It’s not a great commentary that both Christian abolitionists in antebellum America and slaveholders in the deep south used the Bible to justify and defend their positions.
White agitator John Brown, who led an attempted slave insurrection at Harper’s Ferry, W. Va., was a fire and brimstone, washed in the blood evangelical, yet, he, with biblical passages never far from his lips, was willing to die alongside his black brethren for the cause of abolition.
Meanwhile, bishop Stephen Elliott, of Georgia, and many others like him, including most southern elected officials and Confederate secession leaders, thought slavery was a positive good for Africans ripped from their communities – and often from their families – to do the work of the white masters:
Here is the very long-winded Elliott: Opponents of slavery should “consider whether, by their interference with this institution, they may not be checking and impeding a work which is manifestly Providential. For nearly a hundred years the English and American Churches have been striving to civilize and Christianize Western Africa, and with what result? Around Sierra Leone, and in the neighborhood of Cape Palmas, a few natives have been made Christians, and some nations have been partially civilized; but what a small number in comparison with the thousands, nay, I may say millions, who have learned the way to Heaven and who have been made to know their Savior through the means of African slavery! At this very moment there are from three to four millions of Africans, educating for earth and for Heaven in the so vilified Southern States—learning the very best lessons for a semi-barbarous people—lessons of self-control, of obedience, of perseverance, of adaptation of means to ends; learning, above all, where their weakness lies, and how they may acquire strength for the battle of life. These considerations satisfy me with their condition, and assure me that it is the best relation they can, for the present, be made to occupy.”
Black abolitionist Frederick Douglass saw clearly the cognitive dissonance that was so pervasive in this debate:
“Between the Christianity of this land and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference—so wide that to receive the one as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked. To be the friend of the one is of necessity to be the enemy of the other. I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ; I therefore hate the corrupt, slave-holding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land. Indeed, I can see no reason but the most deceitful one for calling the religion of this land Christianity…”
Jesus never spoke a word against slavery, and Yahweh, of Old Testament fame, was practically complicit, so modern Christians, attempting to soften the blow and do their own interpreting, have claimed the slavery mentioned in the Bible amounted “merely” to indentured servitude, but nearly everyone, including the most learned biblically faithful readers of the entire 17th and 18th centuries, disagree with them.
Years before the Constitutional Convention of 1787, which led to the establishment of a strong central government, with its checks and balances on power and the critically important Supremacy Clause, elevating federal over conflicting state law, here is George Washington in his last circular as commander-in-chief from June 1783 (first quote marked in red):
Three years later, on Oct. 31, 1786, he wrote this to “Light-Horse Harry” Henry Lee (second quote):
Let us have (a government) by which our lives, liberties and properties will be secured; or let us know the worst at once. … Precedents are dangerous things; let the reins of government then be braced and held with a steady hand, and every violation of the Constitution be reprehended: if defective, let it be amended, but not suffered to be trampled upon whilst it has an existence.
Washington was no politician, but having had first-hand experience from the war of how chaotic, unpredictable and ineffective localized leadership could be in providing necessary resources to his army during the American Revolution, he seems to have been wise enough to anticipate that if we, as a country, were to have a national government at all, it should be robust and should be able to stand above often-conflicting and self-serving sectional biases to meet the needs of the whole nation and that certain issues, especially those establishing civil “liberties” affecting the entire body politic, must be decided and enforced at the federal level, lest any individual states go rogue and try to adopt their own laws that subvert federal authority.
“Let … every violation of the Constitution be reprehended.”
The Supremacy Clause was a protection against the latter. An early notable example of its invocation was McCulloch v. Maryland (1819), in which the Supreme Court ruled that the federal government had the power, under the “necessary and proper clause” of the Constitution, to establish a national bank, and Maryland did not have the right to tax the bank, pursuant to the Supremacy Clause and Congress’ enumerated right to tax and spend as it chose. The Supremacy Clause has been used many times since to establish the preemptive nature of federal law pertaining to civil rights, same-sex marriage, immigration, gun rights, marijuana legalization and more.
Esmond Wright, author of “Washington and the American Revolution,” notes that the general never wrote down a “coherent theory” on how the country should be run, despite being a key founder of it, and he obviously did not have the Supremacy Clause in mind exactly — there weren’t yet any states to have supremacy over to begin with when Washington wrote to Lee in 1786 — but the roots of it may be found in the above passages, for if the people did not have a government by which “properties and liberties will be secured,” if the central government did not have “supreme power” over the states, then its ability to enforce the securement of those rights would be tenuous at best.
The importance of the Supremacy Clause is hard to overstate. If states were allowed to subvert the Constitution and pass laws that ran counter to it, then the authority of our founding document would be nullified. Further, if states were allowed to pass any and all laws as they saw fit, regardless of their constitutionality, a chaotic, patchwork of statutes that may vary wildly depending on where one lives in the country would result. Worse still, without the clause, state legislators could threaten liberties that had already passed federal muster and potentially roll back decades of civil progress.
What would become the Supremacy Clause was later presented by Washington’s fellow Virginian Edmund Randolph in May 1787, but I can’t find another mention of the idea, or the germ of an idea, that predates Washington’s from the summer of 1783 and fall of 1786. John Locke refers to the legislative branch of government having “supreme power” within the government and the people having supremacy over the legislative, but the relationship between the fledgling nation and the individual colonies was completely unique at this point in world history, a dichotomy Locke could not have anticipated from his perch across the pond in the 17th century. And so here, in Washington’s early and rather unlettered political musings, even as the young nation was just then in the process of winning its independence from the mother country, lies one of the essential tenets of American political theory that has stood the test of time.
