniversary of Christopher Columbus's crash into the Americas were overwhelmed by opposition to that celebration. Indigenous people throughout the western hemisphere used the occasion -- not just a single day, but a discussion that began long before and continues yet -- to assert their own history of the Americas, as a place that was not discovered but invaded. Invaded but not quite conquered, for though much was lost, the Quincentennial was an occasion for many native groups to assert that they are still here, that they remember, and that this history is not over.

Thus the Quincentennial became an occasion for many nonnatives to relearn the genocidal history of the Americas and sometimes address those parts of the history still with us -- questions of sovereignty, visibility, representation, reparation, and land rights, among other things. Thus, remembering the past became the grounds to make changes in the present. Thus, culture becomes politics. In the end, the day did not commemorate the start of an era but marked in some subtle way the beginning of its end.

After the Second World War, one of the programs to dissolve Native Americans' identity, diffuse their power and detach them from their land base involved resettling them in the cities to assimilate. For many, cities instead gave them access to new resources and information and fostered intertribal political alliances. Out of this, in Minneapolis, came the American Indian Movement, AIM, in 1968 (and out, as well, of the hope for justice and the tactics for achieving it offered by the Civil Rights Movement and out of the carnival of the later 1960s). Out of an AIM conference in 1974 came the International Indian Treaty Council. In 1977, the Treaty Council went to the United Nations, where it became the first indigenous organization to apply for and receive non-governmental --NGO--status. So you can trace the Quincentennial back to 1974, or 1968, or for that matter 1492, along a zigzag trail of encounters, reactions, and realizations.

Treaty Council activist Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz was at the UN General Assembly in 1980 when Spain proposed that 1992 be declared the "year of encounter of civilizations" and "it was the most amazing thing--every African government representative stood up and walked out, so I walked out. They were not thinking about indigenous people, but this was the onset of slavery and they sure knew that." South Africa's African National Congress and African NGOs would prove important allies for the UN-based struggle for indigenous rights. Spain had planted the idea of the quincentennial of Columbus's arrival, but indigenous-rights activists would reshape it into an antithesis of Spain's agenda.

"We never got one single line of media attention," says Dunbar-Ortiz of the early years. Getting the word out was "just really hard work" carried out by speakers traveling to reservations, groups, and conferences, and by publishing a newsletter put together by the poet Simon Ortiz, among others. Word spread, and ideas began to shift. Dunbar-Ortiz told me, "It is exactly what gives you hope when you see this happen--when you see how hungry people are for the truth. When it is offered to them, they seize it." Truth has been at least as important as law in the shift of status of indigenous Americans, for even the legal gains seem to be built on a foundation of changed imagination and rewritten history. Columbus Day became an occasion to rethink the past, and rethinking the past opened the way to a different future.

Nonindigenous Americans often embraced two contradictory not-so-true stories before that change. One was that Native Americans had all been wiped out--the tale of how a frail, static people had been swept away by progress was sometimes told sadly, but seldom questioned. Even radicals seemed in love with this tragedy, and again and again books casually assert some tribe or nation has vanished that hasn't. We had the end of the trail, the last of the Mohicans, a vanishing race, a dying nation, a doomed people, stories that might condemn the past but let us off the hook for unfinished conflicts. In the other key story, there never had been any Native Americans, because the continent had been pristine, untouched, virgin wilderness before we got here, a story particularly dear to environmentalists who saw nature as a nonhuman realm, a place apart. Putting Native Americans back in the picture meant radically redefining what nature means and what the human place in it might be (an undoing of an entrenched dichotomy, the nature-culture divide, with profound implications for the environmental movement, which has not yet altogether come to terms with this revision of meaning). Putting them in the present means that the Indian wars are not over. The difference is that in recent years they have begun to win, some things, some of the time, and that this time the wars are mostly in the courts, the Congress, over textbooks, novels, movies, monuments, museums, and mascots, as well as on and over the land.

The Quincentennial became an opportunity to restate what Columbus's arrival had meant --invasion, colonialism, genocide -- and what it had been met with -- "500 years of resistance" was the catch-phrase. Other factors, from academic discourse to the legal ruling that made Native American casinos pop up across the country (you can't lose your shirt to an extinct people), shifted the terms of native visibility and historical memory. It was probably the quincentennial conversation, as well as the brutal civil war in Guatemala, that moved the Nobel Committee to give the Nobel Peace Prize to indigenous Guatemalan human-rights activist Rigoberta Menchu.

