Teaching “What to the Slave Is the 4th of July?” by Frederick Douglass: A Two-Part Student Led Lesson

Reprinted with permission (https://historyideasandlessons.substack.com/p/teaching-what-to-the-slave-is-the-66e?r=710fi&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web)

Now that Ron DeSantis has caused a widespread walkout by Florida college students defending both their right to diversity and the free exchange of ideas in the classroom, and he virtually outlawed any teaching of conflict in Black history, it is evident that he will run into serious roadblocks in his campaign to rule the whole country with an iron fist. The increasingly cloudy and claustrophobic atmosphere emanating from the formerly sunny state of Florida begs for an eloquent and big-hearted response. The following two-day student-led lesson will introduce American history students to one of our leading intellectuals and, arguably, the greatest speaker of the 19th century: America’s teacher, Frederick Douglass. He never fails to impress.

The assignment I give the students for the first day is to download and read the first 10 pages of “What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July?” They choose one sentence from each page for homework, write it down on a separate sheet of paper, and explain underneath each one why they chose it. They are to read to the end of the top paragraph of the second column of page 10. The students are asked to underline their sentences on the PDF. It is necessary to collect the homework at the beginning of the class in order to make sure each one of them did their own work. Since they had underlined their sentences on the PDF, the students did not need their homework for class. I asked the students to write the first 5 words of those sentences on the blackboard. I picked the students randomly by jumping around asking for their fifth sentence or their first sentence or their eighth sentence and so on. Each student was to sign their name and sit down. Before class I had drawn 10 vertical lines with one horizontal line across the middle, forming 20 boxes on the board for the students to write in. I placed two pieces of chalk under each vertical group of two boxes so that the writing could go faster. The teacher should know the speech inside and out to create an ease of discussion. It makes the class more interesting. While the students were writing the words they had to start at the beginning of their sentence and make sure that no one else had picked the same sentence. From the time the students were entering the class through the writing on the board, I played a song by the Melodians called “By the Rivers of Babylon.”

Once the students had finished writing on the board, they sat down, and I asked literally “Who has comments or questions?” Nothing more: no suggestions or hints. Usually, they remarked how impressed they were by Douglass’ intelligence and language, or they mentioned how understandable the speech was. They found it a shock to read the work of an escaped slave who could write with clarity and on such a high level of complexity. After the comments died down, I would ask the class to turn to page 6 and look at the bold indented passage in the first column. The students recognize the words of the tune they had just listened to. They appeared in the speech from 1852! I played the song again and asked why Douglass had quoted the verse. Some students might have heard the song because their parents or grandparents had played it at home: It is from the soundtrack of the movie “The Harder they Come” from 1972. Alternatively, some might know that it is the Old Testament Psalm 137 that Douglass quoted. I asked if there were any words they did not understand in the passage, or if someone had picked that passage or would like to comment on it, even if they had not picked it. Someone might want to know what Zion was or eventually someone would notice that the exiled Jews were asked to sing one of the songs of Zion, their homeland. Many thousands of Jews were enslaved in Babylon from 586 BCE to about 538 BCE. It was great insult to be asked to sing for their enslavers the students could conclude. Africa is Zion for Douglass someone might say.

Now it was time to begin analyzing the sentences that the members of the class had chosen. As I called on the students to read their sentences, I asked them to point out the page, the column, and first words of the paragraph where the sentence appeared. The students must read slowly and loudly so that the others can get the meaning. “Why did you choose that?” I asked. Often the student explained what it meant but not what attracted them to it. I would ask what they thought or why they liked it or impressed them or not. Sometimes, I would ask who else wanted to comment, but it is not possible to do that more than a few times because there is not enough time in a period to keep discussing one sentence. The students did not often choose the long period sentences that took up whole paragraphs. Most of those we would pick up later because they are the emotional heart of the speech.

When there is time at the end of each class, I asked the students for their favorite sentences and had them read these out loud. The speech is so powerful partly because the rhythm of the words, the internal rhymes and alliterations drive you on. Reading the “Fourth of July Oration” is a real learning experience: Douglass employs grand and deeply affecting rhetoric to illuminate wrongs of slavery. It also shows the great power of the Declaration of Independence despite its obvious hypocrisy. These contradictions have led to tragic cancellations of the Declaration by Nikole Hannah-Jones of The 1619 Project and others. The importance of the study of slavery and of the Declaration has been confused by these journalists who are not trained historians.

In the course of this exposition of my lesson on Douglass’s speech, I will discuss sentences frequently chosen by the students. We had to leave out much of the speech, but what we did in class explored the breadth and depth of the oration giving the students giving them the confidence that they had discussed the work in detail and that they had directed the learning themselves. I had them write a paper on the speech by first summarizing it, choosing 2 ideas in the speech and explaining what each meant and why they were important. They often produced wonderful papers because we had gone over the Oration in sufficient detail. They were comfortable in their interpretations and almost everyone was excited by the assignment. I chose one essay each year to go in our social studies magazine.

Now we are ready to dive into the speech itself.

At the beginning of the Oration, Douglass confesses his trepidations about the task before him. Despite his close relationship with the Rochester Ladies Anti-Slavery Society and the Corinthian Hall, where he had spoken many times, he declared, “The fact is ladies and gentlemen the distance between this platform and the plantation from which I escaped, is considerable. . .  That I am here today is a matter of astonishment as well as gratitude.” The students will know that he was born into slavery. “This, for the purpose of this celebration, is the Fourth of July.” “Why did you choose that?” I asked. The students will realize he is not speaking on July 4th. Instead, he said that he is protesting the day right from the start. Many versions of the speech on the web, in fact, begin with that sentence. He continues, “It is the birthday of your political independence and political freedom,” starkly using the second person plural that he was not speaking of his liberation, but theirs. All this the students can glean after you ask why did you choose that? He then compares the day to Passover when the Jews, the “emancipated people of God,” were delivered from bondage in Egypt. The students will notice that there are numerous quotes from and references to the Bible.

Douglass’ writing is so densely packed that the ideas rush at you as you read. He points out that the country is “young,” only “76 years old,” in 1852; That it is a topic for rejoicing, noting that a young river that can change its course more easily than an old river or a country thousands of years old. He adds that the nation is still in the “impressible stage of its existence . . . Great rivers are not easily torn from their channels worn deep by the ages . . . [but while] refreshing and fertilizing the earth . . . they may also rise in wrath and fury and bear away on their angry waves the accumulated wealth of years toil and hardship. . . As with rivers so with nations.” Recently floods and tornadoes have been ravaging wide swaths of land and forests in nearly every part of the US. From the waters and winds of Hurricane Katrina to the floods of Hurricane Sandy to the fires and droughts in the far West, we have seen unprecedented levels of destruction. Eliciting these resonances with open-ended questions such as why did you choose that or what does that remind you of should be straight forward. At some point in discussing the speech it will be clear that Douglass is setting the context for discussing the effects of the multifarious and wholly predictable dangers of slavery to the body politic of the young nation.

In the second paragraph of the second page, he turns to his duty to the 4th of July itself. Addressing his “Fellow citizens,” he introduces the history of the Revolution explaining that in 1776 “your fathers were British subjects” who “esteemed the English Government as the home government” which “imposed upon…its colonial children such restraints, burdens and limitations…it deemed wise, right and proper.” However, these acts produced a widespread reaction by the future revolutionists not “fashionable in its day” because the colonists did not believe in the “infallibility of government” but “pronounced the measures unjust, unreasonable and oppressive.”

“To side with the right against the wrong, the weak against the strong and with the oppressed against the oppressor! here lies the merit and one which seems unfashionable in our day . . .” Here, is the first burst of eloquence from Frederick Douglass. The internal rhyme and the rhythm of these lines stand out. Douglass could astound the listener in just a few words. His eloquence matched the gravity of the cause. His description of the Stamp Act protests and the protests against the Townshend Acts and the Tea Tax bring us back to the streets and the harbors of our colonial past connecting his listeners to our heritage of activism.

But the colonists “saw themselves treated with sovereign indifference, coldness and scorn . . . As the sheet anchor [heaviest anchor] takes a firmer hold when the ship is tossed by the storm, so did the cause of your fathers grow stronger as it breasted the chilling blasts of kingly displeasure.” But “like the Pharaoh whose hosts were drowned in the Red Sea, the British Government persisted in the exactions complained of . . . Oppression makes a wise man mad. Your fathers were wise men. They did not go mad . . . They became restive under this treatment . . . With brave men there is always a remedy for oppression. Just here the (startling) idea of the separation of the colonies from Britain was born!” However, the opposition Loyalists or Tories “hate all changes . . .  (b)ut silver gold and copper change! . . . amid all their terror and affrighted vociferations against it the alarming and revolutionary idea moved on and the country with it.” Are there words here you do not know, I ask. Mad of course refers to mental illness and restive means to be agitated. Vociferations are chants shouted by the demonstrators.

The revolutionists’ solution was to “solemnly publish and declare that these united colonies are and of right ought to be free and independent states and that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown.” This is the famous core of the Declaration by Richard Henry Lee that is in the penultimate paragraph of the document. It rings with preternatural force shocking the sleepy 18th century kings and subjects in the monarchies of Europe. Many American and British historians who still claim in 2023 that the Americans were provincials who had no good reason to rebel, but over the course of the next 7 years the British learned they had to accept the wishes of these “naive” colonists.

Douglass continues “I have said that the Declaration of Independence is the ring-bolt [fastener] to the chain of your nation’s destiny, so, indeed I regard it. The principles contained in that instrument are saving principles. Stand by those principles, be true to them on all occasions in all places, against all foes and at whatever cost.” Students will realize that Douglass had great respect for the Declaration and the dogged persistence of the revolutionary forces.

Douglass says, “My business, if I have any this day, is with the present. The accepted time with God and His cause is the ever-living now.” A phrase I had to look up to confirm that it was Douglass”! “We have to do with the past only as we can make it useful to the present . . . Washington could not die until he had broken the chains of his slaves. Yet his monument is built up by the price of human blood and the traders in the bodies and souls of men shout — ‘We have Washington to our father.’– Alas that it should be so, yet so it is. ‘The evil that men do, lives after them, The good is oft’ interred in their bones.’” Douglass challenges his audience with that quote from Shakespeare: Mark Antony’s funeral oration for Julius Caesar.

He praises Washington for freeing some of his stolen human “property” before he died, but immediately pulls the compliment back by condemning the first president’s admirers for employing enslaved workers to build the Washington monument. “Can anyone comment on that?” I asked the students. Some members of the class might know that later the capitol building and the White House were also built by slaves. Now he is done with his task of recalling the Fourth of July.

“Fellow-citizens, pardon me, allow me to ask why am I called upon to speak here today? What have I, or those I represent, to do with your national independence? . . . I am not included within the pale of this glorious anniversary! Your high independence only reveals the immeasurable distance between us . . . The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity and independence bequeathed by your fathers is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought light and healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth of July is yours not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn. to drag a man in fetters into the grand illuminated temple of liberty and call upon him to join you in joyous anthems were inhuman mockery and sacrilegious irony. Do you mean, citizens, to mock me by asking me to speak here today?”

In discussing these lines above someone will point out that the stripes are the wounds caused by whips and also are the stripes on the flag. This was a common abolitionist trope utilized even in an Abecedarium, an alphabet book for children. 

“Are there any words you do not know?” I asked. The students will probably not know what a pale is. Those were the segregated areas where Jews were confined in the shtetls of Russian-Poland, but also more precisely in this case the English confined themselves in a pale after conquering Northern Ireland. The idea of “American exceptionalism” was clearly a commonplace in 1852. His sarcastic description of the “grand illuminated temple of liberty” is shocking to see in his 1852 speech. Americans, even then, had a bloated idea of the purity of American democracy. He goes right for the jugular: Douglass states his thesis as his duty to defend the slave and his condition.

He refers in the paragraph above the Psalm to the violent retribution that Yahweh ( a Jewish name for God) at the Hebrews’ request to be visited upon the Babylonians for enslaving them and mocking them, which is rarely quoted by Christians. The shocking lines which Douglass avoided are in the King James Version of the Old Testament. 

Then he quotes the first parts of Psalm 137 that we have encountered before: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down. Yea! we wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there, they that carried us away captive, required of us a song; and they who wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.”

I asked the students to recall the song we heard at the beginning of the class in the light of our analysis so far. “How can you interpret these words now?” I asked. The students will conclude that the enslaved Jews were mocked by the Babylonians who asked them to sing a song of their homeland, Zion – just as he is in America singing the praises of the white people’s freedom document while his people are enslaved.

“My subject, then fellow-citizens is American slavery. I shall see this day . . . from the slave’s point of view . . . I do not hesitate to declare… that the character and conduct of this nation never looked blacker to me than it does on this 4th of July! . . . (T)he conduct of the nation seems equally hideous and revolting. America is false to the past, false to the present, and solemnly binds herself to be false to the future.” He dares to “call into question and to denounce . . . everything that serves to perpetuate slavery, the great sin and shame of America.” Then, quoting his teacher, William Lloyd Garrison, “’I will not equivocate, I will not excuse’ . . . and yet no one word shall escape me that any man whose judgment is not blinded by prejudice, or who is not at heart a slaveholder, shall not confess to be right and just.”

The students will conclude that the Declaration from the past is the founding document but has been desecrated and tossed aside by the slave holders in power in the country from then, through the present and into the future. Anyone who finds slavery to be repugnant will discern the truth in his arguments.

In order to continue with the lesson, over the next few pages (from the last paragraph of 6 to the middle of the second column on page 9), every sentence and every word is crafted to thrill the reader with Douglass’s intelligence and skill and cringe in horror as he speaks the truth of the brutality of American slavery. Each passage is another lesson in the illogic of the excuses for the system and cruel treatment perpetrated on the Black population in our so-called democratic and freedom-loving land. I will provide the teacher with sentences and clauses comprising a bare bones narrative. But most of this, must be read aloud in class. These paragraphs are too dramatic and inspiring to skip over. Here is a precis of the next few pages. I quote some of the sentences, but the full power is in the reading. Be sure to have the students read them. They will be shocked at how the words help them keep the rhythm with both understanding and expression: The images, the sounds, and the meters carry them, pushing and pulling them along. Douglass’s energy is so intense that the quotes never lose their power.

“Must I undertake to prove that the slave is a man? . . . Nobody doubts it . . . There are seventy-two crimes in the State of Virginia, which, if committed by a black man . . . (no matter how ignorant he be), . . . (acknowledging) that the slave is a moral, intellectual and responsible being . . . It is admitted in the fact that Southern statute books are covered with enactments forbidding, under severe fines and penalties, the teaching of the slave to read or to write… When you can point to any such laws, in reference to the… dogs in your streets, (or) when the fowls of the air, when the cattle on your hills, when the fish of the sea, and the reptiles that crawl, shall be unable to distinguish the slave from a brute, then will I argue with you that the slave is a man!”

When you ask how the students understand this sentence you are not done until they can say “Even animals see the enslaved as men, but the slaveholders cannot.” The students discover that the enslaved are expected to know right from wrong, but animals are not expected to. “For the present, it is enough to affirm the equal manhood of the Negro race. Is it not astonishing that, while we are ploughing, planting and reaping, using all kinds of mechanical tools, erecting houses, constructing bridges, building ships, working in metals of brass, iron, copper, . . . having among us lawyers, doctors, ministers, poets, authors, . . . living, moving, acting, thinking, planning, living in families as husbands, wives and children, and, above all, confessing and worshipping the Christian’s God, . . . we are called upon to prove that we are men! . . . Would you have me argue that man is entitled to liberty? that he is the rightful owner of his own body?”

All the verbs, all the verbs strung together: An astonishing effect! So many powerful images in this paragraph.

“There is not a man beneath the canopy of heaven, that does not know that slavery is wrong for him.”

Here we must stop and make sure the last thought is clear. The students must interpret this last sentence. Is there a word you do not know in this? A canopy is a covering. All men are beneath the canopy of heaven. The analysis is not complete until the students state that no man wants to be a slave. The listeners are cornered. The orator has taken their minds hostage.

And now one of the most powerful passages of all. “[T]o work them without wages . . . to beat them with sticks, to flay their flesh with the lash, to load their limbs with irons, to hunt them with dogs, to sell them at auction, to sunder their families.” The paragraph is a masterpiece. This is a sonorous but brutal description of violence complete with startling images, crafted with alliterations and internal rhymes. As above the reader must ask: Is he arguing or not while he claims not to argue at all? “What, then, remains to be argued? Is it that slavery is not divine; that God did not establish it; that our doctors of divinity are mistaken? . . . Who can reason on such a proposition? They that can, may; I cannot. The time for such argument is past.”

And now the most famous paragraph: “What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July? I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless . . . your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade, and solemnity, are, to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy—a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices, more shocking and bloody, than are the people of these United States, at this very hour.”

“How do you comment on this?” I asked. It is a perfect description of systemic racism: Incontrovertible intersectionality. It is where Governor DeSantis’s views come to die.

“Go where you may, . . . for revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns without a rival. Take the American slave-trade, . . . This trade is one of the peculiarities of American institutions. It is carried on in all the large towns and cities in one-half of this confederacy; and millions are pocketed every year, by dealers in this horrid traffic.”

Here Douglass refers to the euphemism, “the peculiar institution,” which is supposed to assuage the guilt of the leaders of the so-called southern “civilization.” It is the hackneyed trope of a racist attempting to endear himself to his audience by turning slavery into a peccadillo. Continuing, he quotes the proposed paragraph written by Thomas Jefferson for the Declaration of Independence but rejected by the Continental Congress calling slavery “piracy” [manstealing] and “execrable commerce.” “Are there words here you do not know?” I asked. Excrement is human waste. Nearing the end of this paragraph, he denounces the scheme of colonization that our “colored brethren should leave this country and establish themselves on the western coast of Africa!”

“Behold the practical operation of this internal slave-trade, (The slave drivers) perambulate the country, and crowd the highways of the nation, with droves of human stock…They are food for the cotton-field, and the deadly sugar-mill. . . Cast one glance, if you please, upon that young mother, whose shoulders are bare to the scorching sun, her briny tears falling on the brow of the babe in her arms. See, too, that girl of thirteen, weeping, yes! weeping, as she thinks of the mother from whom she has been torn! . . . suddenly you hear a quick snap, like the discharge of a rifle; the fetters clank, and the chain rattles simultaneously; your ears are saluted with a scream, that seems to have torn its way to the center of your soul! The crack you heard, was the sound of the slave-whip; the scream you heard, was from the woman you saw with the babe. Her speed had faltered under the weight of her child and her chains! that gash on her shoulder tells her to move on.”

