Long dead is the historiographical interpretation that the British colonists in North America developed autonomously.  The major works of historians like David Hackett Fischer have demonstrated that the colonists who came from England and later Britain, brought with them distinctly British ideas about the world.[1]  Fischer, in particular, argued convincingly that the cultural practices and identities of whole communities in Britain were transplanted to the New World.  That they developed differently than they otherwise might have in the British Isles once arrived is also indisputable.  Even the Eastern Coast of North America, was at one point, the western frontier of the British Empire, and therefore subject to the conditions of Frederick Jackson Turner’s “Frontier Thesis.”[2]  However, what is no longer much disputed is the fact that the British North American colonies developed and responded to these conditions in British ways.[3] 
            It is within this general framework that major explanations for the origins of the American Founding are developed.  J.G.A. Pocock’s, “Republican Synthesis,” falls into such a category.  Pocock argued and has continued to defend for almost half a century, the idea that a major influence upon the Framers of the Constitution and the Founding generation of Americans was the republican ideology expressed by British writers and thinkers.[4]  Pocock claimed that James Harrington’s Oceana was an important intellectual pathway that took the ideas of Roman Republicanism, and via Machiavelli’s works, translated those ideas into an English context.  Through further translations, like the important works of Trenchard and Gordon’s Cato’s Letters, these ideas were consumed and adapted by the American Framers for their American geopolitical realities.  Bernard Bailyn’s prize-winning research significantly deepened this understanding by evaluating the political literature disseminated by the American colonists.[5]
            However, the republican influence was only one ideological influence on the British colonists.  The ideas of corruption, civic virtue, and republican representation was only one strain of British thought synthesized by Madison and the Framers into the American Constitution.  There was also a significant ideological commitment to individual liberties, and the protection of these liberties within a negative constitutional framework.  It has typically been assumed that these ideas originated with the social contract theory expressed in John Locke’s Treatises on Government.  This assumption ignores the reality of a political group that not only pre-dated Locke, but whose rhetoric was more in line with the liberal tradition expressed in American Framing documents like the Bill of Rights.
            Exactly where the Levellers fit into the historiographical interpretations of the turmoil of the 1640’s has been an open question of scholarship in the last century.  Early interpretations of the 20th century were excited about the discovery of the true genesis of the liberal tradition within Western Civilization.  These interpretations were significantly tempered during the rise of the revisionist historians of the mid-century, almost to the point of relegating them once again to ideological and political obscurity within the narratives of 17th century England.  Emerging research in the last twenty years has resurrected interest in the Levellers and has begun to show that they were an important influence in the development of England’s political identity.  Since it is now commonly accepted that British ideas had a profound influence on the Founders, then the question which has not been asked but begs the asking is:  to what degree did Leveller ideas influence the colonists in British North America?
            Impact can be a problematic concept for the historian to evaluate, particularly since some individuals or groups deliberately or accidentally misunderstood historical arguments made by others.  One way to attempt to answer this question is to evaluate the political literature disseminated by a particular group and to evaluate the semantical strategies employed.  To evaluate the Levellers, the historian is blessed with a plethora of primary source material for this purpose, since the Levellers were prolific writers, and the English political context of the 1640’s allowed for a flood of pamphlets and broadsides.  By evaluating the Leveller lexicon, the historian can then identify critical re-definitions or colloquialisms introduced by the Levellers, and subsequently used by other groups within the wider British world.
            Several incidental research particulars are then available to the historian.  The first is to determine exactly which principles the Levellers were committed to, and how they described those principles.  Additionally, the influence that this lexicon had on British society in general is a fruitful and unexplored vein of historical inquiry.  As just one example, although Trenchard and Gordon were influenced by Harrington’s republican commitments and Machiavelli’s fear of corruption, they frequently used vocabulary which was similar to that of the Levellers.  This could demonstrate direct influence, or that the Levellers had infused their own terminology into all British natural rights discussions through the discourse of the 1640’s.  Either way, when demonstrated, it connotes influence.  Finally, how did Leveller language come to be used in British North America?  These may have been encoded in republican thought like Cato’s Letters, liberal ideology like Locke’s Treatises on Government, or could have been more direct, in documents like Bacon’s Declaration of the People, or the Maryland Toleration Act (1649), which was authored at the height of Leveller influence in England.  It is through the evaluation of the Leveller influence on the natural rights vocabulary of the British world that the answers to these questions will become better understood. 
        The author has conducted numerous research projects related to natural law and the Levellers throughout many of the courses included in the graduate program at Liberty University.  These research topics have ranged from reseach projects on natural law expressed in the English Wars of the Roses to the history of natural law within British political thought from 1600-1800,   The author has also conducted research into the ways in which John Lilburne and the Levellers' ideological commitments to the freedom of religion and natural law was influenced by their Protestant religious ideology.  Even outside of this particular field, the author has explored the implications of natural law in areas such as the Standard Oil antitrust case, and designed an outline for a course on Revolutionary 17th century England.  


[1] Fischer, David H.  Albion’s Seed:  Four British Folkways in America.  Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 1989.

[2] Turner, Frederick J.  “The Significance of the Frontier in American History.”  Speech.  American Historical Society, Chicago:  July 12, 1893.

[3] Another way to conceive of this reality is to imagine a continuum, upon which are all of the potential ways in which a society might evolve, if exposed to different conditions.  The British society in North America, due to a different set of circumstances, developed differently than it might or would have in the Old Country.  Of course, as a historian, one must not be concerned with what might have happened, but rather what did. 

[4] Pocock, J. G. A The Machiavellian Moment.   Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975.

[5] Bailyn, Bernard.  The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution.  Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1967.

     This is the story of one man and his community, and how together they brought an end to the Great Depression much earlier than the rest of the country.  The story draws extensively from speeches by historians memorializing the efforts of the man and his company as well as company records and the words of those who worked for the man and his company.  It also draws on business and national statistics, and principles of macroeconomic theory to set the story within a national context, hopefully to help the reader understand what makes this story truly remarkable.  

     Elliott White Springs took control of the Springs Cotton Mill industry in 1931, at the height (or depth if you prefer) of the Depression.  Cotton mills were closing all over the country, but Springs kept his open, primarily as a service to his community.  He had just inherited control of the company from his father, Leroy Springs, and the situation was bleak.  According to Walter Y. Elisha, Springs “fought off creditors, the New Deal, union organizers and imports” while he “modernized the plants. . .[which] ran through the depression even when the warehouses were bulging with unsold goods.”[i]  Springs stockpiled his goods “everwhere he could stick a piece of cloth” just to keep the mill opened.[ii]  One unnamed employee gave Springs credit for running the mills “to give us three days a week.  So we could live.”[iii] 

     In many ways, Springs was simply continuing the legacy of his grandfather, Samuel White, who had founded the cotton mill in the wake of Reconstruction and the need among community members for employment.[iv]  The business that Springs inherited was not well-positioned to weather the Great Depression.  Springs’ father, Leroy Springs, had badly damaged the confidence of New York bankers by telling them that his son had no idea about the operation of the mills, and also buried the corporation in debt.[v]  Many of the company holdings were also insolvent, in most cases in bankruptcy themselves, making it difficult for the company to raise the capital needed to remain open.[vi]  The plants themselves had outdated equipment, and the business had been coasting on the general growth commonly referred to as "The Roaring 20's."  Therefore, the Springs Cotton Mill company fit the typical narrative of an early Depression-Era business:  It was a high risk creditor unable to obtain financing because it wasn’t safe enough of an investment, and its holdings were not liquid enough to be called upon in order to make up any short-falls.  It was precisely this kind of debt that the banks could no longer afford to hold in the growing economic crisis of the early 1930’s.[vii]  One of Springs' ownly saving graces was his ownership of the Bank of Lancaster, which provided all of the funding for his actions; and this was certainly key in allowing Springs to succeed where many others could not.[viii]

