Lies My Teacher Told Me (25 page)

Since the nadir, the climate of race relations has improved, owing especially to the
civil rights movement. But massive racial disparities remain, inequalities that can only
be briefly summarized here. In 1990 African American median family income averaged only 57
percent of white family income; Native Americans and Hispanics averaged about 65 percent
as much as whites. Money can be used to buy many things in our society, from higher SAT
scores to the ability to swim, and African American, Hispanic, and Native American
families lag in their access to all those things. Ultimately, money buys life itself, in
the form of better nutrition and health care and freedom from danger and stress. It should
therefore come as no surprise that in 1990 African Americans and Native Americans had
median life expectancies at birth that were six years shorter than whites'.

On average, African Americans have worse housing, lower scores on IQ_ tests, and higher
percentages of young men in jail. The sneaking suspicion that African Americans might be
inferior goes unchallenged in the hearts of many blacks and whites. It is all too easy to
blame the victim and. conclude that people of color are themselves responsible for being
on the bottom. Without causal historical analysis, these racial disparities are
impossible to explain.

When textbooks make racism invisible in American history, they obstruct our already poor
ability to see it in the present. The closest they come to analysis is to present a vague
feeling of optimism: in race relations, as in everything, our society is constantly
getting better. We used to have slavery; now we don't. We used to have lynchings; now we
don't. Baseball used to be all white; now it isn't. The notion of progress suffuses
textbook treatments of black-white relations, implying that race relations have somehow
steadily improved on their own. This cheery optimism only compounds the problem, because
whites can infer that racism is over. “The U.S. has done more than any other nation in
history to provide equal rights for all,” The American Tradition assures us. Of course, its authors have not seriously considered the levels of human
rights in the Netherlands, Lesotho, or Canada today, or in Choctaw society in 1800,
because they don't mean their declaration as a serious statement of comparative his
toryit is just ethnocentric cheerleading.

High school students “have a gloomy view ofthe state ofrace relations in America today,”
according to a recent nationwide poll. Students of all racial backgrounds brood about the
subject.8' Another poll reveals that for the first time in this century, young white adults have
less tolerant attitudes toward black Americans than those over thirty. One reason is that
“the under-30 generation is pathetically ignorant of recent American history.”87 Too young to have experienced or watched the civil rights movement as it happened, these
young people have no understanding of the past and present workings of racism in American
society.

Educators justify teaching history because it gives us perspective on the present. If
there is one issue in the ptesent to which authors should relate the history they tell,
the issue is racism. But as long as history textbooks make white racism invisible in the
nineteenth century neither they nor the students who use them will be able to analyze
racism intelligently in the present.

It is not only radical or currently unfashionable ideas that the texts leave outit is all
ideas, including those of their heroes.

Frances FftzGeratti You may dispose of me very easily. I am nearly disposed of now. But this question is still
to be settledthis Negro question, I mean; the end of that is not yet.

John Brown, 18S I am here to plead his cause with you. I plead not for his life, but for his char
acterhis immortal life; and so it becomes your cause wholly, and is not his in the least.

Henry David Thoreau, “A Plea for Captain John Brown,” 18 We shall need all the anti-slavery feeling in the country, and more; you can go home and
try to bring the people to your views, and you may say anything you like about me, if that
will help. . . . When the hour comes for dealing with slavery, I trust I will be willing
to do my duty though it cost my life.

Abraham Lincoln to abolitionist Unitarian ministers, 18

Perhaps the most telling criticism Frances FitzGerald made in her 1979 survey of American
history textbooks, America Revised, was that they leave out ideas. As presented by textbooks of the 1970s, “American political
life was completely mindless,” she observed.

Why would textbook authors avoid even those ideas with which they agree? Taking ideas
seriously does not fit with the rhetorical style of textbooks, which presents events so as
to make them seem foreordained along a line of constant progress. Including ideas would
make history contingent: things could go either way, and have on occasion. The “right”
people, armed with the “right” ideas, have not always won. When they didn't, the authors
would be in the embarrassing position of having to disapprove of an outcome in the past.
Including ideas would introduce uncertainty. This is not textbook style. Textbooks
unfold history without real drama or suspense, only melodrama.