And it was the Quincentennial that had made the indigenous revolutionaries who would become world-famous as the Zapatistas say "basta," enough, to their own five hundred years of defense against annihilation and go on the offensive, though it was NAFTA that pushed them over the edge into action (but then, NAFTA can be regarded as just another phase of the colonizing program that began with Columbus). On New Year's Day of 1994, a guerrilla army of indigenous men, women, and children came out from their hiding places in the Lancadonan jungle and mountains of Chiapas, Mexico's southernmost state, and took the world by surprise and six towns by storm. In honor of Emiliano Zapata, an indigenous Mexican rebel at the other end of the twentieth century, they called themselves the Zapatistas and their philosophy Zapatismo.

The fall of the Soviet Bloc was framed as the triumph of capitalism; in the years that followed, capitalists increasingly asserted that the "free market," which had triumphed over history itself, was tantamount to democracy and freedom; and the 1990s would see the rise of neoliberalism. The Zapatistas chose to rise on the day that NAFTA, the North American Free Trade Agreement, went into effect, recognizing early what a decade has confirmed: NAFTA was an economic death sentence for hundreds of thousands of small-scale Mexican farmers and with them, something of rural and traditional life. In dazzling proclamations and manifestos, the Zapatistas announced the rise of the fourth world and the radical rejection of neoliberalism.

They were never much of a military force, but their intellectual and imaginative power has been staggering, an influence not just on indigenous movements throughout the world, but on the antiglobalization movement's understanding of place, power, and of the very language of insurrection and history. And hope. Two years after that initial uprising, the Zapatistas issued the Fourth Declaration of the Lacondon Jungle. It reads in part, "A new lie is being sold to us as history. The lie of the defeat of hope, the lie of the defeat of dignity, the lie of the defeat of humanity…. In place of humanity, they offer us the stock market index. In place of dignity, they offer us the globalization of misery. In place of hope, they offer us emptiness. In place of life, they offer us an International of Terror. Against the International of Terror that neoliberalism represents, we must raise an International of Hope. Unity, beyond borders, languages, colors, cultures, sexes, strategies and thoughts, of all those who prefer a living humanity. The International of Hope. Not the bureaucracy of hope, not an image inverse to, and thus similar to, what is annihilating us. Not power with a new sign or new clothes. A flower, yes, that flower of hope."

Since then, a surge of indigenous power has transformed the face of politics in many Latin American states, including Columbia, Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia. For example, in 2000, Ecuadorian General Lucio Gutierrez was ordered to repress protests against government policy by tens of thousands of indigenous Ecuadorians. Instead, he set up kitchens to feed them, permitted them to occupy the Congress, and joined an indigenous leader in announcing a new government. He was jailed for this disobedience, kicked out of the army--and in 2002 he was elected president, the first time indigenous people had exercised such power anywhere in the hemisphere. Far from perfect, he still represents a crucial shift in power. Gutierrez was elected a month after the 510th anniversary of Columbus's arrival, which became another day of hemispheric action stretching from Canada to Chile.

In the United States, the post-Quincentennial gains have been on many fronts, from the repatriation of indigenous corpses and skeletons in museum collections to lawsuits against the Department of the Interior for "losing" billions of dollars that belong to the tribes, along with the records of that money. The number of people identifying as Native American more than doubled between the 1990 and 2000 censuses, in part because the new census recognized mixed-race identities, but also because far more people were willing to acknowledge an identity that had once been denigrated. From being a dying race, the indigenous peoples of the Americas have become a growing force.

The Coast Miwok were supposed to be extinct when I was growing up on their territory; in 1992, they began fighting for federal recognition, and in 2000, led by the gifted part-Miwok novelist Greg Sarris, they got it. In Yosemite National Park, the cradle of the concept of virgin nature, the native people who were wiped out of the official representations--park signage, park histories, land management policies--have in the past decade reappeared in those contested cultural sites. And they've won the right to build their own cultural center in the park, a small victory for them but a big shift in defining what nature might mean and who will define it for the four million visitors per year. The Timbisha Shoshone whose homeland became Death Valley National Park have won far more. In 1994, they won federal recognition of their status as a tribe with unextinguished rights, and in 2000 they gained jurisdiction over nearly eight thousand acres in the park, as well as extensive lands outside the park.