The United States is not the greatest nation on Earth. It’s not a great nation among many. In moral or ethical terms, it’s not even a good one. While there is indeed much that is positive about who we are as a nation and what we stand for — personal liberty; democracy by the people, for the people; hard work; perseverance; and innovation — from the context of history and current events, we are and have been, a failure.
And I am going to elaborate on this troubling reality, not to needlessly slam the country and its legacy, but because I genuinely want us to be better: more compassionate in our societal and political policymaking, more accepting of and loving toward everyone without exceptions and provisos, more open to progress, more concerned with leaving behind a bright future and a cleaner planet for future generations, more interested in science, more welcoming to immigrants and, perhaps more importantly, more embracing of our central axiom, “all men are created equal.”
Is America a Christian nation?
One of the main ideas that bring many to conclude that America is, indeed, a great nation is the set of principles that many hold dear, namely that the nation was founded on Judeo-Christian values, and by extension, this must make us inherently good. The idea comes mainly from Christian members of the Republican Party, but plenty of Democrats also believe it. Inherent in this argument, of course, is that the country is, by extension, morally upright because, well, how can a nation be founded on Christianity and not be moral?
I could make a completely different post arguing that the central tenets of Christianity, which include scapegoating, or letting someone else pay for the sins of another; compulsory love, God the father demanding that people love him or be threatened with eternal hellfire; and human sacrifice, are, in fact, hideously evil and come down to us from a barbarous age. You can click the links for more of what I’ve already written on the subject. Take these three evils, along with the Bible’s shameful record on mass genocide and slavery, and powerful evidence to conclude that neither Christianity or its god are a source of goodness. It’s actually the other way around. It is the people who believe in Christianity who are good in spite of what their religion teaches in a holy book. Yes, of course, Jesus supposedly said some nice things, but oddly enough, the Republican Party, which routinely claims for itself the moral high ground, has abandoned most of them.
Our second president, John Adams, rejected the idea that the United States was founded on Christianity, and so did our third president, Thomas Jefferson. And so do I.
The Founding Fathers were a mix of deists, Unitarians, Presbyterians and other denominations. The Declaration of Independence, which is not a legal document and shouldn’t be construed as such when arguing about the religiosity of America, contains only a couple vague references to a deity and has no mention of Jesus or Christianity. Almost every public document in this time period contained similar nonspecific references to God. The Constitution includes one reference to God, the customary “in the year of our Lord” sign off at the end, and anyone who claims this — the vaguest reference of all and the closest one can possibly get to having no reference whatsoever — as proof that we are a Christian nation or that the country was established on Judeo-Christian principles is grasping for straws in the dark.
Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration, outright denied the wonderworking power of Jesus, going so far as to reconfigure the Gospels to his liking, leaving what he considered the good parts and cutting out all references to miracles and the supernatural. The other founders were mostly churchgoers, as was pretty much everyone in the 18th century, but nearly all of them hewed to a rather subdued brand of faith than what has been considered evangelical Christianity in the 20th and 21st centuries.
The First Amendment statute to protect people’s ability to worship, or not, as they saw fit was important to Jefferson and the other founders. As Jefferson said in a letter to Elbridge Gerry in 1799, “I am for freedom of religion, and against all maneuvers to bring about a legal ascendancy of one sect over another.” Jefferson was said to have rejoiced when a proposal to insert “Jesus Christ” into the Virginia Statute preamble was defeated.
(Freedom of religion was) meant to comprehend, within the mantle of it’s (sic) protection, the Jew and the Gentile, the Christian and Mahometan, the Hindoo and infidel of every denomination.
It is incontrovertible that we are now, as we were then, a Christian-majority nation, but the United States is obviously composed of many other religions and faith traditions, along with an increasing number of atheists, agnostics and non-churchgoers. According to the Pew Research Center, the number of people in America who are irreligious has grown from less than 10 percent in the 1970s to 26 percent in the last couple years.
Nonetheless, it is still very difficult for anyone who does not openly profess their Christianity to get elected to public office. Even John F. Kennedy, who took a lot of heat just for being Catholic — in the mind of many evangelicals, he wasn’t the right “kind” of Christian — refused to allow his faith to influence his public duty to the nation.
During a speech to the Greater Houston Ministerial Association in 1960, Kennedy said:
I am not the Catholic candidate for president. I am the Democratic Party’s candidate for president, who happens also to be a Catholic. I do not speak for my church on public matters, and the church does not speak for me.
So yes, Christianity is still the dominant religion in America, and probably will be for decades to come, especially in the Republican Party. To this day, while many Democrats are certainly Christian, they tend to deemphasize their faith when it comes to making decisions, except in vague references to God in speeches or prayers, whereas Republicans usually wear their faith on the sleeves and openly use religion to influence how they govern, even though many of their own constituents do not follow the same faith.
To say that we are founded on Christianity full-stop, however, is to deny reality. Not only were we not established as such — our founding had more to do with the Enlightenment, governing principles from the motherland and political philosophy far predating the Revolutionary Era — we’re not a particularly moral nation either, and we never have been.
Make America … Good Again?
I have outlined why we aren’t a Christian nation or a good nation based on the dominant religion. What about based on history? I’m afraid the nation also gets an F in that category. Here’s a far-from-exhaustive laundry list of our “sins” (The word “sins” is in quotes because the idea of “sin” is a construct of religion, but it has value here in showing the seriousness of our collective crimes).