On the subject of race relations, John Brown's statement that “this question is still to
be settled” seems as relevant today, and even as ominous, as when he spoke in 1859. The
opposite of racism is antiracism, of course, or what we might call racial idealism or
equalitarianism, and it is still not clear whether it will prevail. In this struggle, our
history textbooks offer little help. Just as they underplay white racism, they also
neglect racial idealism. In so doing, they deprive students of potential role models to
call upon as they try to bridge the new fault lines that will spread out in the future
from the great rift in our past.

Since ideas and ideologies played an especially important role in the Civil War era,
American history textbooks give a singularly inchoate view of that Struggle, Just as
textbooks treat slavery without racism, they treat abolitionism without much idealism.<
Consider the most radical white abolitionist of them all, John Brown.

The treatment of Brown, like the treatment of slavery and Reconstruction, has changed in
American history textbooks. From 1890 to about 1970, John Brown was insane. Before 1890 he
was perfectly sane, and after 1970 he regained his sanity. Since Brown himself did not change after his death, his sanity
provides an inadvertent index of the level of white racism in our society. In today's
textbooks, Brown makes two appearances: Pottawatomie, Kansas, and Harpers Ferry, Virginia.
Recall that the 1854 Kansas-Nebraska Act tried to resolve the question of slavery through
“popular sovereignty.” The practical result of leaving the slavery decision to whoever
settled in Kansas was an ideologically motivated settlement craze. Northerners rushed to
live and farm in Kansas Territory and make it “free soil.” Fewer Southern planters moved
to Kansas with their slaves, but slaveowners from Missouri repeatedly crossed the Missouri
River to vote in territorial elections and to establish a reign of terror to drive out the
free-soil farmers. In May 1856 hundreds of proslavery “border ruffians,” as they came to
be called, raided the free-soil town of Lawrence, Kansas, burning down the hotel and
destroying two printing presses. The American Tradition describes Brown's action at Pottawatomie: “In retaliation, a militant abolitionist named
John Brown led a midnight attack on the proslavery settlement of Pottawatomie. Five people were killed by Brown and his followers.” Discovering American History describes Brown's 1859 Harpers Ferry raid:

)ohn Brown, son of an abolitionist, envisioned a plan to invade the South and free the slaves. In 1859, with financial support
from abolitionists, Brown made plans to start a slave rebellion in Virginia, to
establish a free state in the Appalachian Mountains, and to spread the rebellion through
the South. On October 16, 1859, Brown and eighteen of his men captured the federal
arsenal at Harpers Ferry, in the present state of West Virginia. . . . He and his men were
captured by a force of marines. Brown was brought to trial and convicted of treason & against Virginia, murder, and criminal conspiracy. He was hanged on December 2, 1859.

In all, seven of the twelve textbooks take this neutral approach to John Brown.7 Their bland paragraphs don't imply that Brown was crazy, but neither do they tell enough
about him to explain why he became a hero to so many blacks and nonslaveholding whites.

Three textbooks still linger in a former era. “John Brown was almost certainly insane,”
opines American History. The American Way tells a whopper: “[L]ater Brown was proved to be mentally ill.” The American Pageant characterizes Brown as “deranged,” “gaunt,” “grim,” “terrible,” and “crackbrained,”
“probably of unsound mind,” and says that “thirteen of his near relatives were regarded as insane, including his mother and grandmother.“ Two other books finesse the sanity issue by
calling Brown merely ”fanatical.” No textbook has any sympathy for the man or takes any
pleasure in his ideals and actions.