     Springs showed a tremendous ingenuity in keeping his cotton mills operating; all of which were in bad need of modernization.  For those who were committed to keeping their plants opened as Springs was, the Depression was something of an opportunity in disguise.  Springs purchased wholesale machinery, much of which was somewhat outdated itself, but still represented an upgrade to his own plants’ current inventory, at vastly discounted rates.   A lot of the machinery came from closing or greatly reduced New England plants, responding to national trends which saw textile production shrink by 15% between 1929 and 1933.[ix]  Equipment valued at $4,000 in 1950 was purchased for $30, Springs bought $1,000 looms for $25 each plus freight, and in one case he acquired equipment from a New England mill for free, provided that he was willing to dismantle and remove it from the property so that the original owner could avoid paying taxes on capital.[x]  The end result was that when he finished outfitting his plants with new machinery, he “had one more cotton mill than when he started and more modern equipment everywhere.”  Springs dedication to his mill workers (and therefore to the mills that employed them) was uncommon, and his mechanical intellect matched his dedication.  Springs had a loom machine moved to the basement of his home and tinkered incessantly with it until he could completely disassemble and reassemble the whole apparatus.[xi] 

     In part, Springs undoubtedly succeeded where others failed due to his non-compliance with federal regulations and union actions, both of which greatly curtailed the ability of his competitors to remain in business.  After initial cooperation with federal regulation expressed in the Textile Codes of 1933, Springs quickly reversed course in 1934 and refused to report his production figures to the Textile Code Institute.[xii]  In one particularly humorous and rambling inventory request response, Springs reported that he had taken over accounting because his bookkeeper had suffered a nervous breakdown, but sadly was not up to the task himself.[xiii]  Springs dissembling response blamed his difficulties in accounting based on the fact that he had some frames in railway cars, some in temporary storage, and a few that he believed had “floated down the river from Mount Holly in the flood of 1916.”[xiv]  Springs partially hid the fact that he was expanding operations at a time when New Deal policy, in general, favored large decreases in production in order to limit supply and bolster prices.  However, Springs' letter written to President Roosevelt reveals that to him, the New Deal meant something very different than it came to mean in the sphere of public policy.  Springs was proud to report wage increases for every employee (except himself, who didn't draw a salary until 1937), the ending of child labor practices, and an equal opportunity to work that did not exclude those “who have bad eyes, stiff fingers, or rheumatic joints.”[xv]  However, Springs initiated these actions voluntarily, and seems to have conceived of the New Deal as representing a call to action by those citizens in a position to aid their communities, not as a sweeping government regulation initiative. 

     Springs also fought unionization at his plants, but not without the full support of his employees.  In part, Springs was aided by the simple fact that he was independently wealthy, and so in one regard his employees needed the plants to remain open much more than he did.  However, Springs’ actions don’t fit with a man who didn’t need the plants to remain opened.  Moving a loom to his basement, updating rather than scrapping the plants, and often being seen in his plants during the 3rd shift, usually on the floors rather than in his office,[xvi] demonstrated a personal concern that was reciprocated by the employees.  An elderly woman, who had previously worked in the mill and needed her job back as the Depression threatened her livelihood, was given a job by Springs despite the hiring manager’s repeated denials of having work for her.[xvii]  According to employee legend, the woman entreated Springs personally for the job one day in the street, which Springs responded to by instructing her to meet him at the mill gate the next morning.  That morning, Springs had the desk chair removed from the manager’s office, brought to the floor, and instructed the women that her new job (complete with wages) was to sit in it until work was found for her.[xviii]  True or embellished, these were the kinds of legends which could only be generated from genuine affection.  In a very limited and somewhat anecdotal fashion, it is stories like these that represent the real people behind Fishback’s assertion that private employment had a much higher influence in raising the standard of living among workers during the Depression than New Deal policies.[xix]

     Unionization in the 1930’s was a hotly contested issue, and not always voluntary, as the Springs Cotton Mills clearly demonstrate.  There was a serious belief held by union officials that every business within a sector must be unionized, whether they wanted to or not.  Union agitators often came with guns and threats of violence.  According to one employee’s recollection, Springs vowed to allow his workers to make the choice themselves, but pledged to, “move his bed into the office and stand siege with them,” should his workers want to resist unionization.[xx]  In his tying of his own person well-being to that of his broader community, Springs inspired his workers to have more faith more in their boss, than in collective action against him, and as a result of the joint commitments of Springs and his employees, the Springs Cotton Mill Company never unionized.

     Despite the Great Depression, The Springs Cotton Mills property value grew every year from 1933 to 1940, and the total amount paid in wages and salary also tripled in the same timeframe.[xxi]  The company’s net sales only posted one year of decline, understandably in 1938 when the national economy shrunk a second time.  Of course, in many ways, the Springs Cotton Mills were uniquely positioned to immediately benefit from the initiation of World War II, although somewhat accidentally.  Springs had stockpiled large amounts of textiles in order to keep his plants opened and prevent him from needing to cut production, and therefore employment.  These textiles became immediately liquid as demand for cloth soared for wholesale production of military uniforms during WWII.  This was however, an incidental boon to the Springs Company, not the explanation for its survival.[xxii] 

     The history of the Springs Cotton Mill Company during the Great Depression runs counter to most traditional explanations for the end of the Depression.  The sales and business figures for the Springs Cotton Mills demonstrated that the company was growing long before World War II production began.  Additionally, the New Deal policies enacted during the period were certainly not helpful, and probably adversarial to the company.  However, its degree of non-compliance (which was the highest among all South Carolina Cottom Mills) with those policies certainly gave Springs Cotton Mill Company an advantage, so it could be argued that the benefit to the company was in gaining a competitive edge against others who were conforming to government regulation.  Therefore, at least on a case-by-case basis, it cannot be argued that New Deal policies were beneficial to the cotton mill industry.  Whether or not they rescued the industry as a whole cannot be ascertained based on the story of one company.
​
     So then, it can be said that in this one case, in one community in South Carolina, the Springs Cotton Mill Companies, which had not yet been consolidated by Elliott at the time, were certainly a microcosm of the causes of the Depression.  Shrinking availability of credit, bankruptcy of related investments, complacent business practices which took for granted the boons of the “Roaring 20’s” and collapsing demand almost ruined the company.   Its escape from the Depression, however, defies explanation along the lines of normal macroeconomical theory.  Rather is the personal success story of Elliott White Springs, and the thousands of employees who worked with and fought for the man who owned their company. 


[i] Elisha, Walter Y.  “Standing on the Shoulders of Visionaries:  The Story of Springs Industries, Inc.”   Speech.  1993 South Carolina Meeting, The Newcomen Society of the United States, Rock Hill, SC.  April 22, 1993.  17.

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] Ibid.

[iv] Ibid, 13-14. 

[v] Pettus, Louise.  “Elliott White Springs:  Master of Mills and Many Other Things,” in The Legacy:  Three Men and What They Built, Speech.  University of South Caroliniana Society, Columbia, SC.  May 22, 1987.  25.

[vi] Pettus, Louise.  The Springs Story:  Our First 100 Years, Springs Industries, Inc:  Fort Mill, South Carolina, 1987.  89.

[vii] Ben Bernanke argued that greatly tightening lending practices was a large contributor to the radical collapse of the entire business sector.  Loans were still available, but only given to those who were considered “safe.”  This explains why interest rates declined but were not received with a corresponding increase in business activity, as is normally the case when interest rates decrease.  In this case, Elliott White Springs, whose business acumen had been called into question by his father, and who had a reputation as an author, war hero, and playboy millionaire, but not as a businessman, faced a serious crisis for the continuance of his business which needed increased inflows of capital for modernization, but was considered far too high of a risk to actually secure loans from the New York firms. 
Bernanke, Ben S. "Nonmonetary Effects of the Financial Crisis in the Propagation of the Great Depression." The American Economic Review 73, no. 3 (1983): 257-76.