The students will comment that this paragraph is filled with images and rings with sounds of whips and clanging chains. The powerful ideas are matched by the thundering rhetoric keep you on the edge of your seat.

Then: “I was born amid such sights and scenes. To me the American slave-trade is a terrible reality. When a child, my soul was often pierced with a sense of its horrors. I lived on Philpot Street, Fell’s Point, Baltimore, and have watched…this murderous traffic (which) is, to-day, in active operation in this boasted republic. In the solitude of my spirit . . . My soul sickens at the sight.”

Students will see how he brings this experience directly to our hearts. Is this the land your fathers loved, the freedom which they toiled to win? Is this the earth whereon they moved? Are these the graves they slumber in? Students will react to the emotion in the lines of his childhood memories. The paragraph and the lines of the poem are poignance beyond measure. The lines by the abolitionist poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, are a tribute to the lost glory of the American promise. It can make the reader cry. When activists say that the “personal is political” there is no better example than this memory of Douglass’s childhood traumas. This concludes the first day of the lesson.

The second day I would ask the students to finish the speech, choosing 5 more sentences from pages 11 to 15 and to find places in the first 10 pages that explain that the slave is a man. They also were asked to point out the structure of the speech: where does the introduction end and the conclusion begin? Where is the thesis? Here we discussed the major sections of the speech which they could identify as the introduction, the Revolution, the section in which the thesis is stated and the proofs of why the slave is a man and why slavery is wrong. The speech’s final sections Douglass argues that slavery is not divine, examines the politics of slavery, and the Constitution, delivers a summary, and a peroration (conclusion).

“But a still more inhumane, disgraceful, and scandalous state of things remains to be presented. By an act of the American Congress, not yet two years old, slavery has been nationalized . . .  (T)he Mason & Dixon’s line has been obliterated; New York has become as Virginia; and the power to hold, hunt, and sell men, women, and children as slaves . . . the liberty and person of every man are put in peril…. The oath of any two villains is sufficient, for black men there are neither law, justice, humanity, not religion. The Fugitive Slave Law makes mercy to them a crime; and bribes the judge who tries them. An American judge gets ten dollars for every victim he consigns to slavery, and five, when he fails to do so.”

“How can you comment on this?” I asked. This bribe is rarely mentioned in the standard discussion of the odious Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, which of course, was part of the Compromise of 1850. In 2021 the vicious Texas anti-abortion bill borrowed its form and method of enforcement to this law. The reward of $10,000 has been substituted for the $10 in the 19th century law. It deputizes the whole population of Texas to arrest anyone who aids in arranging for an abortion. Douglass points out that the magistrates for the fugitive slave law were acting like the Protestant, John Knox, denouncing the Catholic supporters of Mary Queen of Scots who were threatening to murder Queen Elizabeth.

The leading American ministers “have taught that man may properly be a slave that the relation of master and slave is ordained of God . . . and this horrible blasphemy is palmed off upon the world for Christianity.” “How do you think about this,” I asked. Black men slave or free walking down the street even in the North were subject to false identification, imprisonment, and enslavement. It became a religious duty to show no mercy! What an abomination and evisceration of religious belief and practice. Are these Evangelical Christians in the Texas legislature or in 1852 practicing the teachings of mercy and forgiveness?

Douglass answers the question: “For my part, I would say, Welcome infidelity! welcome atheism! welcome anything—in preference to the gospel, as preached by those divines. They convert the very name of religion into an engine of tyranny, and barbarous cruelty, and serve to confirm more infidels, in this age, than all the infidel writings of Thomas Paine, Voltaire, and Bolingbroke, put together, have done! These ministers make religion a cold and flinty-hearted thing, having neither principles of right action, nor bowels of compassion.”

“Do you know these names,” I asked? Some students might know Thomas Paine or Voltaire. Bolingbroke was also a free thinker, an 18th century term for atheists, agnostics, and deists. Here Douglass claims he would favor these anti-slavery free thinkers, Thomas Paine, and Voltaire and he adds the dissenter Viscount Bolingbroke, claiming they were all three at least sympathetic to the plight of the enslaved. If students have a question, bowels of compassion refers to the deepest recesses of the human body, a common 18th and 19th century expression. These last lines are really shocking coming from such a religious man as Frederick Douglass.

“At the very moment that they are thanking God for the enjoyment of civil and religious liberty, and for the right to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences, they are utterly silent in respect to a law which robs religion of its chief significance and makes it utterly worthless to a world lying in wickedness.” “How would you interpret that,” I asked. The students will come to the conclusion that Douglass is emphasizing the hypocrisy of the leaders of the congregations and denominations in the United States.

Douglass continues: “The American theologian, Albert Barnes uttered what the common sense of every man at all observant of the actual state of the case will receive as truth, when he declared that ‘There is no power out of the church that could sustain slavery an hour, if it were not sustained in it.’” “How do you understand that?” I asked. The students will reach a conclusion that this is a very broad statement. It is a condemnation undercutting all the pronouncements of the pro-slavery divines. In contemporary terms, this is a thought based in the ideas of systemic racism and embedded in the American economy and society. It is an example of intersectionality between religion and politics, an unmistakable interdependence, however much Ron DeSantis might argue to the contrary. In a previous passage, Douglass had pointed out that there were many minister abolitionists in Britain where the monarchy opposed slavery since the 1820s but very few in America where the weight of the church was behind the slaveholders. Above on page 12 of the speech he calls them out: the many pro-slavery American ministers and the few anti-slavery heroes in the United States.

And now we are coming to the ending of the speech. There are just two topics left before the Summary and Conclusion: America’s hypocrisy toward foreign nations and the nature of the Constitution.

Douglass turns to yet another theater of hypocrisy in the United States. “Americans! your republican politics, not less than your republican religion, are flagrantly inconsistent. You boast of your love of liberty, your superior civilization . . . You hurl your anathemas [condemnations] at the crowned headed tyrants of Russia and Austria, and pride yourselves on your democratic institutions, while you yourselves consent to be the mere tools and bodyguards of the tyrants of Virginia and Carolina. You invite to your shores fugitives of oppression from abroad, honor them with banquets, greet them with ovations, cheer them, toast them, salute them, protect them . . . You profess to believe ‘that, of one blood, God made all nations of men to dwell on the face of all the earth’ . . . yet, you hold securely, in a bondage [a seventh part of the inhabitants of your country] which, according to your own Thomas Jefferson ‘is worse than ages of that which your fathers rose in rebellion to oppose’.”

The students will understand that Douglass contrasted the boasts of equality including in the Declaration of Independence that “‘all men are created equal’ yet (they) steal Black wages and deny the common ancestry of Adam that all men are of one blood.” “How do you interpret that quote from the Bible?” I asked. The students will conclude that a single origin for all humanity [Adam], which we now know to be African, proves the equality of all men. Finally, Douglass quotes Jefferson’s comments in his book, Notes on the State of Virginia, on the oppression of the enslaved as being worse than the so-called slavery of the Patriots to England.

If a student chooses the sentence containing “as it ought to be interpreted the Constitution is a glorious liberty document,” it is likely they will not agree with Douglass. Currently, almost all textbooks and historians contend that the Constitution is pro-slavery. Douglass’s interpretation is frankly a surprise for Americans even in 2023. The great abolitionist has been criticized for the latter statement by everyone from William Lloyd Garrison in the 1850s to Nicole Hannah-Jones in The 1619 Project, but his argument has a more complex basis that has not been brought to light except in the most recent academic monographs on abolitionism. 

Douglass debated for more than two years until he became exhausted with his friend and ardent supporter, Gerrit Smith, whether there existed a morally justified position that the founders opposed slavery. In the oration he said, “if the Constitution were intended to be, by its framers and adopters, a slave-holding instrument, why neither slavery, slave holding, nor slave can anywhere be found in it.” Students might know that the words slave or slavery are never mentioned in the Constitution. Instead in the 3/5 Compromise slaves are called “other persons.” In the international slave trade compromise in Article I section 9, slaves are called “such persons.” Finally in the fugitive slave clause in Article 4 the escaped slave is called “no person.” Douglass was still hesitant in 1852 about this position as you can see when he continued, that the founders were not to blame for the apparent support of slavery “or at least so I believe.” But after such a long struggle he was relieved to be able to support a fight in the Congress (i.e., politically) and not just by “moral suasion,” as Garrison had taught. The Constitution, then, was not Garrison’s “covenant with death,” but became a “glorious liberty document” that he could use to fight for the freedom of his people. 

“Fellow-citizens! I will not enlarge further on your national inconsistencies. The existence of slavery in this country brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as a base pretence, and your Christianity as a lie. It destroys your moral power abroad; it corrupts your politicians at home.

“How do you interpret that sentence?” I asked. The students will realize that Douglass is signaling he is coming to the end of the oration: he is ready to conclude. Here he lists the topics of the oration after the recital of the facts and ideas of the Revolution. At this point he adds one powerful metaphor relating to slavery that we have before encountered in the raging rivers and their dangerous floods in the introduction. Now these dangers have become one “horrible reptile…coiled up in your nation’s bosom; the venomous creature is nursing at the tender breast of your youthful republic; for the love of God, tear away, and fling from you the hideous monster, and let the weight of twenty millions crush and destroy it forever!” “How do you interpret this?” I asked. The students will realize that the twenty million was the northern majority. The undemocratic nature of the slave power is reminiscent of the white nationalist minority we are suffering from today in the arguments about abortion, the warming of the planet and the massive inequality to which our mainstream politicians are bowing today.

Here is where Douglass defends the founders as blameless, as above, for the pro-slavery Constitution, “at least, so I believe,” he maintained. “Allow me to say, in conclusion, notwithstanding the dark picture I have this day presented of the state of the nation, I do not despair of this country. There are forces in operation, which must inevitably work the downfall of slavery. ‘The arm of the Lord is not shortened,’ and the doom of slavery is certain. I, therefore, leave off where I began, with hope.” “How can you comment on this,” I ask. The students will remember that at the beginning Douglass, pointed out that the young country was only 76 years old in 1852. God’s arm is all powerful. “The arm of commerce has borne away the gates of the strong city. Intelligence is penetrating the darkest corners of the globe. It makes its pathway over and under the sea, as well as on the earth. Wind, steam, and lightning are its chartered agents. Oceans no longer divide, but link nations together . . . Thoughts expressed on one side of the Atlantic are, distinctly heard on the other.”

The students will interpret these ideas as the familiar causes and effects of globalization. “Wind, steam, and lightning” are boats and telegrams. These are all causes of optimism the students will conclude.

“The fiat of the Almighty, ‘Let there be Light,’ has not yet spent its force. No abuse, no outrage whether in taste, sport or avarice, can now hide itself from the all-pervading light. The iron shoe, and crippled foot of China must be seen, in contrast with nature. Africa must rise and put on her yet unwoven garment. ‘Ethiopia shall stretch out her hand unto God.’” “Are there words here you do not know?” I ask. A fiat is a command. The passage also refers to foot-binding in China that ended only with the revolution in 1911, and Ethiopia is a reference to all of Africa and the effects of imperialism and racism. The very last part of the speech is a poem by William Lloyd Garrison who was Douglass’ teacher and mentor from early in his life as a free man. Here is an excerpt:

“How would you interpret that?” I asked. Certainly, first of all the speech has been about freedom for the slaves, but second as a personal and political gesture Douglass showed his respect and admiration for Garrison even though their interpretations of the Constitution conflicted. Jubilee is the abolitionist term for emancipation which originated among the secular kings in the ancient holy land of the Hebrews as a 50-year celebration of forgiveness of slaves, debts, and debtors. There is a similar concession to Garrison’s leadership of the abolitionist movement when Douglass states his thesis later on.

Now that we are at the end of the speech, it is time to go back and figure out how Douglass put the speech together. Seeing the speech as a whole is a revelation for the students. After the rhetorical apologies at the very beginning, the speech proper begins: “This, for the purpose of this celebration, is the 4th of July” is near the top of the second column of the first page of the speech. The students have realized that he begins with a protest, it is the 5th. The first extended section is about the Revolution which comes after the context of the young nation and the hopes and dangers of rivers with their dual roles of fertility and flooding. His recounting of the floods includes power of the Red Sea. “How do you understand his reasoning?” I ask.

To begin with these stories, the students might say that he is clearly paying respect to the tradition of July 4th celebrations. But the great upheaval of 1776 was marked by patriotic sacrifice and brave action by the ancestors of the whites. There is a strong and dangerous undertow preceding the discussion of the Revolution. Douglass is setting a context unique to his purpose in the speech.

In the next section Douglass introduces his Thesis. He leads up to it from the first full paragraph on the left column of page 5 of the document. The thesis itself is on the bottom of the right column on page 6.

“My subject, then fellow-citizens, is American slavery . . . Standing with God and the crushed and bleeding slave on this occasion, I will, in the name of humanity which is outraged, in the name of liberty which is fettered, in the name of the constitution and the Bible, which are disregarded and trampled upon, dare to call in question and to denounce, with all the emphasis I can command, everything that serves to perpetuate slavery—the great sin and shame of America!” It is a bold and dramatic period sentence. Next is his first quote from Garrison, his mentor. “I will not equivocate; I will not excuse.” This is one of the most famous lines from the great leader.

The optimism Douglass feels for the young country at the “impressible stage of its existence” only 76 years old at the beginning is always in conflict in the speech with the dangers of nature and the wrath of God against the Egyptians and Babylonians. Similarly at the end he describes his feeling of possibility for peace and abolition despite the “dark picture” he has painted. But this joy in the chances for change are abruptly flung aside as he describes the “horrible reptile . . . coiled up in your nation’s bosom,” of the “youthful” republic. However, again, the “arm of the Lord is not shortened” and change can be part of the work of history and if Americans “act in the living present.”

Douglass signals many of the sections by using the phrase, “My fellow citizens” or directly addressing his audience as “Americans.” He introduces the section on the Revolution with “Fellow-citizens.”  He asks, “Fellow-citizens, pardon me, allow me to ask why am I called upon to speak here today?” after the description of the Revolution to introduce the central conflict of the speech with Psalm 137 that identifies the oppression of the Jews during the Babylonian Captivity with his cause as a representative of the American slaves. We have quoted the thesis above that contains the same signal. Again, as he begins the topic of slavery: “Fellow-citizens; above your national, tumultuous joy, I hear the mournful wail of millions!” right under the quote of Psalm 137. It is in this section that Douglass proves that the Slave is a Man despite his protestations to the contrary and then he describes the slave trade in Bringing Slavery Before the Eyes saying, “Behold the practical operation of this internal slave-trade.”

Finally, Douglass introduces his Summary and Conclusion going back to the very same call to attention. This time with a deeply sarcastic turn of phrase: “Fellow-citizens! I will not enlarge further on your national inconsistencies. The existence of slavery in this country brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as a base pretence, and your Christianity as a lie.”

This statement shows the power behind the ideas of systemic racism. The teacher is now prepared to take on the machinations of Ron DeSantis. The self-educated escaped slave puts the Governor’s inhumane and frankly ignorant ideas in the dustbin of history. Frederick Douglass oration, “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” is a powerful antidote to DeSantis’ anti-woke bullying. Douglass’s descriptions make you feel their power. They will entrance your students and leave them ready to defend their values as learners and humanitarians. Douglass’ oration shows Ron DeSantis to be a man of limited intellectual force and a mean spirited and dangerous leader who acts with thoughtless abandon. His actions are the very definition of performative. He is an authoritarian poseur. In the face of Douglass’s oration DeSantis is shamed and outclassed.

I dedicate this this lesson to the brave students and educators who are in the classrooms fighting for the truth and complexity in the study of history. Remember that Frederick Douglass believed, “If there is no struggle, there is no progress.”

Cesar Chavez and the National Farm Workers Association

Cesar Chavez, a Mexican American, is the president of the National Farm Workers Association, an organization of farm workers fighting for more benefits and equality. Cesar Chavez’s goals for his fellow farm workers were to create a Union, an insurance program for farm workers, higher wages and contracts for farm workers, and equality. Cesar Chavez’s historic strike, the Delano Grape Strike, is one of the many strikes he takes pride in for expressing his unwavering conviction that he is on the right side of history and that the violence and humiliation that the growers are showing towards the workers will only fuel them more with conviction and determination to strike until they receive the benefit they are entitled to because of their hard work. Thousands of supporters helped Cesar Chavez in their fight for unionizing by participating in strikes, boycotting the companies’ products, and much more. This constant fight for equality painted a bad image for the company. The companies were both Schenley Industries and the DiGiorgio Corporation. This nonviolent approach and fight for equality was inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who also had peaceful protests. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is one of the many prominent figures throughout Cesar Chavez’s career who supported Cesar Chavez and was able to inspire him to take a peaceful approach in order to achieve his goals for these strikes, which are being able to Unionize insurance programs to better benefits for farm workers.

This research dives into the challenges and struggles Cesar Chavez, and the National Farm Workers Association faced as they tirelessly worked to achieve fundamental rights and improved working conditions for marginalized and exploited farm laborers by shedding light on the strategies used by Cesar Chavez and his National Farm Workers Association in their fight against the obstacles standing in the way of their equality. Cesar Chavez’s legacy as a labor leader and civil rights activist is a testament to how hard he fought in the face of adversity.

Cesar Chavez was influenced by his own experiences in a migrant farm-working family, he then decided to face the injustices prevalent in his community. Working under Fred Ross Jr. Cesar Chavez learned about the rights of Hispanic, specifically Mexican, farmworkers and was empowered by his community and the injustices to fight against discrimination. Cesar Chavez’s journey in building a labor movement, started with grassroots efforts in his community. Challenges such as fear of reprisal and deportation scared and made people reject Cesar Chavez, Cesar Chavez successfully recruited supporters, including religious figures and community organizers. The lack of unity and coordination within the United Farm Workers is also an obstacle the organization had to overcome, as well as the violence and intimidation faced by supporters from anti-union groups. Cesar Chavez’s goals included creating a union, insurance programs, higher wages, and contracts for farmworkers to improve their living conditions. The success of the United Farm Workers is thanks to various strategies, including boycotts, strikes, and protests, which pressured large companies like Di Giorgio to negotiate with Cesar Chavez and the organization. Cesar Chavez’s leadership and organizational skills, played an important role in advancing the cause for farmworker justice.