The United States and the founders protected the extension of slavery for 20 extra years in the Constitution. Many of the founders owned at least one slave. John Adams, bless his soul, owned none.
Our government subjugated native Americans after the colonists arrived and killed off many of them with guns and European diseases.
The nation fought a bloody war over the right of the South to continue the institution of chattel slavery, on which its economy was built, and at one time, the entire national economy, which was largely built on the backs of black folks. The North as well as the South profited from the “peculiar institution.”
After Ulysses S. Grant, William T. Sherman and Co. crushed the rebellion, slavery by a new name called the Reconstruction was established by which many black people in the South returned to their previous subservient positions.
On Good Friday, of all days, Abraham Lincoln, the man who brought emancipation to 4 million black people, was murdered by a racist named John Wilkes Booth, thus punctuating the fact that bigotry and sympathy for the Southern cause was alive and well after thousands fought and died for four years defending both.
After a brief flicker of democracy in the late 19th century when black men in America got the right to vote, Jim Crow took root. A full 100 years passed — replete with voter suppression, segregation and lynchings — from the end of the Civil War to the Civil Rights Act of 1964 when discrimination at the polls and segregation in schools and public places were officially outlawed, much to the chagrin of racists everywhere, like Strom Thurmond of South Carolina, who would be revered by conservatives in my home state for decades to come.
One of the brightest beacons of love, hope and equality the nation had ever seen was extinguished on April 4, 1968, handing racism yet another victory in the long, frustrating and bloody march toward ultimate emancipation. Martin Luther King Jr. brought a message of peace and solidarity among all men and women, and he was killed for it.
Americans watched and laughed at shows like, “The Jeffersons,” “Sanford and Son” and “Good Times,” and perhaps some people secretly thought, “We’re making progress on race” now that all these black folks are getting high-profile spots on television. Meanwhile, systemic racism took hold across the next five decades, no longer the bold, firebrand bigotry of old, but the more insidious, viral kind that seeps into schools, police stations, courthouses and public seats of power. The federal government, state governments and local municipalities were all complicit.
America watched with either horror, vague sympathy or apathy as Rodney King was beaten in the early 1990s by cops in Los Angeles. In the subsequent years, Americans watched as unarmed black person after unarmed black person was either choked out or gunned down by overzealous or racist police officers. Many of us stood with Black Lives Matter and demanded change in the justice system. Many of us, far too many of us, however, did nothing. Many of us, like the current president, stoked racial tensions, and many of us dug in our heels on how our whiteness was superior to their blackness. Many of us turned our backs on our fellow Americans, and we abandoned whatever moral compass we thought we had, and by doing so, we abandoned our own humanity. No less than 21 race riots have occurred in this country since 1978.
At the same time the BLM matter demonstrations have been occurring, we have seen the true colors of a disturbingly large segment of the population, most of them claiming to be Christians and Republicans, yet apparently caring little for their own health or for the safety and well-being of their fellow citizens by refusing to wear face masks. Racism has brought the nation the most shame throughout history, but anti-intellectualism and selfishness is closely behind.
These grievances and trespasses against morality and ethics, among a people who declare so vigorously that faith, which they say is at the very center of morality, is such an important part of our lives and the national conscience, only cover issues related to race.
If we, as a nation, actually cared about people, we would have already made sure to take whatever steps necessary to end or drastically reduce hunger, poverty and homelessness.
If we, as a nation, actually care about people, we would have already happily accepted a little more in the way of taxes to ensure that every person has access to free health care. We would have already neutered the unfair and grossly mismanaged insurance industry. We would have already placed stop-gaps on the pharmaceutical industry’s runaway price-gouging practices.
Like Canada and many Western European nations, we would have already put in place a string of provisions that improve the health of well-being of every person in the country, not just white people or privileged people or rich people. If we, as a nation, actually cared about people, we would have already rooted out each politician, Republican or Democrat, who did not support the basic rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness that every American should enjoy. It is a near impossibility to pursue any of them without fundamental things like safety, health and a fair wage.
That said, imagine Jesus looking out over the multitude of 5,000 hungry people before him, which, if the story even took place, was probably more like 10,000 or 15,000 because women and children didn’t count as people. Imagine Jesus seeing the people holding out their baskets in quiet desperation to sate their gnawing appetite. Imagine that he opens his mouth and says, “I can help you, but I won’t. You will have to fend for yourselves,” as he turns away and leaves them to languish in starvation and destitution. From a political standpoint, by failing to meet people’s basic needs with all the resources in the world to make it happen, this is essentially what we have done.
In ethical terms, we’re starving. We are supposedly the richest and most sought-after nation in the world, yet we routinely fail the most vulnerable among us. We fail the working class. We fail the poor. We fail the sick. We fail the uninsured. We fail immigrants. We fail children. And most of all, we fail black people. And we have failed every single one of these groups of Americans under the leadership of people who say they are Christians. This is even more true with evangelical Republican politicians, many of whom have presided over some of the most callous and harmful pieces of legislation the nation has ever seen in our 244-year history.
How good are we, really? How much do we, as a nation, actually care about people? I don’t mean some people. I mean all people. How has our status as a supposedly “Christian nation” moved the needle? It has not, and in some cases, it has moved the needle in the wrong direction.