[viii] Pettus, The Legacy, 26.

[ix] “Indexes of Manufacturing Production, by Industry Group:  1889 to 1954,” in Bicentennial Edition:  Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970, United States Department of Commerce,  668.

[x] Pettus, The Springs Story, 95.

[xi] Ibid, 27. 

[xii] Ibid, 27-28.

[xiii] Ibid, 101.

[xiv] Ibid.

[xv] Springs, Elliott.  “Letter to Franklin D. Roosevelt, July 28, 1933” in The Springs Story, 97. 

[xvi] Pettus, The Legacy, 26.

[xvii] Ibid, 27.

[xviii] Ibid.

[xix] Fishback, Price.  “The Newest on the New Deal.”  Essays in Economic & Business History, Vol. 36, 2008.  5

[xx] Pettus, The Legacy, 29.

[xxi] “Springs Growth,” in Our 75 Anniversary:  The Story of the Springs Cotton Mills 1888-1963, Springs Industries, Inc:  Fort Mill, South Carolina, 1963.  n.p.

[xxii]   This point is, in many ways commiserate with Christina Romer’s assertion that gold influxes from Europe in the lead up to WWII led to economic conditions that benefitted American business.  It was therefore in this case, not the mobilization of the American industrial sector for wartime production that rescued America from the Depression, as is the typical historical narrative, but rather other factors related to the War that influenced the economy.  The Springs Cotton Mill Company did not need to sell its stockpiled items in order to escape the Depression, but it was a definite beneficiary of increased demand for its products. 
 
Romer, Christina D. "What Ended the Great Depression?" The Journal of Economic History 52, no. 4 (1992): 757-84.
 

             Charles A. Conant had a very important role in America’s transition to a global, imperial power.  Notable libertarian writer, economist, and historian Murray Rothbard details the various actions that Conant took to enthusiastically facilitate the expansion of the United States into the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and other territories over which the US gained influence in the wake of the Spanish-American War.  Perhaps the most damning indictment of Conant was not his failure, but rather his great degree of success in bringing these regions of the world under American control. 
 
Calls for Imperialism

            Conant believed that the urge for economic imperialism was irresistible, drawing clear connections between Rome, the British Empire, and contemporary America, which he believed was “about to enter the path” of these prior empires.[i]  Further, according to Conant, the imperialistic tendency which he observed in America was clearly and firmly rooted in race theory, and his belief that the American civilization was more developed, and that this gave a moral superiority to their domination of lesser races.[ii]  According to Conant, economic domination as a place to sell excess goods was nothing less than necessary for the continuation of the prosperity of the American (and other similarly developed Western) nation(s).
            We are closely acquainted with the image of Cecil Rhodes triumphantly straddling the continent of Africa, holding a telegraph wire and asserting his domination over the continent.  Westerners have, fortunately, come to be very critical of this act of domination, under which rested strong racial supremacy theories that convinced Rhodes that “[the British] are the finest race in the world and that the more of the world we inhabit the better it is for the human race.”[iii]  In essence, the world should be grateful and, in fact desperate, to be subjugated by the British, because subjugation brought “the most despicable specimens of human beings. . . under Anglo-Saxon influence.”[iv]   Furthermore, Rhodes justified conquest in economic terms, pointing to “the extra employment a new country added to our dominions gives.”[v]  In schools, histories, and various other remembrances of our shared past, Rhodes receives few positive mentions, and is known to many as an unapologetic apostle of Western Expansion.
            According to Conant, the essential problem was that Westerners saved too much money.[vi]  If nobody saved anything, there wouldn’t be a problem, because this would allow the economy to continue developing, but every dime saved, according to Conant, led to an unconsumed product, which led to lower demand and inefficiencies.  Rather than changing consumer or spending habits in America, Conant reasoned it would be much easier to force other nations to purchase American-made products.
 
Centralization of the American State

            Rothbard noted that “Conant was bold enough to derive important domestic conclusions from his enthusiasm for imperialism.”[vii]  Conant was willing to sacrifice principle as well as the well-being of those in other parts of the world for the continued growth of the American economy.  He fully recognized that his principles were at odds with the Founding principles of self-rule and limited government, but Conant believed that that pragmatic American economic interests should supersede ideological commitments.[viii] 
            To this end, Conant wrote a brief biography of Alexander Hamilton, the Founder whose own views tended to assist Conant the most in his attempts to justify expansion both domestically and abroad.  Conant saw Hamilton’s enduring contribution to the United States primarily in terms of his advocacy for a strong federal government:  “It is certain that the conditions of the time presented a rare opportunity for such a man as Hamilton, and that without some directing and organizing genius like his, the consolidation of the Union must have been delayed. . .”[ix]  Throughout the book, Conant repeatedly credits Hamilton with the strength of the federal government and plainly believes that Hamilton, more than any other Founder, helped to shape the eventual government of his own contemporary days. 
            Hamilton was a natural fit for Conant’s own domestic arguments, but also fit nicely into his imperialist framework.  According to Conant, Hamilton “was among the first to maintain that the United States should have complete control of the valley of the Mississippi” and “the admirers of Hamilton credit him with a still wider vision of the future power of the United States, which was eventually to bear fruit in the Monroe doctrine.”[x]  Conant, guilty of a great deal of anachronism, connected Hamilton not only to the Monroe Doctrine of the early 1800’s, but also to American Imperialism in general by linking the statements of “Secretary Olney in 1895, that ‘to-day the United States is practically sovereign on this continent, and its fiat is law upon the subjects to which it confines its interposition.’” with Hamilton’s own words “in ‘The Federalist,’ before the adoption of the Constitution, that "our situation invites and our situation prompts us to aim at an ascendant in American affairs.’”[xi]  According to Conant, Hamilton would have approved.
 
Monetary Imperialism

            Hamilton’s advocacy for federal currency created another natural fit for Conant, who sought to expand the influence of the US Dollar abroad.  The Philippines had a stable currency based on Mexican silver dollars which the Spanish had unsuccessfully attempted to discourage for decades.[xii]  The difficulty in converting silver to American currency, then based on Conant’s preferred gold, led to “many complaints. . .against what [American officers and civilians] considered excessive rates [of exchange] charged by the banks.”[xiii]  Conant’s monetary policies, however, were more subtle than his generalized views on Imperialism.
            Throughout his essay, The Currency of the Philippine Islands, Conant seems to advocate for a monetary policy which was acceptable both to the United States and the Philippino people without particular bias to one or the other.  He candidly admits that having all nations in the world on one metal standard would be the best-case scenario for the Western nations, but stops well short of actually advocating that this should be forced upon the Philippines or any other American territorial holding.[xiv]
            However, according to Rothbard, this was just a “cunning plan” to “replace the full-bodied Mexican silver coin” with “an American silver coin tied to gold at a debased value.”[xv]  According to Rothbard, it would essentially net U.S. banks large reserves which they could then use to issue paper currency, and serve as the standard for the way of “exploiting and controlling Third-World economies based on silver.”[xvi]  In essence, Conant had discovered a way to place poorer nations on a gold standard that clearly benefited nations already on a gold standard while appearing to do nothing of the sort.  Ultimately, the new US currency, the “conant” was the new currency in the Philippines, having been successful by “force, luck, and trickery.”[xvii]

Lessons from American Imperialism
 
Conant’s monetary plan, then, was a subtly disguised accomplice to his broader and more naked ambition for the expansion of the US Federal Government, domestically and abroad.  His schemes took nothing into account but the betterment of the specific big-business interests within America, to the detriment of many other interests.  Studying the actions and philosophy of Conant is a stark reminder of what happens when a man’s only principle is pragmatism.  Conant argued persuasively and effectively for Imperialistic policies, fully cognizant that his plans flaunted the principles upon which America had been founded.  It is unfair to blame this fully on Conant, he was just a product of the more generalized thinking of the Progressive Era.  There were Charles A. Conants in education, finance, politics, the military, and every sector of public life; men (and women) for whom pragmatism was the chief ideal. 
In fact, I argue that in this respect, the Progressive Era has never ended.  Ideals and principles are in short supply in modern American civil discourse; they are tiresome obstacles that prevent high-minded obstructionists from being willing to cooperate with Progressive politicians (of both parties) to “get things done.”  The ideas advanced by Conant and other Progressives succeeded in leading to American political domination of the world for a time, but the true legacy of their Era has been the almost complete conquest of the American Public Spirit, and the ideals of the Founders for many of whom principle was more important than pragmatism.