Through the movement Cesar Chavez was supported by a diverse group of people. It highlights Cesar Chavez’s ability to connect with various groups, such as the Mexican Pentecostal church, religious leaders, college students, and workers from different ethnic backgrounds such as Mexican Americans, Filipinos, and Puerto Ricans. The Mexican Pentecostal community provided moral and financial support, while college students actively participated in protests, strikes, and fundraising efforts. The teamwork among different ethnic groups in the civil rights movement, notably influenced by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., contributed to the movement’s strength. Despite facing hardships and sacrifices, the labor movement achieved its goals, in succeeding in getting contracts with major growing companies and paving the way for the Agricultural Labor Relations Act to govern farm workers’ rights and union activities. Cesar Chavez and the United Farm Workers faced hardships and challenges in their mission to better the rights and working conditions of farm laborers, facing industry resistance, violent opposition, and internal struggles. Despite the obstacles faced, Cesar Chavez’s strategic approach, marked by nonviolent protests, strikes, and boycotts, garnered crucial attention and support for the movement. The community, including Mexican Americans, Filipinos, Puerto Ricans, college students, and religious leaders, emerged as a pivotal force in achieving the movement’s goals. Cesar Chavez’s dedication, inspired by personal experiences and the struggles of farm workers, led to the success of the United Farm Workers.

This article provides a summary of Cesar Chavez’s activism, the challenges faced by the National Farm Workers Association, and the broader labor movement in the southwest. Some reasons why Cesar Chavez should be taught in school is because it sheds light on the historical context of the labor movement in the southwest, providing students with insights into the challenges faced by marginalized and exploited farm laborers during that time. Cesar Chavez’s connection with the civil rights movement, particularly his inspiration from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., offers an opportunity to explore the different social justice movements during the 20th century. Students can also analyze how Cesar Chavez adapted nonviolent protest strategies from the civil rights movement to advocate for the rights of farm workers. Students can learn about the challenges and criticisms faced by Chavez and analyze how he overcame them to achieve the goals of the United Farm Workers. Highlighting the diverse support of the labor movement, showing the unity between different ethnic groups, religious communities, and college students. Students can explore how diverse communities came together to support a common cause and the role of solidarity in achieving social justice goals. By incorporating this article into the classroom, teachers can help provide a diverse perspective about social justice, labor rights, leadership, and the unity of historical movements. It encourages critical thinking, analysis of historical events, and reflection on the ongoing struggles for equality and justice.

Death Transformed: How the Black Death Impacted the Dying in the 14th Century

            From 1348 to 1350, Europe was consumed by a deadly plague that left one-third to one-half of the population dead. All aspects of society at the time were impacted in some way by a large number of deaths. People lived in fear of this invisible foe, bodies littered the streets, resulting from the overwhelming amount of death all at once. Cemeteries and churches could not continue traditional ways of burying the dead and death was no longer celebrated as a community event with friends and family. Bodies were collected from houses and from the streets and buried in mass graves, with no bells, no singing, and no one to accompany the dead as they were buried in their final resting place. Sometimes bodies remained at the place of death for days until the body collector eventually reached that part of town, the smell of rotting corpses could be smelled across the city. The dying suffered alone, friends, family, and even doctors were too afraid to be in contact with the infected, no priests would visit for last confessions and the infected would die with no one at their side. How did the Black Death impact the practices and experiences surrounding death? This essay will argue the Black Death dehumanized the traditional funerary practices, methods of handling the dead, and the experiences of the dying in society. The Black Death disrupted the normal functions surrounding death by no longer allowing for funerary traditions and as a result, new methods of handling and burying the dead were practiced. The abandonment of friends and family as the dying suffered added to the dehumanization of society’s experience as a whole. The term dehumanizing is used in this context to show how the infected were treated like animals and their bodies were disposed of in inhuman ways that would be considered criminal in the present time.    

The Black Death, also known as the bubonic plague, was one of the deadliest pandemics in human history. It is estimated that the disease killed one-third to half of the population in Europe during the 14th century (Horrox) from 1348-1350, and its impact on the population and treatment of the dead was significant and important to be researched. The historiography of the Black Death has been shaped by various factors, including the availability of primary sources, and the methodological approaches of historians from secondary sources. Although these sources have various points and information they come together for supporting information. 

The first article that explores the gruesome realities of the Black Death is “The Black Death in English Towns” by author Richard Britnell. This article offers a glimpse into the horrors of the Black Death, from the mass graves that were used to dispose of the bodies of the dead to the role of “body collectors” who were tasked with gathering the corpses and disposing of them. The author explains the dangers the “body collectors” faced and the horrific jobs they were expected to complete. In this article, the methodologies of archeology and social history, are shown from the included examples of how the dead were collected and buried and how society adapted to a large number of dead. In the second source “The Politics of Burial in Late Medieval Hereford” written by Ian Forrest, the author expands on how the social and cultural development of burials was impacted because of the Black Death. The religious practices that impacted how bodies were buried during this time of great death are also included in the article.   The author includes information on how the large number of bodies piled in the cities and families abandoning each other became the new normalcy in cities.

The third secondary source “Plague Violence and Abandonment from the Black Death to the Early Modern Period,” by author Sam Cohen, examines the ways in which the sick and dying were abandoned as the fear of the plague grew and the violence created between family members tore society apart from within. The article also includes social methodology examples, of the violence in society, the refusal by doctors to treat the sick, and the abandonment of loved ones caused no hope of traditional burials and funerary practices. The final article, “The Black Death, 1348”, written by John Carey on Eyewitness to History, provides a variety of information on the topics surrounding the responses to the Plague. Further information on the ways bodies were disposed of and the social responses to the impending danger, inform the readers why there was no concern for the health status of neighbors, friends, and sometimes family members as well. Again like the other articles this one contains archeological and social methodologies are included in this article.

All four secondary sources contribute to the overall thesis of the paper, providing information that the plague impacted the ways in which society dealt with death during the plague and how it affected the many principles that contributed to death. These principles include the new methods of burying the dead, and how the experiences of the dying were no longer peaceful because they were suffering alone and believed to be dying with sin. I agree with the author’s overall thesis and points because it contributes to the thesis of this paper however, the only holes I have found were small the amount of information on the experiences of the dying moments before death and how the stress of giving confession before death was so important to the citizens, along with the hopes of a “good death” not being possible during this time. Although they are secondary sources rather than primary sources it is unrealistic to expect first-hand experiences to be included, however, It would have been helpful to have more general information on how the victims came to terms with the inevitable death and help reinforce the overall thesis. Instead of continuing where they left off, I will fill the holes of important points and information that each article did not include and will reinforce their information with the completed research from the primary sources included in this essay. 

The Black Death impacted traditional funerary practices in society, as a result of a large number of people dying, no longer were services held in the households of the dead for people to come to say their final goodbyes. Traditional gifts were not able to be sent because of fear of transmission through the gifts “No one shall dare or presume to give or send any gift to the house of the deceased,” (Chiappelli, P.197).  No longer were family members attending funerals because of the ordinances preventing them, however, they were too afraid to risk attending, one source noted, “It was rare for bodies of the dead to be accompanied by more than 10 or 12 neighbors to church” (Boccaccio, p. 31). As the death toll started to increase the more the traditional funerary activities changed, no longer mourners or criers to honor the dead. No longer could the sounds of bells be heard or prayer groups be seen, the fear of death had traditional practices in a chokehold, as one author describes the experience, “No prayer, trumpet or bell summoned friends or neighbors to the funeral, nor was massed performed” (Boccaccio, P. 23). The fear of death played a great role in disrupting the normal religious and community traditions.

Regardless, if someone was too scared to leave their house no longer was there any notification that a person has passed, without any bells, tolled, invitations sent, posters hung, or chairs set up in the streets there was no way to know when someone had died as one author points out, “mourners should not gather in the houses of the dead, nor should banners or seats be placed in the streets, nor should other customary observances be present,” no longer was there any way of honoring the death of a friend or family member, even the customary religious practices were also provoked, instead “crowds should not be invited, but instead, people should pray for the dead and attend vigil and mass”(Muisis, P. 53). The religious practices surrounding death also broke down as a result and other activities were done by living members of society to fill the time normally spend doing religious works.

 Members of society quarantine themselves and blocked out all the death-related obligations of attending funerals, ringing bells, and partaking in mourning groups that they were previously held. The Black Death was impactful on traditional funerary practices that normally brought friends and family together to honor the dead, instead, the accustomed practices were altered as a result of the epidemic, and these experiences as a whole were dehumanizing to all cities struck by the plague across Europe. 

The great plague in Europe during the 14th century resulted in one-third to half the population dead, the traditional methods of burial were unable to keep up with the large number of people dying on a daily basis, and a change in the way of burial was needed. The known tradition of burying loved ones as a family event with friends in attendance was no longer a possibility considering the dangerous circumstances and the great fear of contracting the disease. The conventional way in which bodies were buried was substituted with a more efficient way to account for the dramatically large amount of death. No longer were the dead buried in single graves with other dead family members, instead, mass graves were dug and the bodies of the dead were placed with strangers. Also, as a result, bodies were disposed of in inhumane ways without receiving blessings or last goodbyes from family members. One way of disposal as described by Horrox was, “the townspeople dumped as many of the bodies they could in the sea” (Mussis, P.17). Eventually, of all the people dying the bodies could not be disposed of as quickly because not as many people were working. This caused rotting bodies to be in the streets for days and rather than the corpses of the dead being taken from their houses by a hearse with their families, the bodies were left on the streets until a body collector reached them for pick up. One author explains how the long time between death and burial caused “movement of the bones within the corpse” (Forrest, 1117). This movement was referred to as “Bone Float” and was another side effect of the bodies not being buried in a timely matter.  

Experiencing the large number of bodies in the streets is described by the author Boccaccio, “the bodies of the dead were extracted from their houses and left lying outside their front doors” and “Funeral biers would be sent for and it was by no means rare for one of these biers to be seen with two or three bodies at a time” (Boccaccio, P.32). By the time the body collectors reached the rotting bodies they were not in good shape, Buboes might burst, leaking rancid pus. Flea bites that transmitted the deadly bacteria Yersinia pestis could become infected. The terrible stench of rotting flesh was unable to be blocked out from the nostrils of the collectors. Instead of bodies being buried in caskets like today’s standards, the bodies were exposed to mud and bugs in the soil. One author included, “a third of all burials, whether in one of the trenches or in an ordinary grave was in a coffin”(Britnell, 205). Buried like animals with no “Grave Markers” as the author also mentions, no way of identifying where loved ones were laid to rest. The job was disgusting and dangerous for these body collectors, they knew the risks, however, someone needed to complete the job. Clothing and any belongings from a diseased person could transfer the disease to one of these body collectors, which increased the risk of the job. After the bodies were collected no longer was single graves a possibility because of the sheer amount of bodies needed to be disposed of.

A new way of burying bodies in large trenches rather than singular graves was called “mass graves”. This was described by the chronicler Bocaccio, “when all the graves were full, huge trenches were excavated in the churchyards, new arrivals were placed by the hundreds, each layer of corpses being covered by a thin layer of soil till the trench was filled to the top” (Boccaccio, P. 33). There was also new regulations referred to as ordinances in some cities in Europe, such as Pistoia in 1348. Some of these ordinances were created to affect the way in which people were buried and handled, in Pistoia, “The bodies of the dead should not be removed from the place of death until enclosed in a wooden box” (Chiapelli, P.196). These ordinances were created to stop the stench of the dead to contaminate or infect the person handling them. Other regulations were created in Pistoia regarding the requirements for burials. One requirement created was that “each grave shall be dug two and a half armlengths deep” (Chiapelli, P.196). This was done to stop the stench of the rotting bodies to reach the surface of the ground. The Black Death caused many inhuman ways of transporting and burying bodies to be seen during the 14th-century plague.

The plague during the 14th century caused a wave of fear to encompass all of Europe, the disease was an invisible enemy that could not be seen but, was very much felt. With no one at the bedside of the infected moments before death, the desire for a painless sin-free “good death” was no longer possible for the victims of the Black Death. The hope of the last confession as an attempt to clear the sins of the infected was no longer possible in Europe during the 14th-century Black Death. The fear caused the abandonment of dying friends and family as people search for a safe place to escape the disease. The hope to be cleared of sin was no longer a possibility many of the priests were too afraid to visit the dying, but in some cases, “the priests, panic-stricken, administered the sacraments with fear and trembling” (Mussis, P.22). Not everyone was so lucky, in some parts of Europe many people died without giving a confession, in hopes of having a clean slate while entering the afterlife.

Not only were priests abandoning the sick and their duties, family, and friends no longer cared for their loved ones, “when one person lay sick in a house no one would come near, even dear friends would hide themselves away” and the children’s cries were loud as one author describes, “Oh father, why have you abandoned me? Mother where have you gone? Do you forget I am your child?” (Mussis, P. 22). Instead of people caring for their neighbors like they once did, they avoided them at all cost. Instead of hiding some people, “formed small communities, living entirely separate from everybody else. They shut themselves up in houses where there were no sick, eating the finest food and drinking the best wine very temperately, avoiding all excess, allowing no news or discussion of death and sickness, and passing the time in music and suchlike pleasures” (Carey, 2020). The ways in which society interacted with one another were altered. In some cases people would have survived if they received some type of help or care from another person, whether it be food or water brought to them, the abandonment aided in the cause of death in some cases. The dying suffered alone with no one at their bedside, and the hope of a “good death” was no longer possible, without family members surrounding the dying members to be made comfortable, the sick often were treated terribly by loved ones who at one time promised to always be there for them, one author described the experience, “the sick are treated like dogs by their families-they give them food and drink, then flee the house” (Heyligen, P. 44). It was a dehumanizing experience for those infected. 

The fear caused by The Black Death increased the abandonment of the dying, the social construct continued to collapse and doctors and physicians would no longer visit the infected and let the disease run its course. Author Sam Cohen includes information on the social breakdown of medical care during the plague, “the same connection between ferocious contagion and the social consequences, causing physicians not to visit the stricken” (Cohen, 2017). Living and dying were the same thing during the Black Death, everyone suffered regardless of being infected or not, the fear caused abandonment from loved ones, and the chances of receiving a final confession in hopes of a traditional “good death” was unlikely, the social breakdown of no one caring for other and medical personal abandoning their duties of helping the sick aided in the death toll being so tremendous. The abandonment added to the inhumanity of the experiences caused by The Black Death in all parts of society.

The period of the Black Death in the 14th century was a dehumanizing experience for all members of society. The traditional funerary practices and methods of handling the dead were no longer a possibility. The great number of people sick and dying prevented community get-togethers to honor the lives of those who passed, instead, people were buried without friends or family in attendance. A large number of dying caused “mass graves” to be the new method for burial because it was a faster way of burying a large number of corpses at once and was more space efficient, now three to four bodies could fit the same space of one traditional grave. The fear of the plague caused the abandonment of friends and family in society, the infected died alone without doctors tending to them or priests present to clear their sins before death. The main points contribute to the argument that the Black Death was a dehumanizing experience for those who lived in Europe during the epidemic.   

References

Britnell, R. (1994). The black death in English towns. Urban history, 21(2), 195–210. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44613912

Carey, J. “the black death, 1348.” eyewitness to history. Last modified august 25, 2020.  http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/plague.htm

Cohn, S. (2017). Plague violence and abandonment from the black death to the early modern period. Annales de démographie historique, 2 (134), 39–61. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26627248

Forrest, I. (2010). The politics of burial in late medieval hereford. The english historical review, 125(516), 1110–1138. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40963124

The Social Cost of Deindustrialization: Postwar Trenton, New Jersey

Patrick Luckie

Studying local history is something that is often overlooked and underestimated in social studies classrooms around the country. Think about it—do you have any memory of learning about your own local community in a coordinated school or social studies effort? Big ideas like imperialism, global culture, and other themes of the past and present usually take precedence over learning about one’s own local history in the high school. As part of my undergraduate senior research project at Rider University, I grappled with this fact and produced a short study of my own local history which I used to inform my instruction in the classroom. This article will present the research I have done and will end with a short analysis of how my research project on local history has affected my instruction in Ewing High School and how it can change the way we think about teaching local history in all American high school social studies classrooms.

These powerful words were written by Dr. Jack Washington, a teacher of Social Studies in Trenton public schools for over 40 years and author of, The Quest for Equality: Trenton’s Black Community 1890-1965 which traces racial struggle and movements for equality over the city’s history. Trenton’s uniqueness as Washington describes, is a product of its deep history, rooted in the American Revolution, World War II, and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Trenton was once a manufacturing powerhouse, home to multiple industries which forged the urban landscape of the state’s capital and produced thousands of union jobs for its inhabitants. These included the mighty John A. Roebling’s Sons Company, which aided in the creation of the Brooklyn Bridge and whose factory in West Chambersburg served as a symbol of innovation and opportunity for decades. Trenton’s pottery industry was also one of the largest and most successful in the whole nation alongside its iron, steel, rubber, and textile companies. Together, these industries provided enough stable employment and pay to support a rapidly growing population of mostly first and second generation European immigrants from Italy, Ireland, Germany, Poland, and Hungary, to name a few. Trenton’s manufacturing prowess was best showcased in 1917 with the first lighting of the famous “Trenton Makes, The World Takes” sign on the Lower Trenton Bridge, a symbol which still stands today in 2023.

 The “golden age” of the city, as historian John T. Cumbler describes it, lasted from around 1850 to 1920 when Trenton established itself as one of the manufacturing capitals of the nation.[2] Almost perfectly situated between two of America’s largest cities in New York and Philadelphia, Trenton industrialists used its strategic geographic location along the Delaware River to tap into large markets and supply the massive manufacturing needs of the east coast. Trenton at this time was truly a symbol of the American dream, and people flocked to the city in search of opportunities. By 1920, the population of the city surpassed 119,000 people and it was amongst the most densely populated places in the state of New Jersey.[3]

The first signs of the city’s decline came with the weakening of its labor movement. By the 1920s, the age of mechanization had begun and the economic shift from factory work to mechanized manufacturing began weakening labor unions overtime. Worker’s unions and cooperation between owners and workers alike had been central to the functioning of the local economy and the glue by which the city binded itself together. Overtime, businesses could no longer maintain the standards of work they had previously upheld and conditions within the city started to slowly deteriorate. From 1910-1920 Trenton underwent its largest leap in population within a decade and shortly thereafter it began experiencing some of its greatest economic struggles. Plants began relocating outside of the city and unionized jobs were becoming more and more difficult to attain. Economic historians have grappled with this shift in the post-war era, claiming “US corporations aggressively sought to break free of expensive union contracts and to seek out ways to pay lower wages and allied social costs in order to increase profits.”[4] This is a persistent trend in this study. With great increases in population and the changing state of the local and national economy, Trenton suffered meaningful losses in employment and manufacturing output.