I don’t offer any easy prescriptions; I am simply diagnosing the illness. The cure can be found in doing the opposite of all that I have laid out: in continuing to fight systemic racism, firebrand racism and subtle racism; in establishing compassionate economic and sociopolitical policies that raise all of the boats in society; in following the path of science and free inquiry; and in abandoning anti-intellectualism once and for all. When religion in the United States peters out or becomes irrelevant — and it will one day — the path forward toward a more just and ethical society will be found in secular humanism.
“A bill is coming in that I fear America is not prepared to pay. ‘The problem of the twentieth century,’ wrote W.E.B. Du Bois around sixty years ago, ‘is the problem of the color line.’ A fearful and delicate problem, which compromises, when it does not corrupt, all the American efforts to build a better world — here, there, or anywhere.” — James Baldwin, “The Fire Next Time,” 1962
***
I barely know where to start. As if the grim reality that more than 100,000 Americans have died from COVID-19, and more than 370,000 worldwide, wasn’t heart-wrenching enough, to see the collective pain and racial unrest across the nation after the murder of George Floyd (and many other black victims of police brutality) at the hands of an overzealous, white cop, has left me in a state of despair and, frankly, hopelessness that things will change any time soon.
My feelings on the current state of affairs barely register on the scale of what it must be like — I can never know and won’t pretend to know — to live in constant fear that your body or the bodies of your friends or family members could be broken — in the year 2020, in the “greatest nation in the world.” That line is in quotes because we are, as it has been proven over and over, by our collective apathy, by our arrogance, by our selfishness, by our disregard for the interests and safety of black people in America, by our failure to reform the justice system, by our failure to hold people in power accountable and by our negligence, that we are far from the greatest nation in the world. In fact, I’m not sure we even rise to the level of “good” by the scale and scope at which we have utterly failed to protect our fellow citizens and our fellow human beings.
I’m aware of my place in this as a white male who grew up in the South. I’m aware that I can’t escape my upbringing, and I can’t escape the white guilt that comes with it. A white person growing up in the South in the 1980s could hardly escape the legacy of racism and bigotry that is almost soaked into the soil in places like Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia and my home state of South Carolina. The blood and sweat of slaves during the American Civil War and those who suffered and died during Reconstruction is, indeed, literally soaked into the soil.
I’m also aware of the impulse of white liberals to want to swoop in and “save” black people. A white firebrand named John Brown, who was a domestic terrorist for his half-cocked plan to invade the federal stronghold at Harper’s Ferry and for his murderous escapades in Kansas three years earlier, thought of himself as the literal savior of slaves in the run-up to the Civil War, donning the “armor of God” to overthrow the system of slavery. Unfortunately, God couldn’t protect him from the noose after he and his co-conspirators were caught. In any case, Brown’s actions paved the way for the coming war, and he is largely credited with having “seeded civil rights,” in the words of his biographer David S. Reynolds.
A term, “white savior industrial complex,” was coined in 2012 by novelist Teju Cole, who said WSIC refers to the “confluence of practices, processes, and institutions that reify historical inequities to ultimately validate white privilege” and that it includes a “big emotional experience that validates privilege.”
Ultimately, people are rewarded from “saving” those less fortunate and are able to completely disregard the policies they have supported that have created/maintained systems of oppression (i.e. The U.S.’s exploitation in Haiti has contributed to poverty and corruption, yet Americans can feel good about their charity after the Earthquake). The rhetoric around how Americans often talk about Africa—as a continent of chaos, warthirsty people, and impoverished HIV-infected communities, situates these countries as places in need of heroism. This mindset perpetuates the need for external forces to come in and save the day, but what gets left out of this conversation are the roles settler colonialism and white supremacy have had in creating these conditions in the first place.
So, extending this to current circumstances in America, what’s at play here with the saviorism concept is that white people can feel good about sympathizing with the plight of black people, and even support causes that bolster black lives either physically or financially — all the while assuaging their sense of white guilt — but the underlying problems that created the conditions of inequality and injustice remain unaddressed, whatever good intentions white people had at the onset.
Some in the black community have rejected the notion of having “white allies” outright if it does not work in tandem with requisite political change and the annihilation of whiteness itself as a construct.
In a blistering critique of white saviorism, Gyasi Lake, for the Black Youth Project, wrote last year:
In a reality where whiteness affords you the luxury of choosing whether or not to leverage your privilege and be revered uncritically, despite glaring flaws, Blackness can never flourish. Until whiteness is dismantled indefinitely, white voices will continue to be elevated and championed above the voices of the most marginalized communities.
The revolution can’t be sponsored and/or acceptable to those we are revolting against.
As a student at Clemson University, I took a course that addressed this very subject called “Whiteness in America.” One of the authors we explored was Noel Ignatiev, whose book, “Race Traitor,” argued that “whiteness” should be abolished altogether and that white people should eschew opportunities to use their privilege to their advantage. Race, for sure, is nothing more than a construct.
As James Baldwin said in “The Fire Next Time”:
Color is not a human or a personal reality; it is a political reality. But this is a distinction so extremely hard to make that the West has not been able to make it yet. And at the center of this dreadful storm, this vast confusion, stand the black people of this nation, who must now share the fate of a nation that has never accepted them, to which they were brought in chains. Well, if this is so, one has no choice but to do all in one’s power to change that fate, and at no matter what risk — eviction, imprisonment, torture, death.
