Monthly Archives: January 2013

Constructing Anglo-Saxon “Whiteness”

How to approach and best conceptualize the ignominious history of race in the United States is a perennially challenging question for historians, generation after generation. While systemic inequality has been a feature of the European settler-colonial project since the arrival of the first colonists in North America, the methods of implementing and maintaining this inequality have changed greatly over time, as have the ways that people rationalized it. If Barbara Fields’ “Ideology and Race in American History” argues that race “is a purely ideological notion” (151), then Reginald Horsman’s Race and Manifest Destiny is the history of the development of that ideological construction. In great detail and precision, Horsman reconstructs and analyzes the origins and evolution of racial “Anglo-Saxonism” from its origins in sixteenth century England up through its deployment in the antebellum United States. Horsman seeks to answer how and why racialism triumphed as the ideology of American expansionism.

Racialism, which views all history as that of the struggle between races, has deep roots in European thought. Horsman traces the cult of ideological Anglo-Saxonism to Henry VIII’s break with Rome, in the attempt to establish a uniquely English church (10-11). In doing so, Henry’s religious propagandists emphasized the arrival of Germanic tribes in England in the fifth century over the traditional story of Roman settlement. These Germanic tribes were said to have introduced political liberty to England and that a great culture had flourished until the Norman invasion and occupation. This view formed the basis of the myth of an Anglo-Saxon golden age that would continue to capture the imagination of British parliamentarians in the seventeenth century and American revolutionaries in the eighteenth. This Enlightenment-era conception of Anglo-Saxonism stressed the institutional, as opposed to racial, superiority of the Anglo-Saxons, who were thought uniquely disposed to good government.

Horsman convincingly demonstrates that expansion and, literally spoken, empire, had been on the agenda of the earliest American revolutionaries, including the radical Thomas Paine (81, 85), but that conceptions of racial superiority were largely absent from these intentions. A number of shifts in political and intellectual history congealed to shift the emphasis: the new Romantic thinkers who stressed the particular, individual, and emotional over Enlightenment-era universalism; the development of German philology and linguistics, which traced the origins of Northern Europeans to an Aryan civilization that marched east and settled in Europe; the dissemination of phrenology and other pseudosciences that claimed to objectively stratify races physically; and most importantly, the successful expansion of the British and American empires. All of these early nineteenth century developments pointed in the direction of essentializing intellectual inquiry, inscribing various peoples with inherent, unchanging qualities. These “races” were then ranked more or less based on the level of political power they had consolidated up to that point.

This shift in ideology found fertile roots in the American social context, which found white Americans in stark conflicts of interest with its two classical “Others”: African slaves and the indigenous population. The ascendant profitability of African chattel slavery helped white society rationalize enslavement, while early American hopes to “improve” – or remake in their own image – the indigenous population crashed on the rocks of the Indians’ often-steadfast resistance to colonialism. By the time of the Mexican War, Northerners and Southerners alike reached a consensus that they embodied the zenith of Anglo-Saxon civilization, and their success vis-à-vis their competitors was all the proof they needed. Spreading their superior economic, political, and cultural systems became Americans’ civilizing mission by the end of the nineteenth century.

Horsman’s account is persuasive, and the book is well-documented and brimming with racialist thinkers and quotes. This is so much the case that long sections become are reduced to a barrage of names and quotations. This aside, my main criticism regards the lack of what Kolchin might refer to as “actual social relations” (Kolchin 157, 159, 170, 172). While the book is comprehensive regarding the intellectual history of Euroamerican racialism, it engages little with specific events and is close to being a pure history of ideas as such. Horsman can be largely excused for this due to his exceptionally documented history of racialism, but it is left to other historians to determine the more material implications of this ideology, as well as more specifically render how the material conditions were conducive to the wide acceptance of such an ideology.

Reactionaries, T. Paine, and the French Revolution

British anti-Jacobin caricature of T. Paine

Seth Cotlar’s Tom Paine’s America: The Rise and Fall of Transatlantic Radicalism in the Early Republic (2011) is an intellectual history of the development of US political culture in 1790s, primarily as it struggled to define itself against the momentous events of the French Revolution. While I am far from familiar with the literature of the early republic – or indeed of American history in general – it was refreshing to read Cotlar’s internationalized take on US political thought. From the beginning, Cotlar sets out to dispel exceptionalist and nationalist readings of American history that view the polity as isolated from developments across the Atlantic, and even the Caribbean and further afield. Cotlar demonstrates that American political thought and popular nationalism in the formative decade of the 1790s was to a great extent defined by repudiating its transatlantic “Other”: French revolutionary Jacobinism. Furthermore, Cotlar’s “history of ideas from the bottom up”[1] resurrects the obscured contest between the activist, cosmopolitan, and pro-French partisans of Thomas Paine with their anti-cosmopolitan, conservative Democratic, and Federalist opponents. In this way, the French Revolution was transposed onto American soil and fought in newspaper columns of its defenders and its detractors.