For the benefit of readers who, like me, grew up reading that Brown was at least fanatic
if not crazed, let's consider the evidence. To be sure, some of Brown's lawyers and
relatives, hoping to save his neck, suggested an insanity defense. But no one who knew
Brown thought him crazy. He favorably impressed people who spoke with him after his
capture, including his jailer and even reporters writing for Democratic newspapers, which
supported slavery. Governor Wise of Virginia called him “a man of clear head” after Brown
got the better of him in an informal interview. “They are themselves mistaken who take him
to be a madman,” Governor Wise said. In his message to the Virginia legislature he said
Brown showed “quick and clear perception,” “rational premises and consecutive reasoning,”
“composure and self-possession.”

After 1890 textbook authors inferred Brown's madness from his plan, which admittedly was
farfetched. Never mind that John Brown himself presciently told Frederick Douglass that
the venture would make a stunning impact even if it failed. Nor that his twenty-odd
followers can hardly all be considered crazed too." Rather, we must recognize that the
insanity with which historians have charged John Brown was never psychological. It was
ideological. Brown's actions made no sense to textbook writers between 1890 and about
1970, To make no sense is to be crazy.

Clearly, Brown's contemporaries did not consider him insane. Brown's ideological influence
in the month before his hanging, and continuing after his death, was immense. He moved the
boundary of acceptable thoughts and deeds regarding slavery. Before Harpers Ferry, to be
an abolitionist was not quite acceptable, even in the North. Just talking about freeing
slavesadvocating immediate emancipationwas behavior at the outer limit of the ideological
continuum. By engaging in armed action, including murder, John Brown made mere verbal
abolitionism seem much less radical.

After an initial shock wave of revulsion against Brown, in the North as well as in the
South, Americans were fascinated to hear what he had to say. In his 1859 trial John Brown
captured the attention of the nation like no other abolitionist or slaveowner before or
since. He knew it: “My whole life before had not afforded me one half the opportunity to
plead for the right.”10 In his speech to the court on November 2, just before the judge sentenced him to die,
Brown argued, “Had I so interfered in behalf of the rich, the powerful, it would have been
all right.” He referred to the Bible, which he saw in the JOHN BROWN AND ABRAHAM LINCOLN . j6j courtroom, “which teaches me that all things whatsoever I would that men should do to me,
I should do even so to them. It teaches me further, to remember them that are in bonds as
bound with them. I endeavored to act up to that instruction.” Brown went on to claim the
high moral ground: “I believe that to have interfered as I have done, as I have always
freely admitted I have done, in behalf of His despised poor, I did no wrong but right.”
Although he objected that his impending death penalty was unjust, he accepted it and
pointed to graver injustices: “Now, if it is deemed necessary that I should forfeit my
life for the furtherance ofthe ends ofjustice, and mingle my blood further with the
blood of my children and with the blood of millions in this slave country whose rights are
disregarded by wicked, cruel, and unjust enactments, I say, let it be done.”

Brown's willingness to go to the gallows for what he thought was right had a moral force
of its own. “It seems as if no man had ever died in America before, for in order to die
you must first have lived,” Henry David Thoreau observed in a eulogy in Boston. “These
men, in teaching us how to die, have at the same time taught us how to live.” Thoreau went
on to compare Brown with Jesus of Nazareth, who had faced a similar death at the hands of
the state.

During the rest of November, Brown provided the nation graceful instruction in how to
face death. In Larchmont, New York, George Templeton Strong wrote in his diary, “One's
faith in anything is terribly shaken by anybody who is ready to go to the gallows
condemning and denouncing it.”13 Brown's letters to his family and friends softened his image, showed his human side, and
prompted an outpouring of sympathy for his children and soon-to-be widow, if not for Brown
himself. His letters to supporters and remarks to journalists, widely circulated, formed a
continuing indictment of slavery. We see his charisma in this letter from “a conservative
Christian”so the author signed itwritten to Brown in jail: “While I cannot approve of all
your acts, J stand in awe of your position since your capture, and dare not oppose you
lest I be found fighting against God; for you speak as one having authority, and seem to
be strengthened from on high.”14 When Virginia executed John Brown on December 2, making him the first American since the
founding of the nation to be hanged as a traitor, church bells mourned in cities
throughout the North. Louisa May Alcott, William Dean Howells, Herman Melville, John
Greenleaf Whittier, and Walt Whitman were among the poets who responded to the event. “The
gaze of Europe is fixed at this moment on America,” wrote Victor Hugo from France. Hanging
Brown, Hugo predicted, "will open a latent fissure that will finally split the Union
asunder. The punishment ofJohn Brown may consolidate slavery in Virginia, but it will certainly shatter the American Democracy. You
preserve your shame but you kill your glory.