And this scale is dwarfed by other victories. The Inuit activist John Amagoalik remembers that in the 1960s journalists would come to his arctic homeland and write about it as "a wasteland where nobody lives… There was always agreement between them that Inuit could not survive as a people. They all agreed that Inuit culture and language ‘will disappear.'" On April 1, 1999, the Inuit got their homeland back. They won from the Canadian government their own autonomously governed province, Nunavut, a huge tract of far northeastern land three times the size of Texas, ten times the size of Britain, a fifth of all Canada.

How do you measure the space between a shift in cultural conversation and a landmass three times the size of Texas? What bridges the space between that hope and that realization? What is the scale of the imagination and of the will? What sustained the people whose uncountable small acts shifted the world, since almost no such act has a reward in itself, or soon, or certainly? From what vantage point can you see such incremental, such incomplete, but such extraordinary transformation?

The resurgence of the indigenous peoples of the Americas means many things. One is that there are usually cracks somewhere in the inevitable and the obvious. Another is that capitalism and state socialism do not define the range of possibilities, for the indigenous nations often represent significantly different ways of imagining and administrating social and economic systems as well as of connecting spirituality to politics. Indigenous people have been relegated again and again to history's graveyard; as the Zapatistas and other visionaries and insurrectionaries they have, instead, generated the birth of another future. "Another world is possible" has become a rallying cry, and in some ways this is their world, the other future drawn from another past recovered despite everything. This resurgence also demonstrates the sidelong ways of change: from an argument in Geneva to a land mass in northern Canada, from a critique of the past to a new path into the future, from ideas and words to land and power. This is how history is made, out of such unlikely materials, and of hope.

Rebecca Solnit is the author of Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities (from which this piece is an excerpt) and seven other books, including River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West, which recently won the Spurs Award of the Western Writers of America, among others. She lives in San Francisco, of course.

Reprinted by permission of Nation Books. All rights reserved.

Copyright C2004 Rebecca Solnit

Posted on Thursday, May 6, 2004 at 7:28 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Jonathan Harris: Why Are Academics Misrepresenting Reform of Title VI?

 

Jonathan Calt Harris, in National Review (May 5, 2004):

"Nothing in this title shall be construed to authorize the International Advisory Board to mandate, direct, or control an institution of higher education's specific instructional content, curriculum, or program of instruction."

The above sentence is apparently very difficult for academics to understand. It comes from a section of federal legislation — H.R. 3077, Section 633(b) — that has passed the House and is now before the Senate. The bill would establish an advisory board over the portion of government funds (approximately $90 million in 2004) sent to select American universities for international studies.

These funds, called Title VI of the Higher Education Act, go to "area studies" programs at National Resource Centers (NRCs) that study different parts of the world. Each of the seventeen Middle East NRCs receives about $500,000 annually. This money is allocated with the understanding that, by fostering expertise in the various regions of the world, they further U.S. national security.

Strangely, some of the Middle Eastern studies academics who receive these funds seem unable to comprehend the nature of the proposed board:

Juan Cole, professor of the modern Middle East at the University of Michigan: "The main goal of this legislation is to impose an ideological agenda on university teaching, research and writing about issues like the Middle East. The point of the committee is to warp academic study and ensure that independent researchers are not allowed to be heard."

Nezar AlSayyad, chair of the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at UC Berkeley: The bill is "intervention in what faculty members do and it is an attempt to silence those who criticize the government."

Rashid Khalidi, Edward Said chair at Columbia University: "This legislation represents the thin end of the wedge for political interference with the curriculum. It is meant to provide a highly partisan, ideological litmus test for academics."

Amy Newhall, executive director of the Middle Eastern Studies Association: The law creates "an investigative body" that will "establish a precedent for future legislation directed at any field, discipline, or professional school in any and all universities."

All of these statements — and many others like them by Middle East specialists — are false. Ignoring the clear, unambiguous language of the legislation quoted above, Middle East specialists haul in extraneous issues of ideological agenda, partisanship, litmus testing, and precedents....

Posted on Wednesday, May 5, 2004 at 5:28 PM | Comments (0) | Top

Peter Balakian: Writing About the Armenian Massacre

Peter Balakian, professor of English and the humanities at Colgate University, in the Chronicle of Higher Education (May 4, 2004):

On a recent book tour for The Burning Tigris: The Armenian Genocide and America's Response, I was asked by an eminent Armenian psychiatrist how I was able to write about massacre, deportation, rape, and torture without becoming depressed or even incapacitated. He told me that in his own course on trauma he found it nearly impossible to teach about the Armenian Genocide because it caused him such pain.