With the Great Depression beginning in 1929 and the waging of the Second World War in 1939, Trenton retreated back to manufacturing and away from addressing the issues surrounding labor which had marked its initial decline. The waging of the war meant a massive nation-wide mobilization of industry towards fueling the war effort. The war-time economy of Trenton temporarily revitalized the city. Roebling’s Sons employed droves of new workers, opportunities for overtime became more available, unions strengthened, worker’s pay went up, and the largest wave of black migrants in the city’s history began making their way to Trenton beginning in the 1940s.[5] These migrants came to Trenton and other cities in what is known as The Great Migration. That is the movement of millions of African Americans predominantly from the rural southern states to the urban north and midwest between 1910-1970.

This temporary boom did not yield long-term progress for Trenton in the post-war period. During the 1950s, many of the city’s largest industries began relocating outside the city limits and the economy did not adequately support its largest ever population of over 129,000 people.[6] In 1952, Trenton’s most popular employer Roebling’s Sons was sold to Colorado Fuel and Iron Company which over the next decade cut its employment numbers in Trenton and relocated its major manufacturing and business centers outside the city limits. This was the fate for many of the most popular industries within the city which sold their shares to larger corporations after WWII, leaving the fate of the city’s economy in the hands of interests which had little to no connection to it. The rubber, steel, iron, and pottery industries which had defined the city of Trenton and produced its “golden age” became shadows of their former selves and the physical conditions of the city reflected this change. Overtime, thousands of industrial jobs were lost and the population of Trenton dropped 13,382 people from 1950 to 1960 and an additional 9,381 people the following decade.[7] Population decline continued to the year 2000 and stabilized between 80,000 to 90,000 in the 21st century. 

This study seeks to answer two fundamental questions: 1) What were the major effects of deindustrialization on Trenton, NJ in the decades immediately following WWIII? 2) How were these effects felt by the people living within the city at this time? In answering these questions, this study will provide a lens through which race and class come to the forefront of the discussion. Trenton’s decline overlaps with the migration of thousands of African Americans to the city in search of economic opportunities. This demographic shift was the largest in the city’s history and was not met with opportunity but rather inequality and increased racial tension. The major effects of deindustrialization on Trenton, NJ in the post-war period were economic destabilization, movement to the suburbs, and increased racial tensions between white and black Trentonians. Each subsection of this work will dive into these effects individually as well as their overall impact on life in Trenton. It is important to recognize that this movement away from manufacturing and its effects were not phenomena restricted to certain areas or regions. Rather it was a national trend which all rust belt cities like Trenton grappled with in the 21st century. In addition to deindustrialization broadly,  the age of mechanized labor, the shifting of the U.S. economy towards greater support for large corporations, and the social movements of the 1960s all played extremely important roles in shaping American cities in the post-war era.

Secondary source literature on the decline of U.S. cities in the post-WWII period falls into the fields of American urban, economic, and social history. One of the most popular works on these subjects is historian Thomas J. Sugrue’s The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit, which examines the many ways in which American cities began to decline following WWII with specific focus on racial inequality and division. In his work, Sugrue states that Trenton, like Detroit and other rust belt cities of the time, experienced hundreds of thousands of layoffs in manufacturing jobs nationwide due to the changing state of the U.S. economy and the lack of government spending allocated towards Northern cities.[8] These conditions radically transformed urban environments into almost unrecognizable versions of their industrial heights. Sugrue explores the connections between suburbanization, demographic change, and the racial attitudes of northern whites to produce an all-encompassing case study of the decline of Detroit. At the heart of his argument is that racial segregation and inadequate political responses to signs of crisis determined the fate of the city. The importance of this historical research cannot be overstated. Before this book was originally published in 1996, the stories of Detroit and other American cities who suffered from the consequences of deindustrialization and racial division in the post-war period were largely untold. The Origins of Urban Crisis continues to be one of the most influential modern studies of American urban history and is without doubt one of the most cited pieces of literature in the field.

Jefferson Cowie and Joseph Heathcott, who together produced Beyond the Ruins: The Meanings of Deindustrialization,built on the historical research of Sugrue by studying the impact of post-war deindustrialization across the nation. This book seeks to progress the conversation of historic decline to modern solutions for urban decay and economic instability. In doing so, it compiles a collection of essays from historians and other professionals to further explore deindustrialization and its impact on American cities.[9] From this perspective, the authors identify a complexity of causes and effects of urban decline which vary from city to city but share many similarities nationally. The value of this work is in its wide-scope. By compiling essays from multiple professionals in a variety of related disciplines, the image of declining cities in the U.S. following WWII becomes more clear than ever.

The most recognized work on post-war deindustrialization in specifically Trenton, New Jersey lies within historian John T. Cumbler’s A Social History of Economic Decline: Business, Politics, and Work in Trenton. This book outlines a long trajectory of economic conditions in Trenton beginning in the 1920s with focus on the Great Depression and researches the changing nature of the city up until the book’s publishing in 1989. One of Cumbler’s main arguments includes the notion that America experienced a gradual economic shift from civic to national capitalism following the Great Depression which empowered large corporations while simultaneously destroying the small businesses which held many industrial cities together.[10] He also explores the rich history of the city’s most impactful industries, politicians, union leaders, and manufacturing workers to provide a comprehensive view of Trenton’s economic and social decline. This work provides the foundation of historical knowledge on Trenton required to produce further research on this topic. However, Cumbler’s history of Trenton does not extend as far into the social consequences and effects of deindustrialization as one might expect. Nevertheless, virtually any modern historical literature on the city of Trenton cites this work. This points to the undying credibility of Cumbler as a historian and shows the importance and relevance of his arguments to the continued study of the city’s history.

More recent historical literature on related topics has largely focused on national trends of suburbanization and racial conflict. One such journal article titled “The Rural Past-in-Present and Postwar Suburban Progress” by University of Waterloo professor Stacy Denton studies the shift towards suburbanization following WWII. The author highlights the transformation of previously rural spaces to suburban landscapes and the implications of such transformations on national attitudes and beliefs towards race, culture, and class.[11] In a similar light, economic historian Leah Platt Bouston’s 2007 work “Black Migration, White Flight: The Effect of Black Migration on Northern Cities and Labor Markets” studies the effects of The Great Migration on northern cities and their economies. She also dives into the racist attitudes of northern whites which manifested themselves in movements out of increasingly diversifying cities and into the surrounding suburbs as part of a process termed “white flight.”[12] Both these works of history are incredibly valuable to this study of post-war Trenton for the topics and findings of their research are amongst the greatest effects of deindustrialization on the city.

The research done in this paper will synthesize the secondary source material on the decline of U.S. cities and apply their findings to a specific case study of Trenton, New Jersey. In doing so, it will paint a clearer picture of the more immediate social and economic effects of deindustrialization on the city in the decades following WWII. This will add to the historiography of urban history and Trenton historical study by compiling primary and secondary source documents to more deeply understand the major effects of deindustrialization and economic transformation on the city.  These major effects include economic destabilization, massive suburbanization, and increased racial tension. These symptoms of deindustrialization were felt most harshly by the city’s poor ethnic-white and growing black population. More specifically, economic decline in Trenton coincided with the arrival of black migrants which compounded racist attitudes and practices within the city. This is most clear in workplace and housing segregation which new migrants had to face upon their arrival.

Industry leaving Trenton following WWII radically changed the city’s local economy. Unionized factory jobs became harder to attain, poor residents were left with fewer options, and Trenton’s growing black community was segregated in their employment. Long-time union workers like those who worked in the pottery and steel plants found themselves in an unfamiliar situation. As Cumbler explained, “Those workers thrown out of work by plant closings had the hardest time finding work and represented the largest number of Trenton’s unemployed.”[13]

The selling of corporations like Roebling’s Sons produced a much weaker focus on the city’s manufacturing growth and output and instead, large corporations sought for the relocation of facilities and workers to outside the city. This left the existing workforce in the city out to dry and decreased options for employment, especially among the lower-income white and minority black populations.

 One action taken by the state and local government to fill this gap created by fleeing industry was growth in the employment of state workers and other public jobs. New Jersey state workers were in the 1950s and 60s, as they still are in the present day, centralized in the capital city of Trenton. Cumbler described this shift from manufacturing to public work as, “Blue Collar to White Collar and White Smock.”[14] This provided some relief to the city’s unemployment problem which exceeded the national average through the 1950s and 60s but it did not come close to meeting the pay and benefit standards that manufacturing jobs had produced just a decade prior. Additionally, the large majority of state workers employed at this time were disproportionately white men. Despite these changes, public and state employment was not enough to lift the city out of its economic slump nor its inherent issues with workplace discrimination.

A large part of the story of economic destabilization in Trenton as a product of deindustrialization was the negative consequences on its black community. Former Trentonian and author Helen Lee Jackson published her autobiography in 1978 charting her experience with racial discrimination as a black woman seeking meaningful employment in the city. Her description of Trenton reads as follows:

In 1940, Trenton was an industrial city with many potteries. Steel mills, factories, and a large auto plant, but the production lines were almost solidly white. Black men swept the floors, moved heavy equipment and shipping crates, and performed other burdensome tasks. In the business sections, they were almost invisible except as window cleaners, janitors, or elevator operators. There were no black salespeople in the stores, banks, or business offices. They were hired as maids, package wrappers, or seamstress. Even the five-and-ten-cent stores refused to hire blacks, except to sweep, dust, or move stock.[15]

Jackson’s firsthand experience with racial segregation and inequality in the city in the 1940s is a reflection of the racial attitudes and prejudices in Trenton and other northern cities earlier in the 20th century. Racist attitudes towards black migrants who largely came from the south was a characteristic of many industrial cities in the U.S. at this time as is highlighted in Sugrue’s work on Detroit and other rust belt cities. With greater numbers of black migrants entering northern cities, the problem of racial discrimination and inequality intensified and the competition for jobs in short supply fuel racist attitudes. According to Sugrue, a combination of factors including employer bias, the structure of the industrial work place, and the overarching ideologies and beliefs of racism and black inferiority contributed to this workplace segregation.[16] For Trenton, these differences in employment were visible to the observer and significantly impacted the lives of those seeking stable income. With the collapse of industry happening simultaneously with a dramatic increase in the city’s black population, this problem compounded. Black residents were not only excluded from whatever factory jobs were left on the basis of their race but they were also labeled as the source of the city’s problems altogether.

In a 1953 study of community services in Trenton, researchers found that the average black resident experienced twice as much unemployment and earned on average 30% less total income than the average white person at this time despite only a one year difference in their average acquired education.[17] These statistics are proof of income inequality and workplace discrimination and provide insight into the lived experiences of black people in Trenton at this time. Furthermore, research from The Journal of Economic History, suggests “black workers were channeled into negro jobs and faced limited opportunities for promotion.”[18] Access to financial resources and meaningful employment were among the largest reasons for black migration to Trenton and other northern cities. Upon their arrival however, they were met with egregious workplace discrimination and were given very little opportunities to climb the economic ladder. Black women specifically made up, “The least utilized pool of potential industrial labor power having much less than proportionate representation with her white counterpart” according to a 1950s study titled, The Negro in the Trenton Labor Market.[19] Many black women, including Helen Lee Jackson, struggled even more so than black men to find employment within the city. These conditions forced economically disadvantaged men and women alike to scramble for jobs and income in order to support themselves and their families.

Changes to the manufacturing economy and workplace discrimination created great instability in Trenton during the 1950s and 60s. Old union workers were suddenly left jobless and the fruits of their loyal labor to the city’s largest industries were now gone. Attempts to revitalize the economy largely failed and economic decline impacted the poor and minority black population of the city more harshly than anyone else in the form of unequal pay and limited job opportunities. With this knowledge, it becomes clear that deindustrialization and the exodus of industry destroyed the economy of Trenton that was historically forged by large-scale manufacturing and robust labor unions and disproportionately affected the new and growing black community.

Another major consequence of postwar deindustrialization on America’s rustbelt cities was the creation of and migration to the suburbs. Suburbs are the areas where urban centers like Trenton, NJ extend into previously rural environments where new housing developments, industries, and townships began to populate with greater and greater numbers of prior city-dwelling individuals. Historian Kenneth T. Jackson’s work on suburbanization titled,

Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States,  provides the best historical analysis of this phenomenon which swept the nation in the 20th century. Among many important factors, he claims that the roots of suburbanization can be traced to the boom of the automobile industry in the 1920s which enabled those who could afford it to move further and further away from the cities in which they worked. Jackson states, “Indeed the automobile had a greater spatial and social impact on cities than any technological innovation since the development of the wheel” He goes further to explain, “After 1920 suburbanization began to acquire a new character as residential developments multiplied, as cities expanded far beyond their old boundaries, and as the old distinctions between city and country began to erode.”[20]

For Trenton NJ, this shift towards the suburbs was gradual beginning in the 1920s and peaking during the 1950s. It is important to note that suburbanization in Trenton and in cities across the nation happened gradually into the late 20th century. This coincided with a decline in major industries and jobs. Historical research on suburbanization has also revealed that many of these white suburbanites moved to the suburbs to create a physical barrier between them and their racial counterparts.[21] As a result of these factors, thousands of residents with the financial freedom to do so began expanding into the towns on the periphery like Hamilton, Ewing, and Lawrence. Many of whom continued to work as state workers or in other capacities inside Trenton while living outside the city. These towns saw unprecedented growth in the post-WWII years in housing developments thanks to VA and FHA loans which were granted to veterans of the war as part of president Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal Reforms.[22] It is important to note that these New Deal programs were especially beneficial to white service members and much historical literature has been written about the exclusionary practices associated with housing loans in relation to African Americans. This is relevant because during and shortly after WWII, the largest wave of black migrants traveled from predominantly southern states to Trenton and other northern cities in search of employment opportunities associated with the mobilization of industry towards the war effort. This search for opportunity overlapped with the decay of Trenton’s largest industries, leaving many black migrants below the poverty line, working menial jobs as opposed to fruitful unionized jobs, and in some cases, out of work completely. Compounding these issues was the inaccessibility of reasonable home loans for members of the black community.

The effects of suburbanization on the local economy of Trenton and its inhabitants can be seen through analysis of the popular media. Pride Magazine was a Trenton-based publication which centered its content around black businesses and black business owners. This specific magazine concerned itself with the failure of local politicians to enact positive change in the form of urban renewal plans which were targeted at improving the infrastructure, housing, and employment opportunities within the city. In March of 1972, Pride Magazine issued a publication titled, “Black Businesses Need Your Help!” which featured a section written by the magazine’s publisher Vance Phillips, who received his college education in Trenton. He wrote, “What are we doing to fill the vacuum of the cities which was created by relocation of the established business” He then goes on to say, “After spending 5 years of planning and developing new programs for structural and economic changes, Trenton Model Cities program has failed to meet the potential growth of new and old businesses in our community.”[23] Phillips like many black Americans living in Trenton during the 1970s saw visible signs of the city’s decline through the failure of local businesses. He believed what was needed to fix this problem was a stronger government response along with increased civic action from specifically the black community.[24]

 In this same publication, Phillips expressed his belief that, “a person who lives within the city should have preference over persons living outside of the cities in terms of employment.”[25] Here the author is addressing those who live in the surrounding suburbs but continue to fill job positions within the city limits. This would have been a popular message to Trenton’s black business owning population due to the negative effects that rapid suburbanization had on small businesses within the city.  In this magazine article, Phillips touches on an number of topics which are extremely relevant to this study. For one, the instability of small businesses in the wake of mass-suburbanization which he observed was largely due to the relocation of both industry and people to outside the city. Mostly ethnically-white Trentonians were leaving the city for the suburbs and taking with them their spending power. With population decline being spearheaded by movements to the suburbs, there simply was not enough money being circulated throughout the city to adequately support the small businesses which propped up its local economy.

Another popular message within this passage highlights that with most of Trenton’s workforce shifting into the surrounding suburbs, so too did its voting power.[26] This left black communities who resided within the urban centers even more powerless as a minority to change their own political environment. Suburbanization brought with it a massive decrease to the city’s population and tax-base. The previously 100,000+ populated city now had just around 80,000 inhabitants by 1970.[27] This rapid population decrease meant that the tax revenue generated was not enough to effectively grapple with the issues facing the economy and the evolving workforce.

Furthermore, local culture within the city which had been forged by America’s largest waves of European immigration in the 19th and early 20th century suffered as a result of deindustrialization and suburbanization. Many of the small businesses and social institutions which had historically characterized the city of Trenton were established by first and second generation Italian, Irish, Polish, and Hungarian immigrants. Many of whom traveled from the larger cities of New York and Philadelphia to find industrial jobs in Trenton. Dennis J. Starr’s book, The Italians of New Jersey, outlines the effects of suburbanization on the “old immigrants” of New Jersey, stating:

The movement to the suburbs and smaller urban places paralleled a major transformation of the state’s urban political economy. Following the war, the state’s largest cities did not participate in the postwar prosperity and economic development. Instead, their industrial bases eroded, their mercantile bases moved to suburban shopping malls and their overall, especially affluent white, populations shrank.[28]

The effect of suburbanization on the local culture of Trenton’s longest serving residents is a source of some historical debate. Cumbler notes that, “Despite suburbanization of the more successful Italians and Slavs, many of Trenton’s ethnic neighborhoods seemed as entrenched as ever in the 1950s.”[29] However, the following decades of the 1950s would see even more of Trenton’s staple “old immigrant” communities relocating to the suburbs and with them their cultural values and traditions. That being said, the cultural diversity of Trenton, New Jersey created by its ethnic melting pot of a history can still be felt today in 2023. Walking the streets of some of its most popular neighborhoods like Chambersburg, one can still see and feel the Italian influence of churches, social clubs, and bar-restaurants in the area. The main point here is that culture did suffer as a result of suburbanization and population decline, but it did not die, it rather faded into a less obvious and less present version of its former self.