Cotlar’s text appears to speak to many of the problems associated with the literature of the early republic as delineated in our common readings by Brooke, Waldstreicher, Pasley, and Robertson. Largely avoiding the high politics of “great men,” Cotlar’s main sources are pamphlets, newspapers, sermons, and books produced by American intellectuals and activists outside of the official political class. Indeed, one of his main objectives is to demonstrate the extent of popular mobilization and discussion of political issues, and in this he succeeds remarkably. Despite earning top billing, Paine plays a relatively small role in the text, functioning mostly as a trendsetting “godfather” figure for the radical democrats of the era. These democrats developed a resonant critique of laissez-faire capitalism, private property, and concentrated wealth, while simultaneously pushing a participatory model of “radical publicity” in the realm of political representation.

But the most significant contribution of Cotlar’s book is its vivid demonstration of the depth of American cosmopolitanism. In these pages, British, French, and Americans are constantly engaged in a debate over the meaning of democracy. Wisely, Cotlar does not limit his attention to radicals – in fact a large portion of his book is devoted to the conservative backlash against the Painites and Jacobin sympathizers. Likeminded thinkers of all persuasions cultivated international alliances to advance their domestic agendas. While it is no secret that the radical democrats’ agenda was thoroughly trounced by their opponents, Cotlar’s contribution shows that a great deal of defining what the American republic was consisted of a concerted effort to define what it was not. Cotlar convincingly argues that the battles of the 1790s were formative in the development of an American political culture: one that would consistently emphasize its own triumphant exceptionalism in the face of foreign depravity. As a historian of the twentieth century, I couldn’t help but notice the rhetorical and substantive similarity between the anti-Jacobin and anti-communist crusades.

However, there are limitations to Cotlar’s brief work. Missing from these pages are substantive discussions of the role of women, slavery, and the indigenous population. While it seems quite natural that scant attention would be paid to such subjects in an intellectual history of the 1790s, considering these sectors of the population (together the majority) were excluded from meaningful participation in society, much less intellectual debates, their omission is scarcely accounted for by Cotlar. One is frequently left wondering just how radical the Painite populace was, but more importantly for our purposes, what might an American intellectual history of the 1790s that does not ignore oppressed groups look like?

 


[1] Cotlar, Tom Paine’s America, 9.

First Post: An Introduction

My path to the graduate program in History at Rice has been a long and winding one. I earned a BA in Cinema, with a minor in Music from the University of Iowa in 2007. Gravitating toward nonfiction cinema, I worked in various capacities on professional documentaries and video projects, while my own short films have been screened at small midwestern film festivals. The post-9/11 US political climate, the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, and more particularly the devastating Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 2006, provoked a strong interest in exploring the history of the Arab World, from which my grandparents emigrated to the United States. As my intellectual curiosity grew and my commitments to social and political issues deepened, I decided to move to Lebanon, where I earned an MA in Middle Eastern Studies from the American University of Beirut in 2010. Though my preferred medium of expression has changed from (or continues to shift between) cinema and music to history, what remains consistent is my interest in acquiring a greater understanding of the world in order to change it.

Broadly speaking, my primary research interests revolve around the construction and maintenance of the post-World War II US imperial order, especially as it encountered the emerging Third World, or the majority of humanity. I am more specifically concerned with this process as it took place in one major arena of struggle, the Arab World, especially the mashriq, or its eastern region (Lebanon, Palestine, Syria, Jordan, Iraq). While these topics may appear quite distant from readings in 19th century American history, I have come to realize that themes of imperial expansion, colonization, intercommunal conflict, resistance to subjugation and occupation, uneven capitalist development, and even the struggle for radical social change are at the heart of 19th century American history. Developing a more meaningful understanding of America’s rise to global dominance in the 20th century seems premised on understanding the consolidation of its inland empire in the 19th.

I look forward to the readings we will do in this course, and even more toward our class discussions. Most of our readings will likely be covering material which is very new to me, but I am excited to explore new fields that should yield fresh insights into my primary research interests.