[i] Conant, Charles A. "The Economic Basis of "Imperialism"." The North American Review 167, no. 502 (1898): 326

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] Rhodes, Cecil.  “Confession of Faith.”  1877.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Ibid.

[vi] Conant, “The Economic Basis of Imperialism”,” 330.

[vii] Rothbard, Murray.  “The Origins of the Federal Reserve.”  The Quarterly Journal of Austrian Economics, 2, no. 3 (1999): 21

[viii] Rothbard, 21.

[ix] Conant, Charles A.  Alexander Hamilton.  Ebook:  Project Gutenberg.  New York:  Houghton, Mifflin, and Company, 1901. 

[x] Ibid.

[xi] Ibid.

[xii] Conant, Charles A. "The Currency of the Philippine Islands." The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science20 (1902): 44-45.

[xiii] Ibid, 45.

[xiv] Ibid, 531-32.

[xv] Rothbard, 27.

[xvi] Rothbard, 28.

[xvii] Rothbard, 29.

         To make certain claims about the labor experiences of women as a demographic subset in America obscures certain realities about regional differences that led to different experiences of women in different parts of the country at the same time.  Although this blog focuses just on women, it should be stated as obvious that the same is true for other demographic subsets such as race, and therefore any attempt by any historian or economist to explain the experiences of these groups of Americans without accounting for regional differences as well confront the possibility of a misapplication of their data.

            According to the Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970, the number of Americans employed in non-farming occupations increased by about 50% during the first decade of the 1900’s.[i]  During the same time period, the number of farm workers in America increased by only 2%, meaning that almost all of the employment growth experienced at the turn of the century was from industrial, not agricultural jobs.[ii]  This blog post will specifically look at the demographics of two different states, South Carolina and Connecticut, in order to illustrate the significant differences in the participation rate of women within these regional economies.

      The increase of jobs in South Carolina at the turn of the century was about 30%, and the increase in Connecticut at the same time was similar.[iii] and the respective size of each state’s working population was roughly similar numerically as well.[iv]  Based on these simple metrics, it can therefore be concluded that the growth of South Carolina and Connecticut were rough approximations of one another and therefore these particular variables can be considered similar.  As measured simply by the number of persons engaged in the economic activities of the state, the growth between 1900 and 1910 within South Carolina and Connecticut were also roughly the same.  In fact, each state was chosen as a representative of two distinct regions, but they were specifically chosen in this comparative analysis because of how similar they were in the total number of people employed and the changes evidently experienced in both economies over that time period.

            What is interesting about these statistics is that they are not as similar as the overall numbers suggest.  In Connecticut, the number of employed men outnumbered women 3:1, whereas in South Carolina it was much closer to 2:1.[v]  Even more interesting, was the increase in female participation in the labor force during this decade.  There was almost a 50% increase in female employment in South Carolina during the decade, while male employment was closer to a 15% increase.[vi]  Even more interesting however, is that when evaluated based on sex rather than in aggregate, one finds again that in Connecticut, the female and male labor forces expanded at the same rates as in South Carolina.[vii]  When evaluated on a national scale, one finds that the growth in female and male employment in both states was roughly in line with the national averages at the time.[viii]   This proves that there was nothing different in how each economy was changing during that time period, but there was a significant regional economic difference that led to a much higher rate of participation among South Carolinian women.

            It might be assumed that this was due to the traditional assumptions about the agrarian nature of the South Carolinian economy; perhaps women worked more in South Carolina in agricultural activities?  This hypothesis is rendered unlikely given the fact that the total acreage utilized for farmland in South Carolina decreased from 1900 to 1910 by about 2%.[ix]  If agrarian activity was the reason for the difference, one would expect to see small reductions in the female workforce, not the massive increases that were realized relative to men during the same time period.  The Connecticut reduction in overall farm acreage also decreased by close to the same proportion.[x]  Therefore, the discrepancy in employment of women between the two states had more to do with the type of non-agricultural employment that was available in the two states.  Furthermore, since both states seem to have developed in generally the same way during the first decade of the 20th century, it can be further concluded that the main discrepancy in female participation in workforce pre-dated the turn of the century. 
​
      62.2% of all employees who held manufacturing jobs in South Carolina worked in a Cotton Mill, or in the manufacture of cotton-related products.[xi]  This is such a large proportion of the economy that if the demographics of this one industry did not mirror the overall demographics of the state, it would dramatically change them from the national averages.  It can therefore be assumed that the proportion of men and women working in the cotton industry was a fair approximation of the state average (or perhaps even slightly more than average), and therefore it can be further concluded that women constituted a significant portion of the labor force within the cotton industry in general, and this explained their greater employment rate within the SC economy.  The production of cotton goods within the Connecticut economy constituted a mere 6.8% of the total economic production, whereas metallurgical outputs (Brass, foundry, and machine-shop products), the two largest sectors of the Connecticut economy, accounted for almost 26%.[xii] 

      It can therefore be surmised that at least one large factor in the differences between the South Carolina and Connecticut economies that led to much greater female participation in South Carolina was the type of manufacturing opportunities that were available to the general workforce.  It makes sense that women would be more likely to be employed in the textile manufacturing industries as opposed to machine and metallurgical industries. 

       Of course, this brief review of these census records does not rule out that there were other factors that may have contributed to the higher rate of female participation in South Carolina.  There may have been other economic factors (i.e. the need for a dual-income family to meet general requirements for a standard of living) that led to higher female participation in the workforce.  Nor does this evaluation prove causation; it is also possible that female willingness to work was the driving force on the supply side of the labor curve that led to the development of the cotton industry in South Carolina.  This seems counterintuitive given geographical considerations, but it remains possible without deeper analysis. 

      Notwithstanding the potential shortcomings of this brief economic survey, it can be concluded that the rate at which women participated in the workforce relative to men was significantly different in Connecticut and South Carolina, and that it was strongly linked to the type of industrial production in both regions.   Potentially even more interesting is the traditional assumption that female participation in the workforce is a strong indicator of the overall condition of women's rights and  more equitable social conditions.  For this to be true, one would be forced to admit that South Carolinian society was far more progressive than Connecticut at the turn of the 20th century.  Since this argument is likely to be refuted by a host of other data, one must admit that while female employment may be connected to gender equality in the 21st century, it is definitely anachronistic to make the same argument about early 20th century America.


[i] US Census, Labor Force, Series D 1-10.  Labor Force and its Components:  1900 to 1947.  Department of Commerce and Labor, 1975.  126.

[ii] Ibid.

[iii]Ibid.  Series D 26-28.  Gainful Workers, by Sex, by State:  1870 to 1950.  129-130.

