HE United States is only now beginning to recover from
the Confederacy's ideological victory following the Civil War.
Though the South lost the battles, for more than a century it
attained its goal: that the role of slavery in America's history be
thoroughly diminished, even somehow removed as a cause of the war.
The reconciliation of North and South required a national
repudiation of Reconstruction as "a disastrous mistake"; a
wide-ranging white acceptance of "Negro inferiority" and of white
supremacy in the South; and a distorted view of slavery as an
unfortunate but benign institution that was damaging for whites
morally but helped civilize and Christianize "African savages."
The current national debate about slavery and its role in
American history is finally forcing not only a discussion of
reparations, but, more important, a re- examination of the
long-accepted message conveyed by respected white scholars whose
textbooks on slavery, the Civil War and Reconstruction were still
being assigned to college students in the 1950's and even later. It
was the message reinforced at countless Memorial Day celebrations,
where white Union and Confederate veterans shook hands and recalled
their collective heroism, while survivors of the 200,000 black Union
soldiers and sailors crucial in helping win the war were not
welcome. It was the message bestowed on the white veterans by
Woodrow Wilson, the first Southerner elected president after the
Civil War, during the huge 50th reunion at Gettysburg in 1913.
Consider that Wilson's most beloved film was the popular "The
Birth of a Nation," of 1915, which glorified the Ku Klux Klan and
depicted freed male slaves as beasts lusting after white women; and
that the later big commercial success about the South was the 1936
novel and 1939 film "Gone With the Wind," which romanticized the
region as a victim of an unjust war. (Of course, the relatively few
black historians had a different view.)
Partly as a result of this denial of slavery's centrality in
American history, few Americans today know that black bondage had
long been legal in all 13 colonies when the American Revolution
began. Indeed, black slavery also flourished in 16th-century Mexico,
Peru and Brazil. In the 17th century, it made possible factorylike
plantations in the British, French, Danish and Dutch Caribbean -- the
center of wealth in the Western Hemisphere, as slave-grown sugar and
tobacco became the first luxury goods for an international mass
market. In fact, in 1688, Governor Denonville of French Canada wrote
to King Louis XIV, begging him to end the manpower shortage by
authorizing shipments of African slaves. Though France granted
permission, Canada could not afford the high prices of prized
African slaves paid in the South. In 1716, a high Canadian official
attributed the success of New York and New England to black slave
labor, and insisted Canada could vie for the profitable West Indies
markets if given credit to buy more slaves.
While no New World colony began with a blueprint for becoming a
slave society, the entire Western Hemisphere had become implicated
by the paradox of trying to reconcile racial slavery with
aspirations to escape the sins of the Old World. If some Africans
abetted this by enslaving and making available millions of cheap
laborers, it was Western European and then American entrepreneurs
who exploited it. From the 1440's, when the Portuguese began
transporting black slaves to Iberia, to the 1860's, when the illegal
slave trade to Cuba finally came to an end, Africa exported an
estimated 11 million slaves.
AFTER decades of research, historians are only now beginning to
grasp the complex interdependencies of a society enmeshed in
slavery. There were shifting interactions among West African
enslavers, sellers and European buyers; European investors in the
slave trade, who ranged from small-town merchants to well-known
figures like the philosophers John Locke and Voltaire; wealthy
Virginian and Brazilian middlemen who purchased large numbers of
Africans off the slave ships to sell to planters; New Englanders who
shipped foodstuffs, timber, shoes and clothing as supplies for
slaves in the South and the West Indies; and, finally, the European
and American consumers of slave-produced sugar, rum, rice, cotton,
tobacco, indigo (for dyes), hemp (for rope- making) and other
goods.
Today, it is difficult to understand why slavery was accepted
from prebiblical times in virtually every culture and not seriously
challenged until the late 1700's. But the institution was so basic
that genuine antislavery attitudes required a profound shift in
moral perception. This meant fundamental religious and philosophic
changes in views of human abilities, responsibilities and rights. By
the time of the American Revolution, the isolated critiques of
slavery by early Quakers and philosophers like Montesquieu had begun
to win public support in Britain, France and even some bastions of
slavery, like Virginia. Yet, though the American Revolution
catalyzed the first antislavery movements around the world, slavery
in America was a far stronger institution in 1800 than in 1770 --
largely because of the invention of the cotton gin.
Even most history books fail to convey the extent that the
American government was dominated by slaveholders and proslavery
interests between the inaugurations of Presidents Washington and
Lincoln. Partly because of the clause in the Constitution that gave
the South added political representation for three-fifths of its
slave population, Southern slaveholding presidents governed the
nation for roughly 50 of those 72 years. And four of the six
Northern presidents in that span catered to Southern proslavery
policies. For example, Martin Van Buren, who came from a New York
slaveholding family, sought to undermine the nation's judicial
process and send the captives from the slave ship Amistad back to
Cuba -- and certain death. Millard Fillmore, also from New York,
signed the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, which enforced return of
escaped slaves even from free states.