We now have a disturbingly long and terrible list of black people who were victimized by police brutality or negligence and who did not deserve to die. They include (far from comprehensive):
George Floyd
Breonna Taylor
Ahmaud Arbery
Trayvon Martin
Eric Garner
Dreasjon “Sean” Reed
Philando Castile
Jamar Clark
Botham Jean
Michael Brown
Freddie Gray
Ezell Ford
Tamir Rice
Laquan McDonald
Michelle Shirley
Redel Jones
Kenney Watkins
Stephon Clark
Compounded with these outright injustices, there is a long list of families in the inner city who live under the weight of a system of housing, justice and welfare that do not serve to make their lives better. In many cases, their lives are worse because of systemic racism that now threatens to rot the core of democracy. Indeed, policies under both administrations, but especially the Republicans, during the last five decades have failed to provide adequate and affordable health care and family support services for low-income families, have failed to make the inner cities safe, have failed to root out drugs, have failed to get guns off the street and have failed to offer compassionate economic policies that lift all of the boats, failures that can not be absolved with a $1,200 check. In fact, policies that prop up the rich and benefit inanimate corporations and Wall Street have been put in place at the expense of low-income Americans. And because we have failed the inner cities and because we have failed black people and because we have failed immigrants and because we have failed to take care of the poor and disabled among us, we have failed as a nation, and we have failed as human beings.
After Barack Obama was elected president, some people were ready to declare that racism in America was a thing of the past, but as we have seen, it hasn’t gone away, and maybe it hasn’t even diminished. The period between the Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s was something of a wandering in the desert for black folks. Black men finally got the vote through the 15th amendment in 1870, and some were even able to win public office, but thanks to the Ku Klux Klan and other fireeaters in the South, black people were intimidated and forced by compulsion to stay away from the polls. Ulysses S. Grant left the presidency after two terms, and Reconstruction fell apart. Civil rights would essentially be at a standstill until the mid-20th century, and former plantation owners in the South simply re-subjugated their former slaves.
The civil rights movement under the leadership of Martin Luther King Jr., John Lewis and many others, including a coalition of white supporters, experienced a watershed moment with passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Lyndon Baines Johnson’s Great Society social reform programs in the mid-1960s. The nation showed promise as we were seemingly poised to finally address poverty, economic disparity and social inequality. Unfortunately, while many of LBJ’s programs remain in place to this day, the project of improving life in the inner city fell by the wayside in the late 1970s and early 80s with the introduction of the supposed “War on Drugs,” the gradual privatization of prisons and tougher sentencing regulations for nonviolent drug offenses. These, coupled with a host of policies by conservative lawmakers that bolstered the rich at the expense of low-income workers led to the conditions by which inner city black Americans not only felt economic pressures just trying to make ends meet, but racial tensions and built-in, generational animosity among white people about new rights afforded to black folks, was a noxious recipe for a gathering storm of racial unrest that has spilled across the last four decades.
So, when Obama was elected as the first black president in the nation’s history, the racists and bigots, who briefly came out of hiding to dabble in the newly formed Tea Party in support of John McCain and Sarah Palin, scurried back into their basements to listen to Rush Limbaugh, Mark Levin, Glenn Beck and the myriad other far-right conservative voices on talk radio at the time.
Thus, the legacy of racism and prejudice in America is bound up with politics, and at the core, while some racism may be learned or is generational, some of it comes from white animosity that stems from the Civil Rights Era, animosity that is completely unfounded since America was built on the idea of white supremacy and privilege, ideologies by which many in power still operate. White people have always been in charge and have held all the cards.
Just because I am writing about racial injustice and care about black lives doesn’t mean I’m immune from the perils of white saviorism or privilege. As such, I must continually remind myself that I write from a privileged position inside my white skin.
That said, I, like many white people protesting alongside black people, want to help in the cause of reforming the police and the criminal justice system, ending systemic racism and discrimination and holding malevolent officers accountable for their actions. We need extremely harsh sentences for cops who wantonly kill black people with overzealous, dehumanizing behavior. We need every cop to have a body camera, one that they cannot deactivate. We need to end the militarization of police. Studies have shown that militarized policemen only fuel unrest. We need policies that, once and for all, bolster the inner city and increase educational opportunities for children. And people who display hateful or racist behavior need to be marginalized to the fringes of society. There is no place for them in modern America; for, we, white people, must take the following posture in solidarity: when racists speak ill of black people, they speak ill of me and this nation. There can be no tolerance for racism in 2020.
And at the very least, I want to raise awareness about the problems we face as a nation, provide some historical context and support my fellow human beings. Because of my health situation, I’m unable to get out and protest, but will continue to advocate for black lives, for justice and for equality.
The time for change is now — “the fierce urgency of now.”
Since at least 2011, I have, along with a former co-worker, kept a list of books completed each year, along with dates, the number of pages per book and the number of pages per year. My cohort has since changed jobs and moved to a different state (as have I), so we haven’t really continued what I previously dubbed as our friendly office read-off between the two of us, but I have continued my own list. Here’s a brief recap: In 2012, I read about 5,000 pages, and in 2013, the total came to 7,616. Last year, I managed 7,925 pages.
This year, since I haven’t had the influence of Blake in my ear five days a week in quite awhile — he seemed to inspire me to read more nonfiction — I have reverted, if “reverted” is the right word, to my old ways of reading more fiction than history, but I still mixed in several substantive nonfiction works. My favorite nonfiction book for 2015 was “Ratification” by Pauline Maier (my second reading), and in fiction, my pick is “O Lost” by Thomas Wolfe, which is the unabridged version of “Look Homeward, Angel,” the epic semiautobiographical work set in a fictionalized Asheville, N.C.