[iv]Ibid.  

[v] Ibid.

[vi] Ibid.

[vii] Ibid.

[viii] Ibid.  Series D 75-84.  Gainful Workers, by Age, Sex, and Farm-Nonfarm Occupations 1820:1930.  134.

[ix] Supplement for South Carolina of the 1910 US Census, Department of Commerce and Labor, 1910.  608.

[x] Supplement for Connecticut of the 1910 US Census, Department of Commerce and Labor, 1910.  605.

[xi] South Carolina 1910 Census, 686.

[xii] Connecticut 1910 Census, 623.

We spend a large portion of our time focusing on major battlefields and large museums that offer the spectacular history that we remember from our school-aged history classes.  I remember visiting Gettysburg battlefield as a high school freshman, (as was typical for most students in Pennsylvania) and looking at the fields and monuments had been erected.  Thanks to Ronald Maxwell’s documentary, Gettysburg, I could literally picture the battle which had taken place on the field, and there felt the surreal experience that I will simply call hearing the whispers of history.  I was able to feel a connection to the shared past of our country, and in on that day, history became present to me, if only softly.

But history is all around us, and we need do is learn about it, and go to one of hundreds of historic sites are in our immediate vicinity in order to experience the same.  One such place is a little-referenced site in Bedford County which is connected to Thomas Jefferson known as “Poplar Forest.”  Poplar Forest was originally the property of Francis Callaway, who simply called it “the forests.”[i]  Callaway’s son was a famous colonel who fought in the French and Indian War and the American War for Independence.[ii]  He successfully defended a fort in Boonsboro, Kentucky during the War for Independence against the Indian chief Blackfish and 11 Frenchmen (who apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that the French and Indian War was over and France was now an ally of the American colonists).[iii]  At another time, Col. Callaway and Daniel Boone had led two successful parties to recover their daughters from Indian capture, presumably becoming the inspiration for James Cooper’s The Last of the Mohican’s.[iv]  History whispers to remind us that ordinary men become giants, simply by acts of courage.

The Callaway family sold the land to Thomas Jefferson’s father-in-law who, upon his passing, transferred the property to Jefferson’s wife.[v]  The Jefferson’s operated Poplar Forest as a plantation, which was a significant source of income to the family throughout Jefferson’s life.[vi]  During the War for Independence, Jefferson briefly fled to the retreat during 1781, because Monticello was being threatened by the British army.[vii]  I had always known that certain state leaders had needed to evacuate in order to be spared from the British during the War, and most people would easily connect Jefferson’s precious Monticello to certain memories, but if you are like me, then you never gave a second thought to where Jefferson went at that time.  You would if you stopped to learn the history of Poplar Forest.  History whispers to tell us that it surrounds us everywhere, and we don’t have to travel to the most expected places to find it.

​Jefferson spent a significant amount of time at Poplar Forest.  He left Washington in 1806 to oversee the laying of the foundations of the octagonal structure which is still on the property today.[viii]  It is inconceivable to us that a president would leave Washington, DC where he is literally unable to be reached for hours or days in order to oversee something so menial.  Family, and family affairs were equally important as public obligations, and in fact our Founders knew that it was self-defeating to the purpose of our new republic if we sacrificed family for country.  History whispers to remind us that we’re ignoring something precious in our new age of globalization, technology, gadgets, and distraction.

​Jefferson had the house built to exacting specifications.  Like Monticello, Poplar Forest’s primary architectural feature was a perfectly octagonal main home, although unlike Monticello which featured the octagon only as a central feature, Poplar Forest was originally built as a perfect octagon with no additional geometric shapes added to the structure.[ix]  The house was built to exactingly specific rules, following the classical order for most everything.  Jefferson commissioned a sculptor to do the architectural frieze in the classical style.[x]  Yet Jefferson wished to explore his own personal taste in the space, so he broke classical rules by adding ox skulls to the frieze and sacrificed formality and practicality by having the staircases enter into bedrooms on the upper level.[xi]  History whispers to remind us that sometimes personalization is a worthy investment, even when doing so diminishes the value in the eyes of others.

​Since it was a functioning plantation, Poplar Forest also employed the labor of enslaved people.  Jefferson himself was not a terrible master on the plantation, paying a bonus to enslaved persons for labor he considered to be above the normal expectations and buying eggs from the enslaved women who had raised chickens in their free time.[xii]  He used nicknames when talking to some of his slaves, and sent children to Monticello in order to help them learn trades which might further open opportunities for them in their adult lives.[xiii]  Despite his relative (only in reference to other masters) kindness, the people who worked at Poplar Forest could not gain their own freedom and were buried in unmarked graves that have yet to be discovered.[xiv]  History whispers to remind us of the complexity of our humanity; that we are capable of both simple kindnesses and terrible injustices, often at the same time.

We don’t have to travel to Bedford County (although I think I've talked myself into a trip) in order to hear the whispers of history; they are all around us.  They are in our cemeteries, historical sites, monuments, and perhaps most importantly, in the minds and memories of those around us.  When we enter with quiet hearts and opened minds that are willing to listen, we might be surprised to discover what we hear from the whispers of history.


​[i] Read, Daisy I. New London Today and Yesterday. Lynchburg, VA: Warwick House Publishers, 1950.
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] "Col Richard Callaway." Find A Grave. Accessed October 3, 2019. https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/31768650/richard-callaway.
[iv] Ibid.
[v] "History of Thomas Jefferson's Home at Poplar Forest." Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest. Last modified January 25, 2017. https://www.poplarforest.org/visit/the-retreat/history/.
[vi] Ibid.
[vii] Ibid.
[viii] Ibid.
[ix] "See Thomas Jefferson Architecture Restored at Poplar Forest." Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest. Last modified January 26, 2017. https://www.poplarforest.org/learn/architectural-restoration/architecture-at-poplar-forest/.
[x] Ibid.
[xi] Ibid.
[xii] Ibid.
[xiii] "Thomas Jefferson's Slaves | The People of Poplar Forest." Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest. Last modified January 26, 2017. https://www.poplarforest.org/learn/thomas-jeffersons-life-and-times/the-enslaved-people-of-poplar-forest/.
[xiv] Ibid.

​In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
    That mark our place; and in the sky
    The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
 
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
        In Flanders fields.
 
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
    The torch; be yours to hold it high.
    If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
        In Flanders fields.
 
John McCrae, 1915

As we approach another November 11th, it would serve us well to refocus on the true reason why we honor Veteran’s Day.  On the American calendar, Memorial Day is greatly esteemed, as well it should.  Schools are closed,  We remember the sacrifice of the men and women who have died serving our country, and we should, because that sacrifice is significant.  However, we often miss a day that slips by in November, sometimes not even remembering that it is a holiday until we stare at the empty mailbox trying to remember what it is that we've forgotten. Even when we do remember, we don't often think of the sacrifices still being made by those the day commemorates.  I believe Veteran's Day has just as much significance in its own way.
 
John McCrae’s poem, In Flanders Fields is often quoted at times of remembrance, but so often we miss the sacrifice that is made by those who receive the torch thrown from the failing hands of the poem.[i]  We see the torch throwers, and venerate their memory, but miss those still carrying the torch passed to them decades ago.  We fail to notice the hesitant ones who don’t stand in the church services or community remembrance events (if they even have one anymore) because they unassumingly and quietly continue to carry the torch passed to them so many years ago.  Why does the torch weigh these heroes down, to the point where they feel unworthy of such obviously deserved recognition?
           