            Looking at suburbanization as a major effect of postwar de-industrialization on the city of Trenton provides valuable insight into the cities rise and decline as a manufacturing powerhouse. Like many other rust belt cities of this time period, the trend of suburbanization caused unprecedented changes to the city’s local economy and demographics. The loss of unionized industry jobs encouraged many Trentonians to relocate to the surrounding towns which had recently seen great increases in housing development. In the process, those who left the city unintendedly left Trenton out to dry. Money from the pockets of those who moved to the suburbs was desperately needed to support small businesses in the city and their tax dollars could have been used to make meaningful change to the city’s failing infrastructure. As previously discussed, the local culture of the city also suffered as a result of these consequences which only compounded with each decade of further suburbanization and relocation away from the city. With a decreasing population, aging workforce, and a new wave of migrants without sufficient employment opportunities, the city began to decline into an unrecognizable version of its “Golden Age” of the 1920s.

Trenton’s deindustrialization and its history of racism and inequality are inextricably linked. In 1986, Historian Dennis J. Starr published, History of Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, New Jersey: 1900 – 1960, which acts as one of the foremost important pieces of historical literature on Trenton race-relations. This research clearly establishes a link between deindustrialization and increased racial tensions by claiming:

As industries closed down or reduced their work force it became harder for Afro-American migrants to get a toe hold on the traditional ladder of social mobility–a factory job. Meanwhile the city’s sizable Italian, Polish and Hungarian communities became fearful lest their jobs be eliminated, their neighborhoods integrated. A siege mentality developed in light of the population shifts and exodus of industries, commercial businesses, colleges and government offices.[30]

This “siege mentality” was amplified overtime with the overcrowding of black communities in Trenton and the extension of black-owned or rented residences into shrinking ethnically white neighborhoods.

Between 1950 and 1960, Trenton’s black population rose to 22.8 percent of the total population. As discussed earlier, Trenton was a historically segregated city but in the 1950s and 60s this racial division took on a whole new light given the increases in population and decreases in economic opportunities and industry.[31] Trenton historian Jack Washington described Trenton following WWII stating, “That the 1950s was a period of benign neglect for the Black community is an understatement, for Black people were forgotten while their economic and political troubles continued to mount.”[32] These economic troubles can be seen most clearly through examination of housing segregation in the city and its continued influence on the lives of Trentonians. Along with housing and workplace discrimination, ethnically white residents used black migrants as scapegoats for their city’s economic misfortunes and decline.

            Housing in Trenton, NJ after the postwar years can be characterized as both segregated and worse for wear. Following the largest influx of black immigrants to the city in the late 1940s and early 50s, this new population was largely forced to live in the Coalport and Five Points areas of the city on its interior.[33] Housing opportunities for black residents were few and far between and were in most cases aged and deteriorated. Starr shed light on this inequality revealing, “By 1957 over 80 per cent of the city’s housing was over 50 years old and 20 percent of all housing units were dilapidated or had deficient plumbing.”[34] This was a problem for all city-dwellers and stood as a marker of the city’s decline following deindustrialization. For the black community, this problem was especially real given that the neighborhoods with the worst physical damage and infrastructure were those areas in which they settled. A 1950s survey of the city titled, Negro Housing in Trenton found, “the percentage of substandard housing among the Negro population is four times higher than that for the general population.”[35] Not only were black Trentonians limited in their occupation but also in the location and quality of their housing. This same study of housing in Trenton concluded that 1,200 new residential spaces would have to be erected in order to meet the needs and standards of the city. These spaces were not created and public housing efforts did not meet the requirements of the new growing population.[36]

With little options for housing, a lack of policy action to create new housing, and increases to the population, black migrants had no choice but to expand into Trenton’s old ethnically-white neighborhoods. In the eyes of many in the white majority, black migrants were the corrupting force which acted to take down their beloved city. Declining social and economic conditions in the city paired with old racist tendencies to produce conflict between ethnic groups. Cumbler eloquently explains this clash stating:

The decline of their industrial base narrowed the boundaries of choice for both white and black Trentonians, and in doing so it intensified conflict between them. Increasingly, Trenton’s problems became defined by the city’s white residents in terms of growth of its black population. Actually, its problems had other sources: the loss of its tax base with the closing down of factories, dilapidation of the existing housing stock, and the declining income of its citizens of whatever color.[37]

This excerpt captures the situation in Trenton during the 1950s and 60s in terms of race relations and the overall decline of the city. Racist attitudes were not a new trend in Trenton but were compounded with the arrival of large populations of black migrants. From the white perspective, black migrants were aiding in the destruction of the city. From the black perspective, Trenton did not provide the necessary resources for which they traveled north in search of in the first place.

The 1960s and the Civil Rights era was the historical boiling point for racial tensions and division in Trenton. The influence of the NAACP and other organizations for the advancement of racial equality along with intense riots brought race and class to the forefront of Trenton’s post-industrial issues. Most impactful, Trenton race riots following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. exploded in early April of 1968. These riots lasted for multiple days and resulted in fires erupting around the city as well as over 7 million dollars in damage to over 200 different businesses in Trenton at the time. During the chaos, around 300 mostly young black men were arrested by Trenton Police. The devastating damage to the downtown section of the city caused many to flee and abandon it altogether in the years that followed.[38] It would be unfair to say that these riots were a direct result of deindustrialization in postwar Trenton. However, the city’s history of racial inequality and the compounding forces of racial tension as a result of deindustrialization point to the creation of fertile ground for public outrage. Of course, the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. served as the catalyst for race riots in the city but the broader history of discrimination and inequality in Trenton suggests an intense decades-long build up to the events that unfolded in April of 1968.

Trenton’s rise and fall as an American industrial city is truly a fascinating case study of the post-war era in U.S. history. What was once a manufacturing powerhouse along the Delaware River strategically placed between the two large cities of New York and Philadelphia was reduced to a shadow of its former glory by the 1950s and 60s. The causes of this decline can be found in the removal of industry away from the city following the war effort and signs of economic decline can be traced as far back as the 1920s. The effects of this shift however, remain the most significant in the broader history of the city. Rapid deindustrialization meant that wages and opportunities were significantly limited for all Trentonians but especially for its segregated black community. Many of those who could afford it elected to move to the surrounding suburbs, bringing with them their tax dollars, their votes, and their culture. Lastly, deindustrialization and the consequences of a radically transformed Trenton increased racial tensions in the form of housing and workplace discrimination.

These effects offer new insights into the Trenton of today. Trenton now has a black majority and interestingly, those same areas which housed black migrants in the 1950s on the city’s interior are still today in 2023 the site of high unemployment and low opportunities. Walking the streets of Trenton, one is quickly reminded of its rich history with many of its houses and abandoned factories still standing today as a reminder of the city’s complicated history. A hopeful message could be that a greater understanding of Trenton’s post-war history could provide the necessary insight to create better living conditions and opportunities for all its residents. However, today Trenton remains a city in an intense state of recovery from its industrial past. Historical research has been done to show that urban renewal plans have largely failed to revitalize the city’s economy in the 20th and 21st centuries and issues such as crime, poverty, drug abuse, poor infrastructure, among others continue to loom over the once prosperous city.

            Today, the “Trenton Makes, The World Takes” sign on the Lower Trenton Bridge still stands bright but its meaning has drastically changed since the last century. What was once a beacon of promise and stability is now a constant reminder of how far the city has fallen from its industrial and manufacturing heights.

Upon completing this research paper on Trenton, I gave a lesson to high school world history students at Ewing High school as part of my undergraduate co-teaching field work. Ewing is one of the border towns to the city of Trenton and was one of the most popular destinations for suburbanites who left the city in the 20th century at least in part because of deindustrialization and the city’s overall decline. The proximity of the topic and the familiarity students  had with popular street names, businesses, and buildings in the city created a feeling of relevance that sparked engagement. Students were surprised to be learning about a topic so close to home and they responded with passionate discussion and the creation of meaningful connections which were sparked through a mix of group and whole class discussions.

For social studies teachers, this successful shift from world history topics to a more grass roots approach to teaching local history can be used as a template for future lessons. Topics frequently come up during different units throughout the school year which deeply relate to the local history of wherever kids go to school. For Ewing students, Trenton’s decline as an industrial city directly related to their lived experiences. Many of my students had lived in or around Trenton for most of their lives. This practice of teaching local history to students is not overwhelming nor is it undoable. The same amount of effort it takes to create a lesson in a world history or AP class can be channeled into research dealing with one’s own local environment and history.

This template for teaching local history can be used to generate engagement in the classroom which is unique to any other topic. Once students are given the opportunity to learn and ask questions about their own town, city, home, etc. they begin to view the world through a more historical lens which is the goal of many if not all high school social studies teachers. Overall, my experience with this approach was overwhelmingly positive and I encourage any and all educators to shift their focus for at least one day of the year towards exploring their own local history and connecting it to larger themes within our discipline.

Black Businesses Need Your Help!. Pride Magazine. Trenton Public Library. March 1972. https://www.trentonlib.org/trentoniana/microfilm-newspapers/

Dwyer, William. This Is The Task. Findings of the Trenton, New Jersey Human Relations Self-Survey (Nashville: Fisk University, 1955).

Lee, Helen J. Nigger in the Window. Library of Congress, Internet Archive 1978.

Negro Housing in Trenton: The Housing Committee of the Self Survey. Trenton Public Library. Trentoniana Collection. Ca 1950.

“Negro in the Trenton Labor Market,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library.

“Study of Community Services in Trenton,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library.

Trenton Council of Social Agencies, Study of Northeast Trenton: Population, Housing, Economic, Social and Physical Aspects of the Area. Folder: Study of Northeast Trenton. Box 1: African American Experience. Trentoniana Collection. Trenton Public Library. 1958.

Boustan, Leah Platt. “Black Migration, White Flight: The Effect of Black Migration on Northern Cities and Labor Markets.” The Journal of Economic History 67, no. 2 (2007): 484–88. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4501161.

Cowie, J. & Heathcott, J. Beyond the Ruins: The Meaning of Deindustrialization. Cornell University Press, 2003.

Cumbler, John T. A Social History of Economic Decline: Business, Politics, and Work in Trenton (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989).

Denton, Stacy. “The Rural Past-in-Present and Postwar Sub/Urban Progress.” American Studies 53, no. 2 (2014): 119–40. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24589591.

Division of Labor Market and Demographic Research. New Jersey Population Trends 1790 to 2000 (Trenton, NJ: New Jersey State Data Center, August 2001).

Gibson, Campbell. U.S. Bureau of the Census: Population of the 100 Largest Cities and Other Urban Places in the United States: 1790 – 1990, (Washington D.C.: U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1998).

Jackson, Kenneth T. Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States. Oxford University Press, 1985.

Leynes, Jennifer B. “Three Centuries of African-American History in Trenton.” Trentoniana Collection. Trenton Historical Society. 2011.

Starr, Dennis J. “History of Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, New Jersey, 1900-1960,” Trentoniana Collection. 1986.

Starr, Dennis J. The Italians of New Jersey: A Historical Introduction and Bibliography. New Jersey Historical Society. Newark, NJ. 1985.

Strangleman, Tim, James Rhodes, and Sherry Linkon. “Introduction to Crumbling Cultures: Deindustrialization, Class, and Memory.” International Labor and Working-Class History, no. 84 (2013): 7–22. http://www.jstor.org/stable/43302724.

Sugrue, Thomas J. The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit. (Revised Ed.). Princeton University Press, 2005. Originally published 1996.

Washington, Jack. The Quest for Equality: Trenton’s Black Community 1890-1965. Africa World Press. 1993.


[1] Jack Washington, The Quest for Equality: Trenton’s Black Community 1890-1965, Africa World Press, 1993, 56.

[2] John T. Cumbler, A Social History of Economic Decline: Business, Politics, and Work in Trenton, (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989), 9.

[3] Division of Labor Market and Demographic Research, New Jersey Population Trends 1790 to 2000 (Trenton, NJ: New Jersey State Data Center, August 2001), 23.

[4] Tim Strangleman, James Rhodes, and Sherry Linkon, “Introduction to Crumbling Cultures: Deindustrialization, Class, and Memory.” International Labor and Working-Class History, no. 84 (2013), 19.

[5] Cumbler, A Social History, 132-133.

[6] Campbell Gibson, U.S. Bureau of the Census: Population of the 100 Largest Cities and Other Urban Places in the United States: 1790 – 1990, (Washington D.C.: U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1998)

[7] Division of Labor, New Jersey Population Trends, 26.

[8] Thomas J. Sugrue, The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit, (Revised Ed.), Princeton University Press, 2005, Originally published 1996, 128.

[9] Jefferson, Cowie & Joseph Heathcott, Beyond the Ruins: The Meaning of Deindustrialization, Cornell University Press, 2003. 1-3.

[10] Cumbler, A Social History, 93-95.

[11]Stacy Denton, “The Rural Past-in-Present and Postwar Sub/Urban Progress,” American Studies 53, no. 2 (2014): 119.

[12]Leah P. Boustan, “Black Migration, White Flight: The Effect of Black Migration on Northern Cities and Labor Markets.” The Journal of Economic History 67, no. 2 (2007): 484-485.

[13] Cumbler, A Social History, 147-148.

[14] Cumbler, A Social History, 145.

[15] Helen J. Lee, N—-r in the Window, Library of Congress, Internet Archive 1978, 131.

[16] Sugrue, Urban Crisis, 93-94.

[17] “Study of Community Services in Trenton,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library, 8.

[18] Leah P. Boustan, “Black Migration, White Flight” 485-486.

[19] “Negro in the Trenton Labor Market,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library, 33-34.

[20] Kenneth T. Jackson. Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States, Oxford University Press, 1985, 188.

[21] Stacy Denton, “The Rural Past-in-Present,” 119.

[22] Cumbler, A Social History, 139.

[23] Black Businesses Need Your Help!. Pride Magazine. Trenton Public Library. March 1972, 5

[24] Black Businesses, Pride Magazine, 6

[25] Black Businesses, Pride Magazine, 6-7

[26] Black Businesses, Pride Magazine, 6-7.

[27] Gibson, U.S. Bureau of the Census, 43.

[28] Dennis J. Starr, The Italians of New Jersey: A Historical Introduction and Bibliography, New Jersey Historical Society, Newark, NJ 1985, 54.

[29] Cumbler, A Social History, 148-150.

[30] Dennis J. Starr, “History of Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, New Jersey, 1900-1960,” Trentoniana Collection, 1986, 16-17.

[31] Cumbler, A Social History, 153.

[32] Washington, The Quest for Equality, 136.

[33] Trenton Council of Social Agencies, Study of Northeast Trenton: Population, Housing, Economic, Social and Physical Aspects of the Area, Folder: Study of Northeast Trenton, Box 1: African American Experience, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library, 1958, 53-54.

[34] Starr, Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, 15.

[35] Negro Housing in Trenton: The Housing Committee of the Self Survey, Trenton Public Library, Trentoniana Collection, ca 1950s , 63.

[36] Negro Housing, Housing Committee, 67.

[37] Cumbler, A Social History, 156.

[38] Jennifer B. Leynes, “Three Centuries of African-American History in Trenton,” Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Historical Society. 2011, 3-4.


Forgotten Trails: Unmasking the Legacy of Native American Removal and its Contemporary Implications

Once, in the vast and untamed lands of what is now known as the United States, there thrived a multitude of Native American communities. These diverse and vibrant nations had cultivated rich cultures, deep-rooted traditions, and an intricate understanding of their surroundings. However, as the 19th century unfolded, a dark cloud loomed over these indigenous peoples. In the late 19th century, following a series of conflicts and broken treaties, Native American communities faced forced complete removal from their ancestral lands. The government policies aimed at assimilation and expansion systematically uprooted these communities, displacing them from their homes and severing their ties to their traditions and in 1890, a turning point occurred in Native American history with the forced removal of their communities from their ancestral lands. This displacement was not merely an isolated event but rather part of a broader pattern of marginalization that had persisted for centuries and continues to persist. Yet, despite its undeniable significance, this chapter of American history has largely been forgotten or intentionally overlooked.

The historical marginalization and lack of mainstream attention to the forced removal of Native American communities in U.S. history after 1890 has had profound effects on their social, economic, and political development in contemporary society. This study aims to explore how this neglect and amnesia surrounding the forced removals have contributed to ongoing disparities, underrepresentation, and challenges faced by Native Americans. By relegating this significant chapter of American history to obscurity, society unintentionally perpetuates the cycle of neglect and underrepresentation experienced by Native Americans. The absence of acknowledgment and understanding of the removal policies and their consequences has hindered the recognition of indigenous rights, cultural contributions, and the unique challenges faced by these communities. This research seeks to shed light on this historical oversight and highlight its implications for present-day disparities within Native American communities. By recognizing the impact of historical marginalization, it becomes possible to address current challenges effectively and foster development within these marginalized communities. Through an exploration of relevant literature, primary sources, and historiography, this research will provide a comprehensive understanding of how historical amnesia has shaped the experiences of Native Americans today. By uncovering the underlying causes of ongoing disparities, underrepresentation, and challenges they face, this study aims to contribute to broader efforts towards achieving equity and justice for Native American populations.

The study of the removal of Native Americans after 1890 has long been approached from various perspectives, often reflecting prevailing societal attitudes and biases. Traditional approaches to this topic have tended to focus on a few main ideas namely the notion that Native Americans desired urbanization and the belief that non-Native Americans were providing assistance in their transition. One common argument put forth by traditional studies is that Native Americans willingly sought relocation to urban areas. Proponents of this perspective suggest that indigenous communities recognized the benefits of modernity and sought opportunities for economic advancement through urbanization
        Another idea frequently emphasized in traditional approaches is the assumption that Native Americans were uneducated or culturally deficient compared to non-Native Americans. This perspective suggests that native cultures were inherently inferior and needed intervention from more advanced societies to progress. Consequently, it portrays non-Native American efforts as benevolent attempts to elevate indigenous populations through education, religious conversion, and exposure to Western technologies. In these traditional interpretations, non-Native American involvement was often depicted as an act of assistance rather than forced displacement. Advocates argue that government policies such as the Dawes Act of 1887 aimed at breaking up tribal landholdings into individual allotments were well-intentioned steps toward promoting private property ownership among Native Americans. Similarly, boarding schools designed to eradicate indigenous languages and cultural practices were presented as educational endeavors meant to “civilize” Native American children.