From the start, America's foreign policy favored slaveholding
interests, and administrations refused to cooperate with efforts by
Britain to suppress the international slave trade, even though the
United States had defined the African slave trade in 1820 as piracy,
a capital crime. The one exception to this proslavery stand was the
support John Adams's administration gave to Toussaint Louverture
during the Haitian Revolution -- both to help the slaves gain freedom
and to expel the French.
There were strong economic reasons for the broad national reach
of American slavery. Though Northerners gradually eliminated slavery
in their states, Southern slave-grown cotton was the nation's
leading export. It powered textile-manufacturing revolutions in both
New England and Europe, and paid for American imports of everything
from steel to capital. In addition, the demand for slave labor in
southwestern states like Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas drove up
slave prices and land values throughout the South. In the 19th
century, slave values more than tripled. By 1860, a young "prime
field hand" in New Orleans would sell for the equivalent of an
expensive car, say a Mercedes-Benz, today. American slaves
represented more capital than any other asset in the nation, with
the exception of land. In 1860, the value of Southern slaves was
about three times the amount invested in manufacturing or railroads
nationwide.
Not surprisingly, the richest Americans were concentrated in the
South, which, in turn, attracted many Northern college graduates and
ministers, who often married into prosperous Southern families. Rich
Southern planters also summered in cooler locales like Boston,
Newport, R.I., and Saratoga, N.Y., where marriages and other
relationships between wealthy Southerners and Northerners reinforced
business alliances based on cotton.
The fortunes of New England manufacturers and New York merchants
increasingly depended on a northward flow of cotton, a fact that
carried the deepest implications for politics as well as banking,
insurance and shipping. The Southern "lords of the lash" forged ever
closer ties with Northern "lords of the loom." For example, as the
owners of major textile mills in Lowell and Lawrence, Mass.,
established cordial relations with Southern planters, it became
increasingly necessary to reassure slaveholders that abolitionists
like William Lloyd Garrison represented a lunatic fringe, and that
Northerners generally agreed that the Constitution prevented any
interference with slavery.
Such reassurances became more difficult, however, after the 1850
Fugitive Slave Law, which was extremely unpopular in the North.
Under its terms, any citizen could be drafted into a posse and any
free black person seized without a jury trial. Then the
Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 seemed to open all the Western
territories to slavery.
Before the Mexican War and the resulting acquisition of a vast
Western territory raised the possibility of an expanding slave
empire, the abolitionist movement appealed to a small minority of
Northern whites, who along with free black abolitionists faced
violent mobs from Ohio to Rhode Island. In the 1830's, it took real
courage to speak out against slavery in the North. Abolitionist
speakers were shunned by "respectable society," even disowned by
family members.
THOUGH these reformers faced rejection at home, they had a
disproportionate influence on the South. Nat Turner's insurrection
in Virginia in 1831 was blamed on abolitionist propaganda.
Southerners grew convinced that slaves only became dangerous if
incited by abolitionists. It was the South's extreme reaction to
this fear, evident in escalating demands to nationalize slavery,
that led to the creation of the North's Republican Party in the
1850's and to President-elect Lincoln's stand against any expansion
of "the peculiar institution."
The Confederacy's ideological victory, which the nation is still
struggling with, would not have been possible without the North's
deeply embedded racism and complicity in repudiating Reconstruction
as an embarrassing failure. This was cited regularly, despite
Reconstruction's many achievements in promoting black suffrage,
education and civil rights. Because most of the Northern white
public was unprepared to face the consequences of slave emancipation
in 1865, it was easy to popularize a new history of America, in
which slavery occupied a far less central role. Beginning in the
1870's, as the price of reconciliation, the North accepted the
demands of Southern whites that they manage "Negroes" as they
pleased -- an acquiescence to an era of lynching and Jim Crow.
Nonetheless, considering that slavery had been globally accepted
for millennia, it is encouraging that people were able to make such
a major shift in their moral view, especially when a cause like
abolition conflicted with strong national economic interests. As the
nation tries in this cynical age to avoid "generational chauvinism"
-- the assumption that the current generation is morally superior to
all past generations -- we can still learn from history the
invaluable lesson that an enormously powerful and profitable evil
can be overcome.
Future historians will need to explain the remarkable recent
upsurge of public interest in slavery and the Civil War. Professors
who confront the hundreds of new scholarly and popular books each
year, to say nothing of the re-enactments of Civil War battles and
slave sales, can only speculate. Certainly the growing black middle
class sees little shame in the old stigma of slave origins and
instead uses it as an opportunity to clarify its own identity.
In this era of relativism, an interest in the debates over
slavery and America's most destructive war can reflect a discontent
with the present, on the part of both blacks and whites, and a
longing for an era when moral issues seemed clear cut. Like World
War II, the Civil War was deemed a "good war," when people fought
for what they believed in. While the slavery era may serve as a
screen on which current conflicts are acted out, the nation is now
freeing itself from the old Confederate-dominated paradigm, and can
finally see the period from 1790 to 1865 as a deeply stained but
defining era in the history of this strange nation.
David
Brion Davis is the director of the Gilder Lehrman Center for the
Study of Slavery, Resistance and Abolition at Yale University.