My great uncle, Howard Struble, flew fifty missions in a B-17 bomber over Europe in 1944 and 1945.  He was an anomaly.  In 1943, in order to fly fifty missions over Germany, a crewman normally had to literally beat the odds.  Even if a plane had a 5% chance of being shot down (pretty good odds for that year), 20 flights (which normally counted for 40 missions) would mean that one would have to literally be lucky to have not been shot to the ground yet.  Even in 1944 when the percentage of planes shot down was less, there was a better than 50% chance that one would have to experience being shot down at some point.  But what was the experience like for the hands catching the torch?
           
In a diary entry on October 20th, 1944, my uncle wrote about flak so heavy he didn’t “see how we got through it” and the plane having “half a dozen flak holes, all up around the nose.”[ii]  But I don’t think that the desire for self-preservation is the reason why the torch carried by our surviving veterans is so cumbersome.  The clue, I think, lies on an entry from an earlier date. 
 
On September 21st, 1944, my uncle wrote “One plane got hit in the waist, killing both waist gunners. It broke in two when it landed. . .Bombed a marshalling yards [sic.] in Debrerogen Hungary, only 100 miles from Russia the tail gunner was also killed. It turned out to be some of our buddies that were in our barracks at Drew and went thru training with us. It was their 1st mission, the lower ball man got out without a scratch. All the control cables were cut and all that was holding the ship together was about 8 inches at the top and 2 ft. at the bottom. . .”[iii]  The question that haunted “Uncle Bud,” as we called him, was to wonder why he was left alive to bear the torch, when so many equally deserving men no longer had that opportunity. 
 
This theme is transcendent.  When one reads any book that relies heavily on interviews of survivors, the agonizing question “Why me?” practically bleeds through the pages.  It is a powerful theme in all of historian Adam Makos’s books.  In Spearhead, Clarence and the other soldiers in the tank divisions that led the attack into Germany in 1944 and 1945 are tormented by those who are left behind.[iv]  In Devotion, men who fought and survived the Battle of Chosin Reservoir were haunted by those left in the snow-covered mountains of North Korea.[v]  In A Higher Call, Charlie Brown remembers many times when the bunks of fallen airmen would lay empty, only to be silently packed up, and the bunk filled by another boy who may not last past the next raid.[vi] So, like the revolving door of airmen in a B-17 bomber barracks, the list goes on, and on throughout American history.  Okinawa.  Omaha Beach.  Vietnam.  Baghdad.  Kabul. 

“Why me?”
 
McCrea addresses this question at the end of the poem, when he wrote: 

If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

The simple fact is that the torchbearers of our society live every day of their lives with the intimate knowledge of the exact price of our freedom.  They feel the impossible weight of history crying out and demanding that they keep the faith of those who sacrificed their lives.  They see their faces.  They hear the whispered last words over and over in their nightmares.  Some watch the orphaned children of the fallen grow up and feel responsible.  Others hate themselves because they can’t bear to see the orphans.  Most, like Uncle Bud, just bear the torch in silence, hesitantly and awkwardly standing at events, wondering what they did to be worthy of being remembered at all.  But they are worth remembering, because they come home, touch countless other people's lives in beautiful ways, and carry with them the memories of the ransom paid for the precious gift that is our freedom.  
           
Uncle Bud loved dogs and horseshoes.  He’d always ask about my dog when I went to his house.  I'll never forget Sparkle, his border collie that would search the house systematically for any one of the dozens of toys she knew by name.  Well into his 80’s, he’d beat a bunch of twenty-year-olds playing horseshoes, and I'd wonder how he did it.  I have such good memories of Uncle Bud at the Fourth of July picnics that he and his wife held every year.  But at the end of his life, the memories of the ghosts from his diaries came back to haunt him.  The doctors had to use electric shock therapy to try to bolster his failing mind, which was literally collapsing under the weight of a torch he had carried for over half a century. 
 
Uncle Bud was a hero not because he had the courage to die for his country, but because he had the courage to live after serving.  He faithfully carried the torch passed to him.  The torches may have a fire that burns those who carry them, but they also give light.  Uncle Bud lived a good life, full of horseshoes, dogs, and annual Fourth of July picnics with family.  He loved and was loved by dozens of family members around him.  There are so many veterans carrying so many torches.  This, and every Veteran’s Day, let’s take the time to remember, thank, and support the thousands of combat veterans who live every day courageously; faithfully carrying the torch passed to them.  And perhaps, as we honor them and remember with them and celebrate their lives, we will help our heroes to embrace the answer to the question "Why me?"

 


[i] Mccrae, John, In Flanders Fields, December 8, 1915.

[ii] Struble, Howard.  “Excerpts of journal entries.”  Personal journal of Howard Struble, Unpublished, 1944, pp. Oct. 20th.

[iii] Struble, Howard.  “Excerpts of journal entries.”  Personal journal of Howard Struble, Unpublished, 1944, pp. Sept. 21st.

[iv] Makos, Adam. Spearhead: An American Tank Gunner, His Enemy, and a Collision of Lives in World War II. New York: Ballantine Books, 2019.

[v] Makos, Adam. Devotion: An Epic Story of Heroism, Friendship, and Sacrifice. New York: Ballantine Books, 2015.

[vi] Makos, Adam, and Larry Alexander. A Higher Call: An Incredible True Story of Combat and Chivalry in the War-torn Skies of World War II. London: Penguin, 2013.

       Are we allowed to be either in today's multicultural society?  In his book The Outrageous Idea of Christian Scholarship, George Marsden observes that recent trends in fundamentalist movements have “coopted the use of the word ‘Christian’ as an adjective.”[i]  Marsden is making the point that since the rise of the Religious Right, and the anti-secular movement that has moved throughout evangelical circles since the 1980’s, there has been an increasing movement to label or claim certain aspects of culture and society as being defined by a uniquely “Christian” set of characteristics.  So today, I want to consider the claim that America was founded as a “Christian nation.” 

            As Marsden noted, to label our country as a “Christian nation” is a radically different claim than to argue that it was a nation of Christian people.  Attaching religious attributes to a particular person is completely reasonable, even in our postmodern society.  It may be perceived by many as a demeaning statement, but nobody would argue that a person cannot be or should be legally restricted from being a “Christian man” or “Christian woman.”  In the modern academic and popular debate about the founding principles of our nation, it is necessary to understand that the values and principles of the men that we call “Founders” were not always the same as the collective values encapsulated in the Constitution.  If we are not very careful with how we use the word “Christian” in this debate, we allow a tremendous semantic advantage to those who seemingly claim that Christian values have no place in our pluralistic society.  Let me be clear, we are not a Christian nation, but we are a nation founded by Christians who expected that those who followed them would also be allowed to be, and even protected from government interference of being, Christian men and women.

     Almost to a man, the Founders were Christian men.  Even oft referred to Founders like Thomas Jefferson and George Washington were, at the very least, public Christians who employed Christian activities like prayers, even (and perhaps especially) as public figures employing their Constitutionally protected rights of freedom of speech and religion.  Thomas Paine’s most famous work, Common Sense, incudes an entire section arguing against monarchy based on Biblical texts in Judges and 1 Samuel.[ii]  Even if Paine was an atheist, he employed Biblical arguments to appeal to Christian individuals whom he was attempting to convince of the merits of republican government. 

     What is actually being debated most often is not whether or not America is a Christian nation, but whether or not America is a nation founded by Christians, who being informed by their Christian values, created a pluralistic society that respects everyone’s right to choose their religion.  It is common belief among Christian sects, and even more particularly among evangelicals, that the Christianity is a relationship between God and an individual, and that this relationship is personal, and should not be achieved coercively by another person or group.  In other words, the idea that each person is free to choose their own religious belief is utterly and totally consistent with evangelical Christian values.  This principle is captured beautifully in the first line of the Virginia Statue for Religious Freedom which opens “Whereas Almighty God hath created the mind free. . .”[iii]  It isn’t coincidental that the principle of freedom of religion is derived from an explicitly Christian perspective. 
 