The reason I have continued keeping a detailed list of books, including dates and page counts is because it challenges me to try to read more each year, and I can track how specific interests have changed over time. Following is my list for this year — I just finished my last book today — and for posterity’s sake, I’ll go ahead and post lists for the previous four years, with page totals, completion dates, etc.
2015
1. “Game of Thrones” Book II by George R.R. Martin; started November 2014; did not finish by Dec. 31; 194 pages in 2015.
2. “Demons” by Fyodor Dostoevsky; started Jan. 10, 2014; finished Jan. 25; 681 pages.
3. “Dark Bargains: Slavery, Profits, and the Struggle for the Constitution” by Lawrence Goldstein; started Jan. 21; finished Jan. 31; 195 pages.
4. “Ratification” by Pauline Maier; started Jan. 31; finished Feb. 25; 768 pages.
5. “The Ghost Writer” by Phillip Roth; started Feb. Feb. 21; finished Feb. 24 (?); 131 pages.
6. “Giants” by John Stauffer; started Feb. 28; finished March 14; 314 pages.
7. “Dreams from My Father” by Barack Obama; started March; finished early April; 442 pages.
8. “The Call of Cthulhu” by H.P. Lovecraft; started April 18; finished April 29; 360 pages.
9. “Blindness” by Jose Saramago; started about April 30; finished May 4; 326 pages.
10. “American Gospel: God, the Founding Fathers and the Making of a Nation; started May 5; finished May 10; 250 pages.
11. “Underworld” by Don DeLillo; started May 10; June 6; 830 pages.
12. “Between the World and Me” by Ta-Nehisi Coates; started Aug. 15; finished Aug. 16; 98 pages.
13. “Game of Thrones: A Storm of Swords” (Book III) by George R.R. Martin; started June 6; finished Aug. 30; 1,261 pages.
14. “The Selfish Gene” by Richard Dawkins; started Aug. 23; finished Sept. 13; 368 pages.
15. “O Lost” by Thomas Wolfe; started Sept. 6; finished Oct. 22; 662 pages.
16. “The Secret History” by Donna Tartt; started late October; finished Dec. 6; 559 pages.
17. “Flags in the Dust” by William Faulkner; started Dec. 20; finished Dec. 31; 433 pages.
Total: 7,872; average per book: 463.
2014
1. “War of the Worlds” by H.G. Wells; started Jan. 1; finished Jan. 9; 160 pages.
2. “House of Leaves” by Mark Z. Danielewski; started Jan. 3; finished Jan. 29; 662 pages.
3. “All On Fire” by Henry Mayer; started Jan. 30; finished March 9; 632 pages.
4. “The Planets” by Dava Sobel; started March 10; finished March 17; 231 pages.
5. “Hamilton, Adams, Jefferson” by Darren Staloff; started March 17; finished April 6; 361 pages.
7. “The Captured: A True Story of Abduction by Indians on the Texas Frontier” by Scott Zesch; started April 9; finished April 20; 300 pages.
8. “The Pillars of the Earth” by Ken Follet; started March 16; finished May 25; 973 pages.
9. “Letter to a Christian Nation” by Sam Harris; started May 25; finished May 26; 114 pages.
10. “A Manuel for Creating Atheists” by Peter Boghossian; started (?); finished in April; 280 pages.
11. “Beyond the River” by Ann Hagedorn; started late April; finished May 27; 279 pages.
12. “The Story of Edgar Sawtelle” by David Wroblewski; started June 1 (?); finished July 22; 640 pages.
13. “Novus Ordo Seclorum” by Forrest McDonald; started July 23; finished summer 2014; 293 pages.
14. “Possession” by A.S. Byatt; started September; finished Sept. 27; 555 pages.
15. “Needful Things” by Stephen King; started summer 2014; finished Oct. 5; 736 pages.
16. “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov; started October 2014; finished October 2014; 309 pages.
17. “Game of Thrones” Book I by George R.R. Martin; started November 2014; finished Dec. 11; 862 pages.
18. “Intruders in the Dust” by William Faulkner; 227 pages.
19. “Game of Thrones” Book II by George R.R. Marti; started November 2014; did not finish by Dec. 20; 611 pages.
Total: 7,925; average per book: 417.
2013
1. “Cleopatra: A Life” by Stacy Schiff; started Jan. 1; finished Jan. 20; 324 pages.
2. “Reconstruction” by Eric Foner; started Jan. 21 (?); finished March 31; 612 pages.
3. “The Oedipus Cycle” by Sophocles; finished April 7; 251 pages.
4. “Why I Am Not A Christian” by Bertrand Russell; started March; finished April 7; 259 pages.
5. “The Portable Nietzsche,” edited and translated by Walter Kaufmann; started April 6; finished May 6; 687 pages.
6. “Absalom, Absalom!” by William Faulkner; started May 7; finished June 5; 303 pages.
7. “The History of White People” by Nell Irvin Painter; started May 7; finished June 29; 396 pages.
8. “Judgment Days” by Nick Kotz; started July 20; 434 pages.
9. “Big Chief Elizabeth” by Giles Milton; started July 20; finished Aug. 16; 344 pages.
10. “The Fiery Trial” by Eric Foner; started Aug. 14; finished Sept. 8; 336 pages.
11. “The Negro Classics” by Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Dubois and James Weldon Johnson; started Sept. 28; finished Oct. 4; 511 pages.