Lastly, the final common approach seen with the study of Native Americans on a broader scale is that Native American history stopped after 1890. Traditional approaches to the study of Native Americans have often treated Native American history as if it came to a standstill after the infamous Wounded Knee Massacre in 1890, perpetuating a skewed and incomplete narrative. This historical tunnel vision neglects the rich and complex tapestry of Native American experiences and contributions beyond that point. It wrongly reinforces the notion that Native Americans exist solely in a historical context, overlooking their vibrant and evolving cultures, traditions, and communities. This approach inadvertently marginalizes contemporary Native voices and their ongoing struggles, creating an inaccurate portrayal of their identity and relevance in modern America.

Overall, the approaches described, in addition to the obvious are problematic because they contribute to historical amnesia surrounding the removal of Native Americans by perpetuating a narrative that downplays the systemic injustices and challenges faced by Native communities during the process of urbanization and relocation. These traditional approaches tend to obscure the agency and resistance of Native Americans, portraying them as passive actors who willingly embraced modernity and external intervention. By emphasizing the supposed benefits of urbanization and the alleged cultural deficiencies of Native cultures, these narratives silence the historical reality of forced displacement, loss of land, and the violation of treaties. They fail to acknowledge the broader context of Native American history, including their resilience and efforts to preserve their cultures in the face of relocation and its effects.

With all of these mentioned ideas in mind imagine having your land taken away, your culture suppressed, and your way of life disrupted. This is the harsh reality that Native Americans faced following the tumultuous period of removal and relocation, particularly after 1890. As the dust settled on a nation rapidly expanding westward, it became increasingly clear that indigenous communities were bearing the brunt of this progress. Following this period marked by forced removals and relocations, these indigenous peoples found themselves grappling with an array of disparities that continued to persist long after their displacement. To begin this study, we will delve into the disparities experienced by Native Americans as a consequence of forced removal and relocation policies implemented during the late 19th century.

The late 19th century marked a pivotal period in the history of Native Americans in the United States, a time when government policies and actions began to create enduring disparities within indigenous communities. At the forefront of these policies was the Dawes Act of 1887, legislation with far-reaching consequences. With the aim of assimilating Native Americans into American society, the Dawes Act of 1887 symbolizes significant inequities and unjust policies imposed on them. This legislation had devastating consequences for indigenous groups by removing essential tribal lands necessary for survival, cultural practices, and economic stability under its allotment system. [1]As a result of inadequate inheritance in land resources, many families suffered from economic challenges leading to loss or dispossession over time. Furthermore, traditional languages and customs were interrupted through mandatory enrolment in boarding schools designed to wipe out native identities entirely. Furthermore, the act crippled governance structures within tribes creating complications when advocating their rights among native communities – currently manifesting itself today as disparities experienced daily by native Americans including poverty levels that remain high, lack quality healthcare access and education along with political under-representation all of which are core legacies felt as a result of the Dawes Act.

Continuing, the Dawes Act’s repercussions would later shape the 1950s’ relocation policies. One of its main outcomes was the relinquishment of valuable tribal lands, frequently transferred to non-Native settlers, limiting Native Americans’ entry into their traditional domains. This deprivation contributed significantly to various economic challenges faced by numerous indigenous communities for years afterward. As a result, decreased land ownership resulted in struggling tribal economies that made Native Americans susceptible and prone to hardships. The Dawes Act and the relocation policies in the 1950s both had assimilation as a central concept. The former sought to do so through land ownership while the latter aimed for urbanization, but their underlying goal was similar: making Native Americans conform to mainstream American society’s ideals. This reflected how federal authorities wanted to alter identities and lifestyles within Indigenous communities at that time. Basically, the Dawes Act set the stage for economic fragility and property deprivation which led to some policymakers finding urban relocation policies in the 1950s more desirable. The act’s effects of taking away land from Native Americans and interfering with their customary way of life established a foundation for inequalities and difficulties encountered by these communities. This ultimately made them easier targets for future initiatives focused on promoting urbanization or moving elsewhere during the 1950s.

Moving forward, in the 1950s, Native Americans were coerced into relocating to urban areas in order to achieve economic self-sufficiency and assimilate into mainstream society. Commissioned by Bureau of Indian Affairs commissioner Dillon S. Myer the relocation program was launched with the aim of relocating reservation-based Native Americans to urban environments, providing promises such as educational and occupational opportunities, transportation services, housing provisions and everyday necessities. Although this lured over thirty thousand participants; inadequate funding led to poor execution which left many re-locators facing inferior living conditions coupled with gender-segregated low-level jobs that eventually forced them back home. [2] Despite its shortcomings however it can’t be ignored that some relocated Native Americans thrived in cities securing upward socioeconomic mobility by being pro-active in the process of organizing and establishing themselves. As a result, these Native Americans were able to advocate for better livelihoods on reserves, but this was not a common happening. Ultimately, the 1950’s relocation policies failed to fulfill their objectives as many individuals lacked the necessary skills for city life due to emphasis on quantity over quality during recruitment. Consequently, they experienced racial discrimination and limited job opportunities while residing in low-income neighborhoods despite some meager benefits of relocation that favored those with initial job expertise. [3] This historic instance highlights disparities encountered by Native American communities through government policies that lacked adequate support which would eventually lead them towards developing pan-Indian social institutions amidst harsh living situations. These occurrences are consistent with the historical experiences of Native Americans within urban environments illustrating the overlooked complexities faced historically across the developmental stages of these regions.

Furthermore, after the failure of the relocation act and the increasing issues it caused in its attempt to force urbanization on to Native Americans the disparities they faced as result only increased. After the relocation act of the 1950’s, the 1960’s brought new hope to the Native Americans with the emergence of the Civil Rights movement. Despite the promises of social and political change during the Civil Rights era, Native American communities continued to face significant challenges. The termination policy, which aimed to assimilate Native Americans into mainstream society, led to the loss of tribal sovereignty and the dispossession of lands. This policy resulted in economic instability and the erosion of traditional cultural practices. Additionally, the forced relocation of many Native American families from reservations to urban areas disrupted their social fabric and often led to poverty and social marginalization. These challenges and the disparities faced by Native Americans would cease to end even as changes came about for other minority groups this is evident by the “Longest Walk” protest. In the 1970s, Native American activists staged a protest in Washington D.C. called the “Longest Walk,” which brought to light the longstanding disparities faced by their communities. These inequalities were largely impacted by governmental policies and legislation that threatened fundamental rights such as land ownership, access to water and fishing resources, treaty alteration or elimination of reservation systems. These protesters understood that these legal provisions weren’t just mere abstractions but intricately woven into cultural identity and economic sustenance for indigenous people’s survival.[4] Even though this was a peaceful demonstration it highlighted many unaddressed issues inherent with historical wrongdoings towards Indigenous peoples. This event serves as evidence of an ongoing struggle against oppression where multifaceted disparities continue to exist related not only within educational attainment gaps but also unequal healthcare opportunities due mainly because race-based discrimination persists even today. Additionally, the fact that such legislative proposals were considered as late as the 1970s emphasizes that even in modern times, Native Americans grapple with legislative threats that have the potential to perpetuate their marginalization, illustrating that these disparities remain relevant and pressing issues in the present day.

The disparities outlined in this section strongly demonstrate how the neglect and historical amnesia surrounding the forced removals have played a pivotal role in perpetuating the ongoing challenges faced by Native Americans. The Dawes Act of 1887 and the 1950s relocation policies, both driven by the goal of assimilation into mainstream American society, inflicted lasting damage on indigenous communities. These policies resulted in the loss of tribal lands, economic instability, cultural erosion, and social marginalization, creating a foundation of inequality that continues to shape Native American experiences. The subsequent civil rights era did not bring significant relief, as termination policies persisted, further undermining tribal sovereignty and land ownership. The “Longest Walk” protest of the 1970s highlighted the enduring disparities related to land, resources, and cultural identity that continue to plague Native communities. These historical injustices, neglected for so long, have left a lasting imprint, contributing to the disparities in education, healthcare, and political representation still experienced by Native Americans today, underscoring the argument that acknowledging and addressing this historical legacy is crucial to addressing these ongoing challenges.

Moving forward, in the previous section, we delved into the significant disparities that Native Americans experience across various domains, including healthcare, education, and socioeconomic status. However, it is important to recognize that these disparities are not isolated incidents but rather part of a larger pattern of underrepresentation faced by Native Americans in contemporary society. This section aims to shed light on this critical issue and explore how Native Americans continue to be marginalized and overlooked within systems that shape their lives. By examining the various aspects of underrepresentation, such as inadequate political representation, limited media visibility, and exclusion from decision-making processes, we can gain a comprehensive understanding of the multifaceted challenges faced by Native American communities today. Through an analysis of these underrepresented perspectives, we can contribute to ongoing efforts towards achieving greater equity and inclusivity for all individuals in our diverse society including the Native Americans.

To start off, the history of Native Americans has suffered from a consistent pattern of marginalization and misrepresentation in dominant societal narratives. This regrettable circumstance has resulted in many prevalent misunderstandings, misconceptions, and knowledge gaps when it comes to essential aspects related to the rich cultural heritage that defines each tribe’s unique traditions and experiences. Furthermore, this persistent systemic under-representation issue is not limited only to these crucial historical elements but also encompasses an immediate threat regarding indigenous languages’ endangered status along with their respective rituals or customary practices. Consequently, there exists a critical risk linked with the disappearing traditional elements integral towards forming Native identity amidst modern times – making preservation efforts necessary for combating culture erasure as well as safeguarding ancient customs vital toward uniquely defining those who still maintain them today. Additionally, it is important to acknowledge that the underrepresentation of Native Americans in modern discourse and media coverage not only pertains to historical injustices but also extends towards contemporary challenges faced by Indigenous communities. These adversities encompass issues such as poverty, healthcare disparities, and political obstacles which are oftentimes disregarded or downplayed within public discussions. The failure to adequately report on these matters impedes progress towards enacting effective policy changes and support systems for Native American peoples who continue to suffer from systemic marginalization.

An emblematic example of this broader issue of Native American underrepresentation in the United States is found in an examination of the lack of acknowledgement of Native American communities within the state by the state of Pennsylvania. The historical denial of the existence of Native Americans in Pennsylvania serves as a noteworthy example of underrepresentation perpetuated by public institutions. This denial results in Native American communities not receiving official recognition or acknowledgment, therefore rendering them largely invisible within the state’s records and narratives. The absence of official status places these groups at a disadvantage – lacking legal rights, resources and opportunities that come with full acknowledgement. Moreover, this lack further contributes to their underrepresentation. Denying their cultural contributions creates an even greater disconnection from history, amplifying this invisibility throughout public awareness about Pennsylvania’s past[5].  Furthermore, it is distressing to recount how societal pressure forced many members of Native American tribes in Pennsylvania into concealing ancestry leading towards the erasure of cultural identity  – ultimately creating another form of ongoing-under-representation for Native Americans.

Moving forward, we will be focusing primarily on the political underrepresentation of the Native Americans. However, it is important to understand that the underrepresentation of Native Americans is a multifaceted issue that transcends the and extends deep into various aspects of American society. While the lack of political representation is a significant concern, it is important to note that it is just one facet of a broader pattern of systemic inequity and marginalization that Native American communities grapple with. Recognizing that underrepresentation is not confined solely to the political arena, is crucial to adopt a thorough approach that addresses these interconnected issues.

Continuing on, the late 19th and early 20th centuries were a time of significant political transformation for the United States. As the nation grappled with industrialization, urbanization, and the expansion of democratic ideals, various marginalized groups strove to gain representation within the political arena. However, one group that often remains overlooked in this narrative is Native Americans. Despite their rich cultural heritage deeply intertwined with the American landscape, Native Americans found themselves systematically excluded from meaningful participation in the political process. Continuing into this section we will dive into an examination of how Native Americans experienced political underrepresentation during this crucial period. By shedding light on this lesser-known aspect of American history, we can better understand the complexities surrounding democracy’s development and confront enduring issues related to Indigenous rights and representation.

To truly gain and understand the development of the intense political underrepresentation of Native Americans we have to take step back in time, particular to the year 1878 when the Washington Constitutional Convention would convene. The Washington Constitutional Convention of 1878 stands as a pivotal moment in American history, particularly concerning the political underrepresentation of Native Americans. Held during a time when the nation was grappling with issues of equality and inclusion, this convention shed light on the deep-rooted injustices faced by indigenous communities. The proceedings not only highlighted the systemic marginalization of Native Americans but also sparked conversations that would shape future legislation and advocacy efforts aimed at rectifying these longstanding disparities. During this era, Native Americans across the United States were consistently denied their basic rights to political participation. Discriminatory policies and practices had effectively silenced their voices and hindered their ability to influence decisions that directly impacted their lives. This disenfranchisement was acutely felt in Washington state, where tribal nations faced numerous challenges in asserting their political power.

 At the convention, the creators of Washington State’s Constitution made significant choices that directly impacted Native American involvement in politics and representation. One such choice was excluding non-citizens from voting, which affected many Natives as their tribal affiliations rendered them ineligible for citizenship. This exclusion prevented a large portion of Native Americans from participating until 1924 when the Indian Citizenship Act was passed. Furthermore, although there were Indigenous representatives present at this meeting, they did not have any power to vote which resulted in inadequately considering native perspectives during constitution drafting – leading to underrepresentation within political processes across the state. In addition, the 1878 constitution confirmed Washington’s indigenous tribes’ limited sovereignty by placing them under strict jurisdiction where self-governance could be undermined. Additionally, voting restrictions imposed disproportionate property requirements on natives impeding fair opportunities towards meaningful participation or political representation. [6] Notably, these decisions continue impacting today’s policies & governance locally with these communities still facing challenges asserting rightful political rights while maintaining sufficient influence over local affairs.

Furthermore, after the convention in 1878, a significant period of political underrepresentation was set off in the United States. This era was characterized by a combination of legal, cultural, and socio-political factors that marginalized Native American voices in the national political landscape. As mentioned previously, after the passage of the Dawes Act in 1887, Native American lands were dramatically reduced through allotment, often leading to the loss of tribal communal ownership and self-governance. The imposition of citizenship and land ownership requirements for voting further disenfranchised Native Americans, as many were deemed unfit to vote due to their tribal affiliations or lack of individual property. For example, various state constitutions, such as North Dakota’s in 1889, introduced clauses demanding that Native Americans sever tribal ties to be eligible to vote. This effectively disconnected them from their tribal communities and cultural identities. Not only did this impact their involvement in tribal governance, but it also hindered their political representation in state and national politics. Additionally, the federal government’s policies of forced assimilation and the establishment of Indian boarding schools which aimed to eradicate Native cultures and languages also dealt a serious blow to the political representation of Native Americans. This cultural assault hindered Native Americans’ political participation by disconnecting them from their traditional forms of governance and communal decision-making. Native Americans were also not afforded equal opportunities for education and employment, which further in return additionally limited their political influence. [7] Continuing, the Indian Reorganization Act of 1934 represented a partial shift in federal policy, allowing tribes to reconstitute their governments and regain some measure of self-determination. This brief positive shift after 1934, however, wouldn’t be long lived as it following the trend would be undermined by the shift that would occur in the 1940’s.

The 1940s would mark a critical turning point in Native American policy in the United States, heralding a shift that significantly deepened political underrepresentation of Indigenous peoples. This era was characterized by a series of policy changes and legislative actions that not only neglected the voices and interests of Native American communities but actively marginalized them. During the 1940s, there was a significant transformation in government policies towards Native Americans. These changes led to a reduction of tribal sovereignty and autonomy as the government began considering terminating its responsibilities to these communities[8]. Influential members of Congress advocated for assimilating Native Americans into mainstream society while seeking to shift decision-making authority away from them. Simultaneously, states were pressuring federal authorities to withdraw their obligations regarding indigenous populations. The overarching objective was economic and social rehabilitation; however, such policies often disregarded unique cultural and political needs required by these communities. [9] This era is marked by a pivotal shift in Native American policy that had long-lasting consequences on their political representation and self-determination.

This shift would continue through the 1950’s with the previously mentioned relocation policies put in place. However, as we enter the 1960’s another shift occurs with the emergence of the African American Civil Rights movement. The Civil Rights Movement brought about a significant change in Native American political representation. Initially aimed at addressing the rights of African Americans, its principles resonated with other marginalized groups such as Native Americans, who also sought equal treatment and non-discrimination. The passing of two legislative acts – the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Voting Rights Act of 1965 facilitated greater access to voting for minorities by eliminating discriminatory practices like voter literacy tests and poll taxes that had long plagued native communities. Inspired by these changes, activists emerged from within local tribes seeking self-determination which ultimately led to increased participation in politics resulting in greater engagement on all levels-locally statewide and even federally.

Although the Voting Rights Act of 1965 aimed to eradicate racial discrimination in voting and grant Native Americans full participation in elections, their communities still faced political underrepresentation due to various challenges. These obstacles encompassed issues such as gerrymandering, voter identification requirements, and limited access to polling places on reservations or rural areas. These circumstances adversely impacted Native American voters’ capacity for exercising their democratic rights effectively. [10] Furthermore, a lack of representation at both state legislatures and federal levels persisted throughout subsequent elections — underscoring an ongoing struggle toward inclusive politics that continues today. Even with advancements made through the Voting Rights Act, these barriers demonstrate how deep-seated inequities continue denying fair political representation for Indigenous peoples across America. A prime example of the continuing political underrepresentation that followed the Voting Rights Act is the campaigns for the election of 1972. The campaigns for the election of 1972 underscore the persistent lack of political representation for Native Americans, even in the aftermath of the 1965 Voting Rights Act. It is evident that Native American concerns remained marginalized as both presidential candidates in the 1972 election, George McGovern and Richard Nixon, primarily focused on broader national issues like foreign policy and economic reforms, neglecting specific Native American issues. The campaigns further highlight a historical pattern of unfulfilled promises and pledges of support, further indicating that Native American voices were not adequately heard or represented in the political discourse. Furthermore, Nixon’s decision to reduce the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) budget by nearly $50 million exemplifies a lack of commitment to addressing the unique challenges and needs of Native American communities. Additionally, the campaigns brought attention to the historical trust-based relationship between the United States and Native Americans, which has often been unfulfilling and marked by neglected promises. [11] Overall, despite the enactment of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, the political underrepresentation of Native Americans persisted, as demonstrated by the government’s ongoing failure to address their specific concerns and needs as evidenced by the 1972 election campaigns.