     When Jefferson wrote to the Danbury Baptists[iv] advocating for the “wall of separation of Church and State” he was referring to an established state religion.  This is obvious by his capitalization of both “Church” and “State.”   He argued that the government should in no way force any individual to act in a way that violates their beliefs.  Jefferson, then President of the United States, concluded the letter by “reciprocat[ing] your kind prayers for the protection and blessing of the common father and creator of man. . .”  This is just one of a multitude of examples of the belief that while government should not force an individual to participate in any religious observance or practice (or penalize them for choosing not to), it also cannot prevent a citizen who is a part of that government, even the President himself, from expressing his religious beliefs, even when acting as a representative of said government.   That this example comes at the conclusion of the very letter which is supposed to establish the precedent of public figures not expressing their personal beliefs is the very definition of "irony."  

     Unfortunately, in the popular debate today, it is often argued that since America was never intended to be a Christian nation, it also cannot be a nation for Christians.  It is argued that the wall of separation of Church and State ought to also create a similar wall among the beliefs of those who are both private citizens and public servants.  In other words, the words of the Constitution meant to protect all citizens from government interference of their religious beliefs are instead used to dictate to public servants what role their religious beliefs will play in their lives.  Even more troubling in several recent court cases gaining national attention, this prohibition against allowing individuals to be Christians has extended to all aspects of their public lives, including their businesses.  It has become an establishment of atheism.

     The Constitution was meant to be a-religious, not atheistic.  During the debate about the specific semantics of the 1st Amendment undertaken by the First Federal Congress[v], Peter Silvester (NY) was concerned that it might be construed as a positive mandate to abolish religion altogether.  Benjamin Huntington (CT) echoing Silvester's concerns, feared that the anti-establishment clause would have the effect of giving special status to those who had no religion at all if not worded carefully.  What cannot be found anywhere is the fear that government officials would act in ways consistent with their religious beliefs; it was taken for granted that they would.  To the contrary, the fear on the part of representatives like Silvester and Huntington was the opposite:  somehow an amendment meant to prevent government from interfering in people’s religious beliefs would instead force some form of religion (including possibly atheism) on those who did not want to participate.  What can be easily seen in the transcription of this debate is the painstaking attention to semantics, in order to develop the exact terminology that would prevent establishment of a national religion while simultaneously preventing a misconception that the government is supposed to be set against religion.  The Founders realized the critical difference between having a Christian nation and a nation of Christians.  They explicitly rejected the first notion but took great pains to preserve the second.  Perhaps it is time that we, likewise, insist that the government make “no law respecting the establishment of religion, nor prohibiting the free exercise thereof”; not especially, but definitely including Christianity and atheism. 



[i] Marsden, G. (1998-06-11). The Arguments for Silence. In The Outrageous Idea of Christian Scholarship. : Oxford University Press.

[ii] Paine, Thomas. Common Sense. Philadelphia: W&T Bradford, 1776. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/147/147-h/147-h.htm.
 
[iii] Jefferson, Thomas. Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom. State of Virginia, 1786. https://www.virginiahistory.org/collections-and-resources/virginia-history-explorer/thomas-jefferson.
 
[iv] Jefferson, Thomas. "Letter to the Danbury Baptists." Library of Congress. Last modified January 1, 1802. https://www.loc.gov/loc/lcib/9806/danpre.html.
 
[v] The Congressional Register,  15 August 1789, in CHARLENE BANGS BICKFORD, KENNETH R. BOWLING, and HELEN E. VEIT, eds., Documentary History of the First Federal Congress 1789-1791, Vol. XI, Debates in the House of Representatives--First Session: June - September 1789 (The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), pp. 1260—1282. 

        Today we remember the day that, in the words of president George W. Bush, “freedom was attacked.”  I remember the day like it was yesterday, or at least, that’s how I feel about it.  Yet today, as I consider the day that changed the course of a nation and set us on a path toward two costly wars, I can’t help but wonder how best to remember that tragic day.  Even more importantly, I am haunted by Gandhi’s admonition to “be the change you wish to see in the world,” and what that call means for me personally.

     As I reflect on my initial response to 9/11, I remember a short period of confusion followed by a significantly longer period of anger.  Initially, the attack brought us together as a nation, and brought out our best selves.  We weren’t worried about revenge; we were worried about our neighbor.  We grasped how fleeting freedom truly was and saw that it had enemies in parts of the world that many of us couldn’t even locate on a map.  We were patriots, we were neighbors, we were family.  Oh to just live in that moment!
  
     But complacency and politics very quickly hijacked our altruism, and nationalism quickly swept our nation.  Nationalism swept me away.  After all, my nation was attacked, and we had to respond.  Unfortunately, if history can teach us any lesson in this area, it’s that nationalism gets ugly.  Nationalism doesn’t defend freedom, nationalism steals freedom from everyone, including the very ones who are caught in its thrall.  We lost sight of the reality that we, in the words of Henley’s Invictus,  are the masters of our fate and the captains of our souls only so long as we choose to be.  And like a vast majority of Americans, I allowed something else to chart my course.

    I was excited when we invaded Iraq and Afghanistan.  Finally, we would execute righteous vengeance on those who had perpetrated the invasion of my freedom.  An eye for an eye.  In the process, we would also bring freedom to new parts of the world.  The shock and awe of the glorious and righteous campaign of the American-led military coalition would pale in comparison to the beacon of freedom that we would bring, like Lady Liberty’s torch burning bright to the darkest parts of the world. 

     I should have known better.

     If history teaches us anything, it is that freedom is an idea, not a country.  The mightiest armies in the world have been totally incapable of defeating ideas.  In fact, when mighty militaries attempt to clash with an idea, it is always the army that loses.  The British Empire learned this lesson the hard way in the American War for Independence, when the ideas espoused by the Declaration of Independence defeated the empire upon which the sun did not set.  Almost two centuries later, the American military suffered perhaps an even more humiliating defeat in the jungles of Vietnam, when it attempted to defeat communism.  You simply cannot defeat an idea with a gun.

     But this would surely be different, wouldn’t it?  After all, America was on a righteous mission to eradicate the specter of terrorism from civilized society.  And here is a reality about fighting for freedom:  Freedom can never be bestowed by man; it can only be defended.  In the words of the Declaration, our rights are the gift of the Laws of Nature and Nature’s God.  They are unalienable (or inseparable) from us.  I do not have the authority to give another his or her freedom, because I am not his or her creator.  I can defend my own freedom; it is my birthright.  I can help another in the defense of his or her freedom; it belongs to them.  But I can never give that which was never mine to give. 

     Another lesson of history.  During the Vietnam War, the American military went to support a slightly less tyrannical government in the supposed defense of freedom.  We paid a heavy price in blood and treasure for our arrogance.  And in the end, we didn’t even earn the gratitude of those we were supposedly helping, nor should we have.  We devastated the lives and livelihoods of the South Vietnamese.  We supported a repressive and totally incompetent military dictatorship that was despised by its own people.  Over 58,000 American soldiers never came home at all, and many thousands more came home physically bearing physical and mental scars that meant that their lives would never be the same.  We paid a terrible price in freedom’s name, but on tyranny’s account.

     I can’t help but wonder that we haven’t done the exact same thing in our current war on terrorism, yet another idea that has proven to be bullet-proof.  We’ve lost about 7,000 soldiers in these costly wars, with thousands more injured.  Not only that, but in the time since our involvement in these wars began, the suicide rate among veterans aged 18-34 has almost doubled (US Department of Veteran’s Affairs, 2016 National Suicide Data Report).  ISIS has claimed responsibility for the 6,000 annual suicides per year among US veterans, and one cannot afford to dismiss this claim out of hand.  Even if we only gave them credit for the increase that has transpired, this would make the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars as costly as Vietnam!