My response was not psychological. I would imagine that any writer who writes about the worst things human beings can do to each other has to deal, in a personal way, with the weight of those realities. Working in such domains can be depressing and even traumatic. You can feel as if you are living in an alternate universe. In my own case, many of my ancestors perished in the massacres and death marches carried out by the Ottoman Turkish government in 1915. About 1.5 million Armenians died during the 20th century's first modern episode of race extermination, and another million were permanently exiled from their homeland of 2,500 years.

In writing The Burning Tigris, I wrote about two histories -- the genocide and the American response to it -- and entwined them. My major discovery was that during the period of America's ascension to international prominence, at the turn of the 20th century, the U.S. response to Sultan Adbul Hamid II's massacre and decimation of about 200,000 Armenians in the 1890s, and then to the genocide of 1915, was America's first human-rights movement. The movement, which helped to define the nation's emerging identity, spanned more than four decades, from 1894 into the 1930s. Intellectuals, politicians, diplomats, religious leaders, ordinary citizens, and grass-roots organizations came together to try to save the Armenian people. The passionate commitments and commentaries of a remarkable cast of public figures -- including Julia Ward Howe, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Clara Barton, Alice Stone Blackwell, Theodore Roosevelt, John D. Rockefeller Sr. and Jr., Spencer Trask, and Ambassador Henry Morgenthau Sr. -- made a difference. They and other courageous eyewitnesses recorded their accounts of massacre and deportation, and often risked their lives to save men, women, and children in the killing fields of Turkey.

The crisis of the "starving Armenians" became so embedded in American popular culture that, in an age when a loaf of bread cost a nickel, the American people sent more than $100-million ($1.25-billion in today's economy) in aid through the American Committee on Armenian Atrocities and its successor, Near East Relief.

Given that extraordinary history, it is dismaying that Congress has not been able to pass the most basic commemorative resolution on the Armenian Genocide. There has been intense pressure from America's NATO ally Turkey, which denies the genocide and is engaged in a propaganda campaign to cover it up. Such is the irony that the United States lacks the moral courage to affirm its own first international-human-rights movement.

What keeps one going through the research and writing about massacre, torture, sexual mutilation, rape? During the Armenian Genocide, the Turks and Kurds performed some of the most hideous acts of violence in recorded history. Often they did so in the name of Allah and with the ideology of jihad as a rationale; teenage girls were raped with crucifixes made from tree branches; clergymen and teachers, professors at Protestant missionary colleges, had their eyes gouged out before they were beheaded. On the deportation marches the mobile killing squads -- the chettes -- and gendarmes often sliced off women's breasts, or slashed open pregnant women and dashed their babies on the rocks. Thousands of women were raped, abducted, sold into harems. Women committed suicide, often in large numbers, to avoid such fates. As Christians they believed they were going to a better world.

Ambassador Morgenthau, a Jew trying to save this Christian minority, appealed to the Turkish minister of the interior, Talaat Pasha, more than once to stop the massacres. Morgenthau described in his memoir the torture and cruelty, like the practice of bastinado, in which Turkish gendarmes would beat the soles of the feet of an Armenian prisoner until he fainted, revive him, and begin again. Sometimes the victim's feet later had to be amputated. Sometimes "they would extract his fingernails and toenails; they would apply red-hot irons to his breast, tear off his flesh with red-hot pincers, and pour boiling butter into the wounds. In some cases the gendarmes would nail hands and feet to pieces of wood -- evidently in imitation of the Crucifixion, and while the sufferer writhed in his agony, they would cry: 'Now let your Christ come help you!'" Morgenthau said.

"One day," he wrote, "I was discussing these proceedings with a responsible Turkish official, who was describing the tortures inflicted. He made no secret of the fact that the government had instigated them and, like all Turks of the official classes, he enthusiastically approved this treatment of the detested race."

In the face of such horror, can a writer even suggest there is pleasure and excitement in doing the work, in the act of writing?

Posted on Tuesday, May 4, 2004 at 2:22 PM | Comments (0) | Top


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Just How Stupid Are We? By Rick Shenkman

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