12. “V.” by Thomas Pynchon; started Sept. 8; finished Sept. 28; 533 pages.
13. “Half Slave and Half Free” by Bruce Levin; started Oct. 4; finished 6; 255 pages.
14. “The Dante Club” by Matthew Pearl; started Oct. 5; finished Oct. 10; 380 pages.
15. “Six Women of Salem” by Marilynne K. Roach; started Oct. 13; finished Oct. 26; 400 pages.
16. “God and Gold: Britain, America, and the Making of the Modern World” by Walter Russell Mead; started Oct. 27; finished Nov. 13; 413 pages.
17. “Vineland” by Thomas Pynchon.; started Nov. 15; finished Dec. 1; 385 pages.
18. “Go Down, Moses” by William Faulkner; started Dec. 1; finished Dec. 11; 383 pages.
19. “The Time Machine” by H.G. Wells; started Dec. 9; finished Dec. 13; 104 pages.
20. “Morgan: American Financier” by Jean Strouse; started Dec. 14; finished Dec. 31; 689 pages.
Total: 7,616; average per book: 381.
2012
1. “Grant” by Jean Edward Smith; finished late January; 428 pages (628 total, 200 pages read in 2011).
2. “The Killer Angels” by Michael Shaara; finished Feb. 12; 374 pages.
3. “General Lee’s Army: From Victory To Collapse” by Joseph Glatthaar; 475 pages.
4. “This Mighty Scourge” by James McPherson; 272 pages.
5. “State of Denial” by Bob Woodward; finished April 2; 491 pages.
6. “The Greatest Show On Earth” by Richard Dawkins; started late March; finished May 13; 437 pages.
7. “Madison and Jefferson” by Andrew Burstein and Nancy Isenberg; started May 16; finished July 21; 644 pages.
8. “From the Temple to the Castle” by Lee Morrissey; started May 13; finished July 22; 144 pages.
9. “Lyndon B. Johnson and American Liberalism” by Bruce Scheulman; started mid-July; finished Aug. 19; 245 pages.
10. “You Can’t Go Home Again” by Thomas Wolfe; started Aug. 19; finished Oct. 10; 743 pages.
11. “Grant and Sherman” by Charles Flood; started Oct. 10; finished Nov. 7; 402 pages.
12. “The American Civil War” by John Keegan; started Aug. 19; finished Dec. 31.
Total: 5020; average per book: 418.
2011
1. “Positivist Republic: Auguste Comte and the Reconstruction of American Liberalism, 1865-1920” by Gillis Harp; 264 pages.
2. “Letter to a Christian Nation” by Sam Harris (reread); 114 pages.
3. “John Brown, Abolitionist: The Man Who Killed Slavery, Sparked the Civil War, and Seeded Civil Rights” by David S. Reynolds; 592 pages.
4. “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho; 165 pages.
5. “Middlemarch: A Study of Provincial Life” by George Eliot; 794 pages.
6. “1491;” 403 pages.
7. “Thomas Jefferson Vs. Religious Oppression;” 150 pages.
8. “Night” by Elie Weisel; 120 pages.
9. “1421: The Year China Discovered America” by Gaven Menzies; finished in the spring; 491 pages.
10. “From Sea to Shining Sea: From the War of 1812 to the Mexican War, the Saga of America’s Expansion” by Robert Leckie; finished in late spring; 623 pages.
11. “The Religious Life of Thomas Jefferson” by Charles B. Sanford; finished in summer; 179 pages.
12. “Tried by War: Abraham Lincoln as Commander in Chief” by James McPherson; finished in summer; 384 pages.
13. “Slave Religion: The ‘Invisible Institution in the Antebellum South” by Albert Raboteau; finished in summer; 321 pages.
14. “Lyndon Johnson and the Great Society” by John Andrew III; finished in August; 199 pages.
15. “Union 1812: The Americans who Fought the Second War of Independence” by A.J. Langguth; finished Sept. 7; 409 pages.
16. “Ratification: The People Debate the Constitution, 1787-1788” by Pauline Maier; finished Oct. 2; 489 pages.
17. “The Federalist Papers” by Madison, Hamilton and Jay; finished Oct. 30; 527 pages.
18. “Freethinkers: A History of American Secularism” by Susan Jacoby; 370 pages.
19. “The Theory of the Leisure Class” by Thorstein Veblen; 400 pages.
20. “Erewhon” by Samuel Butler; 260 pages.
21. “The Anti-Federalists: Critics of the Constitution 1781-1788” by Jackson Turner Main; 286 pages.
22. “Grant” by Jean Edward Smith; 200 pages, (628 total, 428 in 2012).
I have “microblogged” a couple things on Facebook the last couple days, as I have been out of town and have not had much time to spend on the site. In the next couple posts, I’ll provide a few thoughts on the tragic church shooting in Charleston and the ongoing and seemingly perennial Confederate flag controversy in my home state of South Carolina. If you would like to follow me on Facebook, I can be found here.
First, a lot of friends from my home state have been chiming in on the Confederate flag issue, and most, but certainly not all, at least among my circle of acquaintances, have been symptathetic to the argument that at this point in the history of the South, the Confederate flag is, at best, a relic and should take its rightful place in a museum, and not on the State House grounds.