Brown remained controversial after his death. Republican congressmen kept their distance
from his felonious acts. Nevertheless, Southern slaveowners were appalled at the show of
Northern sympathy for Brown and resolved to maintain slavery by any means necessary,
including quitting the Union if they lost the next election. Brown's charisma in the
North, meanwhile, was not spent but only increased due to what many came to view as his
martyrdom. As the war came, as thousands of Americans found themselves making the same
commitment to face death that John Brown had made, the force of his example took on new
relevance. That's why soldiers marched into battle singing “John Brown's Body.” Two years
later, church congregations sang Julia Ward Howe's new words to the song: “As He died to
make men holy, let us die to make men free”and the identification ofJohn Brown and Jesus
Christ took another turn. The next year saw the 54th Massachusetts Colored Regiment
parading through Boston to the tune, en route to its heroic destiny with death in South
Carolina, while William Lloyd Garrison surveyed the cheering bystanders from a balcony,
his hand resting on a bust ofJohn Brown. In February 1865 another Massachusetts colored
regiment marched to the tune through the streets of" Charleston, South Carolina.

That was the high point of old John Brown. At the turn of the century, as southern and
border states disfranchised African Americans, as lynchings proliferated, as blackface
minstrel shows came to dominate American popular culture, white America abandoned the last
shards of its racial idealism. A history published in 1923 makes plain the connection to
Brown's insanity: “The farther we get away from the excitement of 1859 the more we are
disposed to consider this extraordinary man the victim of mental delusions.” Not until the civil rights movement of the 1960s was white America freed from enough of
its racism to accept that a white person did not have to be crazy to die for black
equality. In a sense, the murders of Mickey Schwerner and Andrew Goodman in Mississippi,
James Reeb and Viola Liuzzo in Alabama, and various other white civil rights workers in
various other southern states during the 1960s liberated textbook writers to see sanity
again in John Brown. Rise ofthe American Nation, written in 1961, calls the Harpers Ferry plan “a wild idea, certain to fail,” while in Triumph ofthe American Nation, published in 1986, the plan becomes “a bold idea, but almost certain to fail.”

Frequently in American history the ideological needs ofwhite racists and black
nationalists coincide. So it was with their views ofJohn Brown, During JOHN BROWN AND ABRAHAM LINCOLN

the heyday of the Black Power movement, I listened to speaker after speaker in a
Mississippi forum denounce whites. “They are your enemies,” thundered one black militant.
“Not one white person has ever had the best interests of black people at heart.” John
Brown sprang to my mind, but the speaker anticipated my objection: “You might say John
Brown did, but remember, he was crazy.” John Brown might provide a defense against such
global attacks on whites, but, unfortunately, American history textbooks have erased him
as a usable character.

No black person who met John Brown thought him crazy. Many black leaders of the day-Martin
Delaney, Henry Highland Garnet, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, and othersknew and
respected Brown. Only illness kept Tubman from joining him at Harpers Ferry, The day of
his execution black-owned businesses closed in mourning across the North. Frederick Dou
glass called Brown “one of the greatest heroes known to American fame.” A black college deliberately chose to locate at Harpers Ferry, and in 1918 its alumni
dedicated a memorial stone to Brown and his men “to commemorate their heroism.” The stone
stated, in part, “That this nation might have a new birth of freedom, that slavery should
be removed forever from American soil, John Brown and his 21 men gave their lives.”