    Iraq barely exists as a nation anymore, its existence more or less relegated to old world maps, and the US military (and countless Afghanistan civilians) continues to pay in blood for the support of the Afghan government that, like South Vietnam in the 1960’s and 70’s, doesn’t even vaguely resemble the Western ideal of freedom.  A recent Guardian article warns that if the US were to leave, Afghanistan would descend into civil war.  Sound familiar?

     And now my focus comes back to me, after all, I have to be the change I want to see in the world, right?  How do I fight an idea like terrorism if a gun has proven to be less than worthless?  I would submit that we must fight an idea like terrorism with a better idea, like freedom.  If “darkness cannot drive out darkness. . .[and] hate cannot drive out hate,” and “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” maybe I need to change how I’m fighting the war on terrorism. 

     I believe that the answer to the question lies in the daily ritual that is performed at the site of the Twin Towers in New York City.  Each day, a single rose is lain next to the name of each person whose birthday it would have been that day.  These roses serve as a daily reminder of the lives of those who were taken that day.  Their lives may have been stolen, but not their freedom; at least not automatically.  What gives our lives meaning is the legacies we leave and this is something, like freedom, that can be given, but never truly taken away.  Unlike the empty skyline of Lower Manhattan, the memories of the men and women who died that day continue to soar ever higher in the memories of those who loved them.  It is their memory that we should be fighting to preserve. 

     So the real tragedy of 9/11 is not that our nation was attacked.  The real tragedy is that I allowed my anger in the aftermath of that attack to cause me to forget the men and women whose lives were lost, and the families that would never be the same.  I believed that a nation, rather than a memory, must be defended.  I compounded my own error by sentencing tens of thousands of American families to the same loss.  The wars that I supported have also robbed thousands of Afghani and Iraqi families of the same basic human right.  Freedom was not the victim of terrorist plots, because our freedom was never theirs to control.  Freedom was the casualty of my anger; of the nationalist wolf disguised in my self-righteous patriotism. 
​
     Darkness, revenge, and hatred will never suffice to combat the menace of terrorism, but maybe love will.  And so, to the families of all who lost loved ones in towers, battlefields of the Middle East, devastated towns of Iraq and Afghanistan, and to the silent ghosts that haunted the minds of those who never truly came back from those places, I ask your forgiveness.  And I promise that I will never forget you, and that I will fight to preserve the legacies left by those who are gone from our lives, but never from our hearts.  And I believe that if we do this, we will finally rise again to freedom’s defense, like we did in those days immediately after 9/11, the days when we were free to love.

          George Barnard Shaw once wrote: “If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience!”  And yet, isn’t it ironic that so often, events happen in the collective history of humanity which, in retrospect should have seemed obvious based on the lessons of history.  Even the casual observer of history cannot help but wonder if all of us ought to be likened to a teenager who, in defiance of all precedent and even occasionally common sense, believes that “this time it will be different.”  Why do we continually fail to learn from the experiences of history?
            In 1820, the newly minted United States of America were deeply divided by the issue of slavery.  In particular, the nation’s politicians were bitterly divided on whether Missouri, the newest state to apply to the Union (if such a term could be applied to relationship between the fracturing nation), should allow slavery.  The ensuing Missouri Compromise prompted Thomas Jefferson to write to several of his correspondences that “as it is, we have the wolf by the ear, and we can neither hold him, nor safely let him go. Justice is in one scale, and self-preservation in the other.”  Gone were the days of “Join or Die” pronunciations declaring the shared commitment to freedom from the American Revolution that recognized that the strength of the states was in their collective commitment to one another.  Unlike many people who were undoubtedly taken by surprise by the conflict, Jefferson had always recognized the danger that slavery posed. 
             Jefferson had seen fit to attempt to confront the moral problem of slavery in a free society almost fifty years earlier when he drafted the Declaration of Independence.  Jefferson had seen fit to confront head-on the contradiction between the unalienable rights given by God referenced in the opening lines of the Declaration and the institution of slavery.  In the list of grievances section of the original draft of the Declaration, Jefferson observed that King George was an unjust ruler because “he has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating and carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither.”  Jefferson recognized in 1776 the danger that the institution of slavery posed to the nation.  Yet when the Declaration was adopted, the delegates from several Southern colonies insisted on the removal of the slavery clause.  It was the only major edit made to Jefferson’s draft of this historic document.  Jefferson recognized the moral dilemma caused by this historic inconsistency, and prophetically observed in 1820 that the nation could neither reconcile the institution of slavery with its own values, and yet pragmatically could also not let go of that inconsistency.  Jefferson wasn’t surprised by the struggle; he knew from experience how bitterly divisive of an issue this would be.  Jefferson’s comments in his correspondence even seem to foreshadow the coming civil war. 
            Despite the lessons history has to teach, it is perceived to be less and less relevant by each successive generation.  Hans Hillerbrand compared our societies attitude toward history as being similar to that toward the Gideon Bibles stuffed into hotel room drawers, “revered, yet seldom used.”  Elizabeth Belanger observed that not only do many students struggle with understanding the importance of studying history, but even society places overt priorities on other areas of academics at the elementary and secondary levels.  All one must do is look at the instructional time devoted to Math and Language Arts in the elementary level, or do a fast comparison of the number of History courses as compared with the variety of Science and Technology offerings at a local high school to see that students are not the only ones who seldom use history.
            Yet perhaps, Jefferson’s story has relevance for us today, for although an astute scholar of political philosophy and history, Jefferson himself seems to have lacked the ability to grasp history’s personal call.  Despite his recognition of the logical inconsistency between the natural rights accounted to all men and slavery, Jefferson continued to own slaves for his entire life.  While he could see the necessity of learning from the mistakes of history, he failed to apply it personally.  This is what we must do when we study history.  In methodology, history is the discipline of studying the past, in practicality, history is what we study to make decisions for the future.
            As historians, we must instill in our students a personal relevancy to history.  There is nothing that can be done to change the past, and in that sense nothing inherently practical about knowing about it.  However, in understanding that past, we gain insight into how best to tread into the future.  And not only that, but we do so with a better understanding of ourselves in the process.  Each of us is profoundly influenced by the course of history, which has embedded within us a set of biases, perspectives, and values, many of which we may take for granted.  Therefore, by studying history, we do not merely study those who have gone before us, we study those who are a part of us. 
Lao Tzu, the ancient Taoist philosopher is quoted as having said “knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength, mastering yourself is true power.”  In the more contemporary world, Gandhi exhorted each one to “be the change you want to see in the world.”  If we can effectively make the case to each student that they must know history, both to avoid its mistakes, but also to better understand themselves, history will continue to have a place in our future. 
 
 
Bibliography
 
Belanger, Elizabeth. "How Now? Historical Thinking, Reflective Teaching, and the Next Generation of History Teachers." The Journal of American History 97, no. 4 (2011): 1079-088. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41508917.
 
Hillerbrand, Hans J. "Church History as Vocation and Moral Discipline." Church History 70, no. 1 (2001): 1-18. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3654408.
 
Jefferson, Thomas. The Papers of Thomas Jefferson. Vol. 1, 1760-1776. Ed. Julian P. Boyd. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1950, pp 243-247.
 
Jefferson, Thomas.  Letter to John Holms, April 22, 1820. Ford, Paul Leicester, ed. The Works of Thomas Jefferson, Volume 12. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1905, p. 159.  https://www.monticello.org/site/research-and-collections/famous-jefferson-quotes
 
Shaw, George B. “Appendix 2 to Man and Superman”, Selected Plays with Prefaces, vol. 3, p. 742 (1948).