Before we bring this study to an end, in order to provide a more comprehensive picture, it is important to acknowledge the rise of movement for Native American rights that began to develop during the end of the time frame discussed here. Serving as a culmination of the enduring disparities and underrepresentation faced by Native Americans for centuries the Red Power Movement developed in the late 1960s and 1970s. Emerging as a response to these long-standing injustices, the movement sought to address issues such as tribal sovereignty, land rights, cultural preservation, and political activism. The Red Power Movement played a crucial role in raising awareness and advocating for the rights of Native Americans in contemporary American society. While it paved the way for significant progress, Indigenous communities continue to grapple with ongoing challenges, including poverty, healthcare disparities, and political obstacles. [12]These disparities persist, emphasizing the need for continued advocacy and change. However, it’s important to note that the comprehensive examination of the Red Power Movement and its contemporary implications lies beyond the scope of this study, which primarily focuses on the historical context and challenges faced by Native Americans during earlier periods.

Ultimately, the underrepresentation both politically and in general detailed in this section intensely shines a light on how the neglect and amnesia surrounding the forced removals of Native Americans have played a significant role in perpetuating the disparities and challenges faced by these communities. The historical narrative reveals how Native Americans have consistently been excluded from meaningful participation in various aspects of American society, including politics, despite their rich cultural heritage and contributions to the nation. This exclusion extends to the denial of basic rights, voting restrictions, and the erosion of tribal sovereignty. Even after legislative efforts like the Voting Rights Act of 1965 which was aimed at ensuring equal political participation, barriers persisted such as gerrymandering and limited polling access, demonstrating ongoing obstacles to representation. In addition, the focus in the 1972 election campaigns serves as a poignant example of how Native American concerns have been marginalized in national politics. This pattern culminated in the emergence of the Red Power Movement in the late 1960s and 1970s which further pushed the need for advocacy and change in response to deep-rooted disparities. Additionally, this historical underrepresentation and discrimination contribute to the idea that acknowledging and addressing these past injustices and the pattern of underrepresentation are crucial steps toward rectifying the ongoing challenges faced by Native American communities and achieving greater equity and inclusivity.

In conclusion, the involuntary displacement of Native American communities from their traditional lands during the late 19th century and subsequent ignorance about this period in U.S. history have had significant repercussions that still impact Indigenous people today. The marginalization and lack of acknowledgment these occurrences received has contributed to ongoing inequalities, limited representation, and hardships faced by Native Americans and neglecting past injustices has continued a pattern of disregard for indigenous  peoples’ rights which perpetuates further neglect and subordination meant toward them.

Furthermore, the research has highlighted that government policies, such as the Dawes Act and relocation policies of the 1950s, had profound and lasting effects on Native American communities. These policies aimed at assimilation and urbanization disrupted traditional ways of life, eroded tribal sovereignty, and contributed to economic instability. The consequences of these policies are high poverty levels with limited access to quality healthcare and education and political underrepresentation which affects Native Americans even today. Moreover, along with these consequences, light is shed on the matter of political underrepresentation faced by Native Americans throughout history. Starting from exclusionary policies adopted at Washington Constitutional Convention in 1878 to harmful transformations in federal policy during the 1940s; Native Americans have been systemically oppressed within political procedures. Continuing, despite having The Voting Rights Act introduced in 1965, hindrances such as gerrymandering, and voter ID requirements still hinder their impact over politics.

Additionally, the research has also highlighted how the underrepresentation of Native Americans extends beyond politics and encompasses various aspects of American society, including education, healthcare, employment, and media representation. Recognizing the impact of historical amnesia and underrepresentation, it becomes clear that addressing current challenges and fostering development within Native American communities is essential. By shedding light on these historical oversights and their implications for present-day disparities, this research aims to contribute to broader efforts toward achieving equity and justice for Native American populations. Acknowledging their rich cultural heritage, enduring resilience, ongoing struggle for rights and representation are crucial steps towards rectifying past injustices while building a more inclusive society equitable for everyone including the Native Americans.

Burt, Larry W. “Roots of the Native American Urban Experience: Relocation Policy in the 1950s.” American Indian Quarterly 10, no. 2 (1986): 85–99. https://doi.org/10.2307/1183982.  

“Dawes Act of 1887.” National Archives Catalog , 2016. https://catalog.archives.gov/id/5641587.  

Jacobs, Michelle R. Indigenous memory, urban reality stories of American Indian relocation and reclamation. New York: New York University Press, 2023.

Legislative Review 1, no. 12 (1972). https://jstor-org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/community.28145368.   

Minderhout, David, and Andrea Frantz. “Invisible Indians: Native Americans in Pennsylvania.” Human Organization 67, no. 1 (2008): 61–67. http://www.jstor.org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/44127040.

“Resolution Regarding Native Americans Adopted at the Washington Territory Constitutional Convention, July 17, 1878.” University of Washington Libraries. Special Collections Division. ; Washington Territory Records. Accession No. 4284-001, Box 3. Accessed September 26, 2023. https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsbas&AN=edsbas.73849FE4&site=eds-live&scope=site.  

Treuer, David. “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present.” Amazon, 2020. https://www.amazon.com/Heartbeat-Wounded-Knee-America-Present/dp/0399573194.  

Tyler, S. Lyman. A history of indian policy. Washington D.C.: United States Department of the Interior, Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1973.

Wolfley, Jeanette. “Jim Crow, Indian Style: The Disenfranchisement of Native Americans.” American Indian Law Review 16, no. 1 (1991): 167–202. https://doi.org/10.2307/20068694.   “‘Longest Walk,’ Protest March to Oppose Abrogation of All Native American Treaties and the Genocide of Indian People.” Accessed September 26, 2023. https://jstor.org/stable/community.34557616


[1]  “Dawes Act of 1887,” National Archives Catalog , 2016, https://catalog.archives.gov/id/5641587.

[2] Larry W. Burt, “Roots of the Native American Urban Experience: Relocation Policy in the 1950s,” American Indian Quarterly 10, no. 2 (1986): 85–99, https://doi.org/10.2307/1183982.

[3] Michelle R. Jacobs, Indigenous Memory, Urban Reality Stories of American Indian Relocation and Reclamation (New York: New York University Press, 2023).

[4] “‘Longest Walk,’ Protest March to Oppose Abrogation of All Native American Treaties and the Genocide of Indian People,” accessed September 26, 2023, https://jstor.org/stable/community.34557616 .

[5] David Minderhout and Andrea Frantz, “Invisible Indians: Native Americans in Pennsylvania,” Human Organization 67, no. 1 (2008): 61–67, http://www.jstor.org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/44127040.

[6] “Resolution Regarding Native Americans Adopted at the Washington Territory Constitutional Convention, July 17, 1878,” University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections Division, Washington Territory Records, Accession No. 4284-001, Box 3, accessed September 26, 2023.”

[7] S. Lyman Tyler, A History of Indian Policy (Washington D.C.: United States Department of the Interior, Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1973).

[8] David Treuer, “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present,” Amazon, 2020, https://www.amazon.com/Heartbeat-Wounded-Knee-America-Present/dp/0399573194.

[9] S. Lyman Tyler, A History of Indian Policy (Washington D.C.: United States Department of the Interior, Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1973).

[10] Jeanette Wolfley, “Jim Crow, Indian Style: The Disenfranchisement of Native Americans,” American Indian Law Review 16, no. 1 (1991): 167–202, https://doi.org/10.2307/20068694.

[11] Legislative Review 1, no. 12 (1972), https://jstor-org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/community.28145368.

[12] David Treuer, “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present,” Amazon, 2020, https://www.amazon.com/Heartbeat-Wounded-Knee-America-Present/dp/0399573194.


 

 

New York’s Education Wars a Century Ago Show How Content Restrictions Can Backfire

Bill Greer

 Reprinted with permission from https://historynewsnetwork.org/article/185878

Matthew Hawn, a high school teacher for sixteen years in conservative Sullivan County, Tennessee, opened the 2020-21 year in his Contemporary Issues class with a discussion of police shootings.  White privilege is a fact, he told the students.  He had a history of challenging his classes, which led to lively discussions among those who agreed and disagreed with his views.  But this day’s discussion got back to a parent who objected.  Hawn apologized – but didn’t relent.  Months later, with more parents complaining, school officials reprimanded him for assigning “The First White President,” an essay by Ta-Nehisi Coates, which argues that white supremacy was the basis for Donald Trump’s presidency.  After another incident in April, school officials fired him for insubordination and unprofessional behavior.

Days later, Tennessee outlawed his teaching statewide, placing restrictions on what could be taught about race and sex.  Students should learn “the exceptionalism of our nation,” not “things that inherently divide or pit either Americans against Americans or people groups against people groups,” Governor Bill Lee announced.  The new laws also required advance notice to parents of instruction on sexual orientation, gender identity, and contraception, with an option to withdraw their children.

Over the past three years, at least 18 states have enacted laws governing what is and is not taught in schools. Restricted topics mirror Tennessee’s, focusing on race, gender identity, and sexual orientation.  In some cases, legislation bans the more general category of “divisive concepts,” a term coined in a 2020 executive order issued by the Trump administration and now promoted by conservative advocates.  In recent months, Florida has been at the forefront of extending such laws to cover political ideology, mandating lessons that communism could lead to the overthrow of the US government.  Even the teaching of mathematics has not escaped Florida politics, with 44 books banned for infractions like using race-based examples in word problems.

In a sense the country is stepping back a century to when a similar hysteria invaded New York’s schools during the “Red Scare” at the end of World War I, when fear of socialism and Bolshevism spread throughout the US.  New York City launched its reaction in 1918 when Mayor John Francis Hylan banned public display of the red flag.  He considered the Socialist Party’s banner “an insignia for law hating and anarchy . . .  repulsive to ideals of civilization and the principles upon which our Government is founded.”

In the schools, Benjamin Glassberg, a teacher at Commercial High School in Brooklyn, was cast in Matthew Hawn’s role.  On January 14, 1919, his history class discussed Bolshevism.  The next day, twelve students, about one-third, signed a statement that their teacher had portrayed Bolshevism as a form of political expression not nearly so black as people painted it.  The students cited specifics Glassberg gave them – that the State Department forbade publishing the truth about Bolshevism; that Red Cross staff with first-hand knowledge were prevented from talking about conditions in Russia; that Lenin and Trotsky had undermined rather than supported Germany and helped end the war.  The school’s principal forwarded the statement to Dr. John L. Tildsley, Associate Superintendent of Schools, who suspended Glassberg, pending a trial by the Board of Education.

Glassberg’s trial played out through May.  Several students repeated the charges in their statement, while others testified their teacher had said nothing disrespectful to the US government.  Over that period, the sentiments of school officials became clear.  Dr. Tildsley proclaimed that no person adhering to the Marxian program should become a teacher in the public schools, and if discovered should be forced to resign.  He would be sending to everyone in the school system a circular making clear that “Americanism is to be put above everything else in classroom study.”  He directed teachers to correct students’ opinions contrary to fundamental American ideas. The Board of Education empowered City Superintendent William Ettinger to undertake an “exhaustive examination into the life, affiliations, opinions, and loyalty of every member” of the teachers union.  Organizations like the National Security League and the American Defense Society pushed the fight against Bolshevism across the country.

After the Board declared Glassberg guilty, the pace picked up.  In June, the city’s high school students took a test entitled  Examination For High Schools on the Great War.  The title was misleading.  The first question was designed to assess students’ knowledge of and attitude toward Bolshevism.  The instructions to principals said this question was of greatest interest and teachers should highlight any students who displayed an especially intimate knowledge of that subject.  The results pleased school officials when only 1 in 300 students showed any significant knowledge of or leaning toward Bolshevism.  The “self-confessed radicals” would be given a six-month course on the “economic and social system recognized in America.”  Only if they failed that course would their diplomas be denied.

In September, the state got involved.  New York Attorney General Charles D. Newton called for “Americanization,” describing it as “intensive instruction in our schools in the ideals and traditions of America.”  Also serving as counsel to the New York State Legislative Committee to Investigate Bolshevism, commonly known as the Lusk Committee after its chairman, Newton was in a position to make it happen.  In January 1920, Lusk began hearings on education.  Tildsly, Ettinger, and Board of Education President Anning S. Prawl all testified in favor of an Americanization plan.

In April, the New York Senate and Assembly passed three anti-Socialist “Lusk bills.”  The “Teachers’ Loyalty” bill required public school teachers to obtain from the Board of Regents a Certificate of Loyalty to the State and Federal Constitutions and the country’s laws and institutions.  “Sorely needed,” praised the New York Times, a long-time advocate for Americanization in the schools.  But any celebration was premature.  Governor Alfred E. Smith had his objections.  Stating that the Teacher Loyalty Bill “permits one man to place upon any teacher the stigma of disloyalty, and this even without hearing or trial,” he vetoed it along with the others.  Lusk and his backers would have to wait until the governor’s election in November when Nathan L. Miller beat Smith in a squeaker.  After Miller’s inauguration, the Legislature passed the bills again.  Miller signed them in May despite substantial opposition from prominent New Yorkers.

Over the next two years, the opposition grew.  Even the New York Times backed off its unrelenting anti-Socialist stance.  With the governor’s term lasting only two years, opponents got another chance in November, 1922, in a Smith-Miller rematch.  Making the Lusk laws a major issue, Smith won in a landslide.  He announced his intention to repeal the laws days after his inauguration.  Lusk and his backers fought viciously but the Legislature finally passed repeal in April.  Calling the teacher loyalty law (and a second Lusk law on private school licensing) “repugnant to the fundamentals of American democracy,” Smith signed their repeal.

More than any other factor, the experience of the teachers fueled the growing opposition to the Teachers’ Loyalty bill.  After its enactment, state authorities administered two oaths to teachers statewide.  That effort didn’t satisfy Dr. Frank P. Graves, State Commissioner of Education.  In April 1922, he established the Advisory Council on Qualifications of Teachers of the State of New York to hear cases of teachers charged with disloyalty.  He appointed Archibald Stevenson, counsel to the Lusk committee and arch-proponent of rooting out disloyalty in the schools, as one member.  By summer the Council had earned a reputation as a witch hunt.  Its activities drew headlines such as Teachers Secretly Quizzed on Loyalty and Teachers Defy Loyalty Court.  Teachers and principals called before it refused to attend.  Its reputation grew so bad that New York’s Board of Education asked for its abolishment and the President of the Board told teachers that they need not appear if summoned.

A lesson perhaps lies in that experience for proponents of restrictions on what can be taught today.  Already teachers, principals, and superintendents risk fines and termination from violating laws ambiguous on what is and is not allowed.  The result has been a chilling environment where educators simply avoid controversial issues altogether.  Punishing long-time and respected teachers – like Matthew Hawn, whom dozens of his former students defend – will put faces on the fallout from the laws being passed.  How long before a backlash rears up, as it did in New York over Teachers’ Loyalty?


“Just a Few Thousand” – the Moral Questions Facing New Teachers

Mark Pearcy

I taught for nineteen years in public schools before joining higher education, and I can honestly say that I was never more shocked than I was in my second year, during a class in U.S. history. That year, I had a student named Chris. Likable, athletic (a pitcher on the baseball team), Chris wasn’t particularly gifted or hardworking, content with regular C’s and the occasional B. He didn’t talk much in class, except to girls; rarely participating in class discussions. This changed when we started our unit on the Holocaust.

            All the students knew the basic history of the topic, some more informed than others—but all students were thoroughly engaged when we talked about the death camps, the experiments, and the usual round of questions: “Why didn’t more fight back?” “Did they ever catch the ones who did it?” “How many died?”

            It was the last question that brought Chris into the discussion. A student had called out the question, and another had spontaneously answered: “Millions.” Chris raised his hand; surprised, I called on him.

            “Actually, I heard it was different than that,” he said.

            “Well, that’s true,” I responded. Privately, I was delighted he was taking part—while the Holocaust is a grim subject, it usually serves the pedagogical purpose of getting quiet students off the sideline and into the argument. “The total number killed in the Holocaust was around eleven million. Jewish victims made up six million of those.”

“No, actually I heard it was less.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, I heard it was just a few thousand.” He nodded in response to my surprised look. “I heard they got the number ‘six million’ by adding up all the generations of kids that would have been born to the actual victims.”

I was stunned. This was not only patently, demonstrably absurd—it was also directly from the rhetoric of neo-Nazis and Holocaust deniers. Trying hard to maintain composure, I asked him: “Where did you hear that?”

            He shrugged again.  “My father.”

The question facing a new teacher like me was difficult—should I have corrected Chris? Should I have told him his father was flatly wrong? Or worse, should I have told him that his father was repeating nauseating rhetoric that had been zoned off for the worst, vilest purveyors of bigotry? Incidentally, to make matters more complicated, I knew Chris’ father—like his son, an amiable, likeable man, who certainly didn’t seem to me the type of person who would repeat wildly inaccurate beliefs about the Holocaust. But what should be done?

I corrected Chris. Quickly, and bluntly, in front of the class. “That’s wrong,” I told him, and proceeded to drill him with the facts and evidence in my corner. I’m certain there are many teachers that would dispute my decision, and say that dealing with Chris’ error in that manner was too direct; or, even more likely, that dealing with it at all, especially in the second year of my career, was skirting the possibility of professional suicide, especially today, when the pressure and scrutiny aimed at teachers is worse than ever before.

All this would be reasonable criticism. Certainly, I make no grand claims to courage, seeing as I how I was teaching in an era of educator independence which, nowadays, we can seemingly only remember through the misty lens of nostalgia. My reaction was instantaneous precisely because I didn’t think about professional consequences. In fact, I had only one thought about Chris at the moment—“I can’t let him go on believing that.”

The lesson of Chris, and “just a few thousand,” is one of which new teachers are aware. There is a moral component to what we do in the classroom, one that applies to all subject areas. When we teach, we not only want to foster academic skills and achievement, we want to help children develop into good people. This is a concept of which many teachers are leery, and it’s hard to blame them—since for many, both in the classroom and out, it can sound quite a lot like indoctrination. But when we, through our schools, produce adults who are incapable of critically analyzing the issues of the world and their own lives—that would be the product of indoctrination. Instead, our goal, as Nel Noddings puts it, is invested in “a commitment to building a world in which it is both possible and desirable for children to be good—a world in which children are happy” (Noddings, 2003, p. 2).