Here is the main part of a post from Facebook user Josh Roberts, reposted by former high school classmate, with which I agree wholeheartedly:
… I have two main points to make:
1: the flag simply makes our friends and neighbors feel like shit. To have it flying on the grounds of our seat of government, right there on Gervais St, makes many of our fellow citizens feel, and rightly so, that THEIR history of violent oppression, some of which Alan detailed, is being ignored and devalued. What our black brothers and sisters feel about that flag is very real. And how are they supposed to feel when the state they’re citizens of so flagrantly waves their pain in their faces? History is fascinating and exciting, and it’s who we are, but it’s just that: history. It simply doesn’t belong flying on the state house grounds, because it is so divisive. The Confederate Relic Room is right down the street. The State Museum is right down the street. History books are in every school. Everybody knows about the Confederacy, and that’s not going to change. Just don’t have it on a flagpole at the State House. The US flag and the SC flag are the only ones that belong there.
2. I’m sorry this may come across rudely, but I don’t mean it that way. You are not being “ethnically cleansed.” Here’s the Wikipedia definition. Ethnic cleansing is the systematic forced removal of ethnic or religious groups from a given territory by a more powerful ethnic group, with the intent of making it ethnically homogeneous.[1] The forces applied may be various forms of forced migration (deportation, population transfer), intimidation, as well as mass murder.
That’s not happening to us white southerners. It just isn’t. No one is trying to wipe the world clean of us.
No one is even trying to stop you from flying the Confederate flag at your house, or putting a bumper sticker on your car, or going to a reenactment, or studying the war, or celebrating your ancestors’ bravery. I celebrate mine. No one is trying to stop you from being interested in The Civil War. I signed a petition to take the flag from the State House grounds, not from you.
I urge you to understand the past, but look to the future. We have to move forward with empathy and compassion, together with all the races. To me, an important step to the future is to take down a pretty big symbolic obstacle to the unity we desperately need. …
The anniversaries of noteworthy historical events come and go all the time, but I would be remiss if I didn’t note that 150 years ago today, Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox Court House in Virginia.
APPOMATTOX COURT HOUSE — Walk along the red dirt remnants of the Richmond-to-Lynchburg stagecoach road here, the quarter-mile from a tiny Confederate cemetery to the place of surrender in a private parlor, and carry with you the thought of Robert E. Lee. Astride his horse Traveler and dressed in a resplendent uniform, the lionized general rode away from Appomattox on this road on a Palm Sunday 150 years ago finally beaten, a knot of Union officers silently saluting him, his starving Confederate soldiers giving him a rousing cheer as he approached, then crumbling to the ground in sobs as he passed.
Think of Ulysses S. Grant, in a soldier’s shirt, spackled with mud, riding this road after writing and presenting to Lee the simple, generous terms of a surrender that would begin the generations-long process of binding the nation’s wounds, this the same man who had to corral personal demons of the bottle before conquering the rebels in battle.
Yet on your short walk amid the scent of fresh-cut hay, carry also in your reflections Jesse H. Hutchins, an infantryman who enlisted in the Confederate army days after the opening blasts of Fort Sumter, survived through four years and dozens of such brutal battles as Gettysburg, gave the last of his loyalty, in vain, during a skirmish on this battlefield, and lay now in that small cemetery, about 400 paces from the place of surrender and 690 miles from his Alabama home.
Mythologized figures haunt this land. Yet, the story of our Civil War and its climax are often best revealed in the hopes and horrors of the grunt soldier, the anxious townswoman, the slave. ….
And as David Blight, with The Atlantic tells us, the work started in the Civil War, the struggle for true civil rights and the final realization, in both theory and practice, that “all men are created equal” is not complete.
Allen West reported to us on July 29 that he enjoys the chance he has to “educate, edify, and challenge us all to think beyond the obvious.” He then takes exception with a statement that President Barack Obama made about Muslims, namely, thanking Muslims for their
achievements and contributions … to building the very fabric of our nation and strengthening the core of our democracy.
West invites us to “scour the annals of history” to look for instances in which Muslims have contributed to American history in this way. He picks up here:
I’d like some audience participation here. Please share what you think are the “achievements and contributions” for which we should all thank Muslim Americans in building the very fabric of our nation? Oh – and don’t forget “common values” — please share those as well.
I’ll go first. And I’ll go way back. I know Abraham was the father of all nations and he was Isaac and Ishmael’s dad. And in Genesis 16:11-12, (NIV) “The angel of the Lord also said to her (Hagar): You are now pregnant and you will give birth to a son. You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery. He will be a wild donkey of a man; his hand will be against everyone and everyone’s hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers.”
So to Muslims, I say thank you for being a part of the Judeo-Christian foundation that established this great nation. And I am thankful for this Bible verse so I understand God’s blessing upon what would ultimately lead to the growth of violent jihad.
The claim here, dubious at best, is that Ishmael was the ancestor of Arabs, and thus, a progenitor of Muslims, who will collectively and by extension “be against everyone and everyone’s hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers,” as is the perception of radical Muslims.
In any case, Obama’s statement was obviously was not to be taken literally that Muslims were present and participated in the founding of the nation in 1787 — that’s absurd — just that they contributed to strengthening the modern democracy and cultural diversity that is the United States, which provides for the inclusion of people of all religions and all backgrounds, a doctrine which, as it happens, is the fabric of our nation.
Below are the results of the 2013 office read-off between Blake and myself. Blake’s details are listed as page count, publication year and date completed. Details for my list are shown by the start and finish date and page count. I have provided links for the works we thought were the strongest.
Blake
“George Washington’s War” — Robert Leckie, 660, 1992, 1/19