Certainly, helping students find a worthwhile and lucrative career is important, as is helping them to acquire the habits of mind that accompany any field of study. But all teachers, in all disciplines, will sooner or later face situations where students believe an idea, or adopt a behavior, which endangers the successful achievement of the goal we seek, a world in which children can be “good.”

But how do we know what that means, to be “good?” Isn’t this is a matter of debate, and isn’t it dangerous for teachers to put themselves in the midst of such debate?

Of course. But that’s part of the job, as much as helping students learn to multiply and divide, or write clear sentences, or construct a logical argument. As teachers, we are representatives of a broader culture, one committed to a series of values that, as a community, we’ve deemed worth promoting and defending. Yes, there are gray areas, but far more often, the answers we have are clearer than we might want to accept.

Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, in the 1964 case Jacobellis v. Ohio, offered a succinct definition of obscenity—“I know it when I see it.” When confronting with morally impermissible views, teachers are a bulwark of civilization and morality—and though very often there may be debate about whether or not we should intervene, often (perhaps too often) there is no debate at all. We know it when we see it, and we should have the courage of our own convictions, and faith in the goals of our profession, to act.

References

Noddings, N. (2003). Happiness and education. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. United States Supreme Court. (1964). Jacobellis v. Ohio. Retrieved from http://www.law.cornell.edu/supct/html/historics/USSC_CR_0378_0184_ZC1.html

New Jersey’s Slavery Past

Deborah P. Carter

The Howe House on Claremont Avenue in Montclair

Reprinted with permission from New Jersey Monthly, “Montclair’s Howe House a Testament to NJ’s Uncomfortable and Dark Past,” https://njmonthly.com/articles/towns-schools/history/montclair-howe-house/

In 1831, James Howe was deeded 6 acres and a small house on Claremont Avenue in Montclair. That house still stands. For many years, the worn clapboard house was known locally as the slave house. James Howe was owned by Nathaniel Crane. A member of one of the town’s founding families, Crane left the property to Howe (rumored to be his son) upon his death.

American slavery began in 1619 and eventually spread to all 13 colonies. By the late 1700s, Garden State neighbors like Pennsylvania, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, followed 20 years later by New York, began adopting policies to abolish legal human bondage. New Jersey, however, was slow to outlaw the practice and adopted brutal laws restricting rights, including reading, writing, and ownership of firearms and property, for the nearly 12,000 enslaved Africans who lived here at the turn of the 19th century. After 185 years of slavery in New Jersey, in 1804 the state passed the Act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery. The mandate required enslaved men born after July 4, 1804, to serve 25 years, and enslaved women, 20 years before manumission. By the start of the Civil War in 1861, records indicate slavery in New Jersey had dwindled, but remained legal. In 1866, the state ratified the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution, making it the last Northern state to end slavery.

Today, historically significant properties like the Howe House bear witness to New Jersey’s past. The nonprofit Friends of Howe House (FHH) are seeking historic landmark status and recently rallied support to purchase the building. “We are forming a steering committee and seeking community input to determine the next steps for Howe House,” says committee member Kimberly Latortue, adding turning it into a house museum is an option. The town “prides itself on being the epitome of diversity,” says Aminah Toler, a Montclair native and founding member of FHH. “We want to ensure that the Howe House remains to tell the story of the African American history that shaped this town and this country.”

IBM and Auschwitz: New Evidence

Edwin Black

Reprinted with permission from https://historynewsnetwork.org/article/1035

Edwin Black is author of IBM and the Holocaust, The Strategic Alliance between Nazi Germany and America’s Most Powerful Corporation (Crown Publishers 2001 and Three Rivers Press 2002). This article is drawn from Mr. Black’s just released and updated German paperback edition. The new edition includes the discovery of hard evidence linking IBM to Auschwitz. The evidence, detailed here, will be appended to his English language editions at the next reprinting in the new future.

The infamous Auschwitz tattoo began as an IBM number. In August 1943, a timber merchant from Bendzin, Poland, arrived at Auschwitz. He was among a group of 400 inmates, mostly Jews. First, a doctor examined him briefly to determine his fitness for work. His physical information was noted on a medical record. Second, his full prisoner registration was completed with all personal details. Third, his name was checked against the indices of the Political Section to see if he would be subjected to special punishment. Finally, he was registered in the Labor Assignment Office and assigned a characteristic five-digit IBM Hollerith number, 44673.

The five-digit Hollerith number was part of a custom punch card system devised by IBM to track prisoners in Nazi concentration camps, including the slave labor at Auschwitz.

The Polish timber merchant’s punch card number would follow him from labor assignment to labor assignment as Hollerith systems tracked him and his availability for work, and reported the data to the central inmate file eventually kept at Department DII. Department DII of the SS Economics Administration in Oranienburg oversaw all camp slave labor assignments, utilizing elaborate IBM systems.

Later in the summer of 1943, the Polish timber merchant’s same five-digit Hollerith number, 44673, was tattooed on his forearm. Eventually, during the summer of 1943, all non-Germans at Auschwitz were similarly tattooed. Tattoos, however, quickly evolved at Auschwitz. Soon, they bore no further relation to Hollerith compatibility for one reason: the Hollerith number was designed to track a working inmate—not a dead one. Once the daily death rate at Auschwitz climbed, Hollerith-based numbering simply became outmoded. Soon, ad hoc numbering systems were inaugurated at Auschwitz. Various number ranges, often with letters attached, were assigned to prisoners in ascending sequence. Dr. Josef Mengele, who performed cruel experiments, tattooed his own distinct number series on “patients.” Tattoo numbering schemes ultimately took on a chaotic incongruity all its own as an internal Auschwitz-specific identification system.

However, Hollerith numbers remained the chief method Berlin employed to centrally identify and track prisoners at Auschwitz. For example, in late 1943, some 6,500 healthy, working Jews were ordered to the gas chamber by the SS. But their murder was delayed for two days as the Political Section meticulously checked each of their numbers against the Section’s own card index. The Section was under orders to temporarily reprieve any Jews with traces of Aryan parentage.

Sigismund Gajda was another Auschwitz inmate processed by the Hollerith system. Born in Kielce, Poland, Gajda was about 40 years of age when on May 18, 1943, he arrived at Auschwitz. A plain paper form, labeled “Personal Inmate Card,” listed all of Gajda’s personal information. He professed Roman Catholicism, had two children, and his work skill was marked”mechanic.” The reverse side of his Personal Inmate Card listed nine previous work assignments. Once Gajda’s card was processed by IBM equipment, a large indicia in typical Nazi Gothic script was rubber-stamped at the bottom: “Hollerith erfasst,” or “Hollerith registered.” Indeed, that designation was stamped in large letters on hundreds of thousands of processed Personal Inmate Cards at camps all across Europe. The Extermination by Labor campaign itself depended upon specially designed IBM systems that matched worker skills and locations with labor needs across Nazi-dominated Europe. Once the prisoner was too exhausted to work, he was murdered by gas or bullet. Exterminated prisoners were coded “six” in the IBM system.

The Polish timber merchant’s Hollerith tattoo, Sigismund Gajda’s inmate form, and the victimization of millions more at Auschwitz live on as dark icons of IBM’s conscious 12-year business alliance with Nazi Germany. IBM’s custom-designed prisoner-tracking Hollerith punch card equipment allowed the Nazis to efficiently manage the hundreds of concentration camps and sub-camps throughout Europe, as well as the millions who passed through them. Auschwitz’ camp code in the IBM tabulation system was 001.8

Nearly every Nazi concentration camp operated a Hollerith Department known as the Hollerith Abteilung. The three-part Hollerith system of paper forms, punch cards and processing machines varied from camp to camp and from year to year, depending upon conditions. In some camps, such as Dachau and Storkow, as many as two dozen IBM sorters, tabulators, and printers were installed. Other facilities operated punchers only and submitted their cards to central locations such as Mauthausen or Berlin. In some camps, such as Stuthoff, the plain paper forms were coded and processed elsewhere. Hollerith activity, whether paper, punching or processing, was frequently—but not always–located within the camp itself, consigned to a special bureau called the Labor Assignment Office, known in German as the Arbeitseinatz. The Arbeitseinsatz issued the all-important life-sustaining daily work assignments, and processed all inmate cards and labor transfer rosters.

IBM did not sell any of its punch card machines to Nazi Germany. The equipment was leased by the month. Each month, often more frequently, authorized repairmen, working directly for or trained by IBM, serviced the machines on-site–whether in the middle of Berlin or at a concentration camp. In addition, all spare parts were supplied by IBM factories located throughout Europe. Of course, the billions of punch cards continually devoured by the machines, available exclusively from IBM, were extra.

IBM’s extensive technological support for Hitler’s conquest of Europe and genocide against the Jews was extensively documented in my book, IBM and the Holocaust, published in February 2001 and updated in a paperback edition. In March of this year, The Village Voice broke exclusive new details of a special IBM wartime subsidiary set up in Poland by IBM’s New York headquarters shortly after Hitler’s 1939 invasion. In 1939, America had not entered the war, and it was still legal to trade with Nazi Germany. IBM’s new Polish subsidiary, Watson Business Machines, helped Germany automate the rape of Poland. The subsidiary was named for its president Thomas J. Watson.

Central to the Nazi effort was a massive 500-man Hollerith Gruppe, installed in a looming brown building at 24 Murnerstrasse in Krakow. The Hollerith Gruppe of the Nazi Statistical Office crunched all the numbers of plunder and genocide that allowed the Nazis to systematically starve the Jews, meter them out of the ghettos and then transport them to either work camps or death camps. The trains running to Auschwitz were tracked by a special guarded IBM customer site facility at 22 Pawia in Krakow. The millions of punch cards the Nazis in Poland required were obtained exclusively from IBM, including one company print shop at 6 Rymarska Street across the street from the Warsaw Ghetto. The entire Polish subsidiary was overseen by an IBM administrative facility at 24 Kreuz in Warsaw.

The exact address and equipment arrays of the key IBM offices and customer sites in Nazi-occupied Poland have been discovered. But no one has ever been able to locate an IBM facility at, or even near, Auschwitz. Until now. Auschwitz chief archivist Piotr Setkiewicz finally pinpointed the first such IBM customer site. The newly unearthed IBM customer site was a huge Hollerith Büro. It was situated in the I.G. Farben factory complex, housed in Barracks 18, next to German Civil Worker Camp 7, about two kilometers from Auschwitz III, also known as Monowitz Concentration Camp. Auschwitz’ Setkiewicz explains, “The Hollerith office at IG Farben in Monowitz used the IBM machines as a system of computerization of civil and slave labor resources. This gave Farben the opportunity to identify people with certain skills, primarily skills needed for the construction of certain buildings in Monowitz.”

By way of background, what most people call “Auschwitz” was actually a sprawling hell comprised of three concentration camps, surrounded by some 40 subcamps, numerous factories and a collection of farms in a surrounding captive commercial zone. The original Auschwitz became known simply as Auschwitz I, and functioned as a diversified camp for transit, labor and detention. Auschwitz II, also called Birkenau, became the infamous extermination center, operating gas chambers and ovens. Nearby Auschwitz III, known as Monowitz, existed primarily as a slave labor camp. Monowitz is where IBM’s bustling customer site functioned.

Many of the long-known paper prisoner forms stamped Hollerith Erfasst, or” registered by Hollerith,” indicated the prisoners were from Auschwitz III, that is, Monowitz. Now Auschwitz archivist Setkiewicz has also discovered about 100 Hollerith machine summary printouts of Monowitz prisoner assignments and details generated by the I.G. Farben customer site. For example, Alexander Kuciel, born August 12, 1889, was in 1944 deployed as a slave carpenter, skill coded 0149, and his Hollerith printout is marked “Sch/P,” the Reich abbreviation for Schutzhäftling/Pole. Schutzhäftling/Pole means “Polish political prisoner.” The giant Farben facilities, also known as “I.G. Werk Auschwitz,” maintained two Hollerith Büro staff contacts, Herr Hirsch and Herr Husch. One key man running the card index systems was Eduard Müller. Müller was a fat, aging, ill-kempt man, with brown hair and brown eyes. Some said, “He stank like a polecat.” A rabid Nazi, Müller took special delight in harming inmates from his all-important position in camp administration.

Comparison of the new printouts to other typical camp cards shows the Monowitz systems were customized for the specific coding Farben needed to process the thousands of slave workers who labored and died there. The machines were probably also used to manage and develop manufacturing processes and ordinary business applications. The machines almost certainly did not maintain extermination totals, which were calculated as “evacuations” by the Hollerith Gruppe in Krakow. At press time, the diverse Farben codes and range of machine uses are still being studied. It is not known how many additional IBM customer sites researchers will discover in the cold ashes of the expansive commercial Auschwitz zone.

A Hollerith Büro, such as the one at Auschwitz III, was larger than a typical mechanized concentration camp Hollerith Department. A Büro was generally comprised of more than a dozen punching machines, a sorter and one tabulator. Leon Krzemieniecki was a compulsory worker who operated a tabulator at the IBM customer site at the Polish railways office in Krakow that kept track of trains going to and from Auschwitz. He recalls, “I know that trains were constantly going from Krakow to Auschwitz–not only passenger trains, but cargo trains as well.” Krzemieniecki, who worked for two years with IBM punchers, card sorters and tabulators, estimates that a punch card operation for so large a manufacturing complex as Farben “would probably require at least two high-speed tabulators, four sorters, and perhaps 20 punchers.” He added, “The whole thing would probably require 30-40 persons, plus their German supervisors.”

The new revelation of IBM technology in the Auschwitz area constitutes the final link in the chain of documentation surrounding Big Blue’s vast enterprise in Nazi-occupied Poland, supervised at first directly from its New York headquarters, and later through its Geneva office. Jewish leaders and human rights activists were again outraged. “This latest disclosure removes any pretext of deniability and completes the puzzle that has been IBM and Auschwitz: New Evidence.

“When put together about IBM in Poland,” declared Malcolm Hoenlein, vice president of the New York-based Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations. “The picture that emerges is most disturbing,” added Hoenlein.” IBM must confront this matter honestly if there is to be any closure.”

Marek Orski, state historian of the museum at Poland’s Stuthoff Concentration Camp, has distinguished himself as that country’s leading expert on the use of IBM technology at Polish concentration camps. “This latest information,” asserts Orski,”proves once more that IBM’s Hollerith machines in occupied Poland were functioning in the area of yet another concentration camp, in this case Auschwitz-Monowitz–something completely unknown until now. It is yet another significant revelation in what has become the undoubted fact of IBM’s involvement in Poland. Now we need to compile more documents identifying the exact activity of this Hollerith Büro in Auschwitz Monowitz.”

Krzemieniecki is convinced obtaining such documents would be difficult. “It would be great to have access to those documents,” he said, “but where are they?” He added, “Please remember, I witnessed in 1944, when the war front came closer to Poland, that all the IBM machines in Krakow were removed. I’m sure the Farben machines were being moved at the same time. Plus, the Germans were busy destroying all the records. Even still,” he continues, “what has been revealed thus far is a great achievement.”

Auschwitz historians were originally convinced that there were no machines at Auschwitz, that all the prisoner documents were processed at a remote location, primarily because they could find no trace of the equipment in the area. They even speculated that the stamped forms from Auschwitz III were actually punched at the massive Hollerith service at Mauthausen concentration camp. Indeed, even the Farben Hollerith documents had been identified some time ago at Auschwitz, but were not understood as IBM printouts. That is, not until the Hollerith Büro itself was discovered. Archivists only found the Büro because it was listed in the I.G. Werk Auschwitz phone book on page 50. The phone extension was 4496.”I was looking for something else,” recalls Auschwitz’ Setkiewicz,”and there it was.” Once the printouts were reexamined in the light of IBM punch card revelations, the connection became clear.

Setkiewicz says, “We still need to find more similar identification cards and printouts, and try to find just how extensive was the usage in the whole I.G. Farben administration and employment of workers. But no one among historians has had success in finding these documents.”

In the current climate of intense public scrutiny of corporate subsidiaries, IBM’s evasive response has aroused a renewed demand for accountability. “In the day of Enron and Tyco,” says Robert Urekew, a University of Louisville professor of business ethics, “we now know these are not impersonal entities. They are directed by people with names and faces.” Prof. Urekew, who has studied IBM’s Hitler-era activities, continued, “The news that IBM machines were at Auschwitz is just the latest smoking gun. For IBM to continue to stonewall and hinder access to its New York archives flies in the face of the focus on accountability in business ethics today. Since the United States was not technically at war with Nazi Germany in 1939, it may have been legal for IBM to do business with the Third Reich and its camps in Poland. But was it moral?”

Even some IBM employees are frustrated by IBM’s silence. Michael Zamczyk, for example, is a long-time IBM employee in San Jose, California, working on business controls. A loyal IBMer, Zamczyk has worked for the company for some 28 years. He is also probably the only IBM employee who survived the Krakow ghetto in 1941 and 1942. Since revelations about IBM’s ties to Hitler exploded into public view in February 2001, Zamczyk has been demanding answers—and an apology–from IBM senior management.

“Originally,” says Zamczyk,”I was just trying to determine if it was IBM equipment that helped select my father to be shipped to Auschwitz, and if the machines were used to schedule the trains to Auschwitz.

Zamczyk started writing letters and emails, but to no avail. He could not get any concrete response about IBM’s activities during the Hitler era.”I contacted senior management, all the way up to the president, trying to get an answer,”states Zamczyk. “Since then, I have read the facts about IBM in Poland, about the railroad department at 22 Pawia Street in Krakow, and I read about the eyewitnesses. Now I feel that IBM owes me, as an IBM employee, an apology. And that is all I am looking for.”

Zamczyk was met by stony silence from IBM executives.” The only response I got,” he relates, “was basically telling me there would be no public or private apology. But I am still waiting for that apology and debating what to do next.”

Repeated attempts to obtain IBM reaction to the newest disclosure were rebuffed by IBM spokesman Carol Makovich. I phoned her more than a dozen times, but she did not respond, or grant me permission to examine Polish, Brazilian and French subsidiary documents at the company’s Somers, New York archives. Nor has the company been forthcoming to numerous Jewish leaders, consumers and members of the media who have demanded answers.

At one point, Makovich quipped to a Reuters correspondent, “We are a technology company, we are not historians.”