By Scott Remer
I’ve been thinking a lot the last few months about the concept of tragedy: what it obscures, and what it reveals. The United States and the world have been suffering the natural disaster of Covid-19, but the US is also suffering from the effects of unnatural tragedies, the inevitable results of lethal, racist mechanisms which were designed at the outset of the American experiment.
Three episodes in American history are particularly pertinent for understanding the new movement emerging in the streets and fighting for the freedom of people of color: slavery, the attempted Reconstruction of the rebellious South, including the original Populist movement of the 1880s and 1890s, and the civil rights movement of the 1960s. Since, as William Faulkner once put it, the past isn’t ever dead—it isn’t even past—these chapters of American history deserve another look to see what we can learn about these tempestuous times and what lies ahead.
Origins
The United States was founded on stolen soil, watered with the blood of indigenous people, cultivated with the blood of slaves who were brutally uprooted from their African homelands. Their labors, without remuneration or recognition, literally built the United States. Numerous rapacious Wall Street banks—financial institutions which exist to this day—owned slaves or invested in Southern plantations. Centuries of pain and suffering connect present and past in a chain of exploitation. The work and degradation of people of color were and continue to be the engine that generates wealth in the richest, most powerful country in human history.
Slavery was a barbaric, totalitarian system. Families were ripped apart without an afterthought. Slaveowners brutally repressed the slaves’ African culture. Slaveowners abused slaves without shame or legal repercussions. Slaves couldn’t receive an education or even the most fundamental human rights. Of course, contrary to popular textbooks that distort the historical record and submerge the history of resistance, the slaves weren’t merely victims resigned to their unenviable fate. Resistance against the dictatorship of the slaveowners could always be found: according to some research, over 250 rebellions with more than ten participants took place during the era of slavery, including Nat Turner’s famed rebellion. Despite these valiant efforts, slavery was deeply rooted and persisted for over three centuries from its beginnings in the 16th century until the emancipation of the last slaves on June 19, 1865, nowadays commemorated as Juneteenth.
It’s worth emphasizing the bare facts—it’s easy to avoid confronting the full horror of American history by hiding behind the 150+ years that separate us from slavery. Millions and millions of people were born, lived, and died under a regime that was a hell on earth. This system lasted for longer than the time that distances 2020 from the end of slavery in 1865. The evil that this system fed, created, and unleashed changed America’s character irrevocably. Its consequences ramified and multiplied over time. They corrupt the present and threaten our future. Despite all this, many white people still don’t have courage to face the facts. To understand why, we have to delve into how exactly the Civil War concluded.
The Failed Reconstruction of the South
After four long years of internecine bloodshed, on April 9, 1865, the Civil War ended. Over 1.75 million people had died. Large parts of the South, in particular the farms of Georgia, had been devastated. The main cities of the South were destroyed, reduced to ashes. It was an opportune moment for a complete transformation, one which would have realized the unfulfilled dream of freedom for all, especially in a South that was basically feudal.
At the outset, it looked like the Radical Republicans, encouraged by the Union’s victory, would be willing to do everything necessary to impose a revolution on a defeated yet resistant South. The Radical Republicans wanted to bring the full emancipation of former slaves to completion: they wanted people of color to be able to obtain all their civil rights, including the vote, and they were ready to exterminate Confederate racism and chauvinism as soon as possible. They believed in complete equality between the races.
To achieve this program, the Radical Republicans advocated the empowerment of a comparatively weak, underdeveloped federal government. This position was the perfect antithesis of the Confederate philosophy of “states’ rights.” The Republicans created the Freedmen’s Bureau to provide benefits to emancipated people and help them navigate the new world of the labor market now that slavery had been abolished. Some white allies moved to the South to teach and train freed people of color. Congressional Republicans drafted a civil rights law and expected a simple process of approval.
Unfortunately, things wouldn’t prove quite so easy. Andrew Johnson, Lincoln’s successor, was highly conservative. He opposed land redistribution to people of color and vetoed the initial, moderate civil rights law, saying that he sympathized with African-Americans but couldn’t accept the expansion of federal power that would be necessary to implement the law. He claimed it was unconstitutional. In the South, an enormous wave of resistance arose—the KKK tried to use a campaign of terrorism and violence to maintain the antebellum racial order, and many people of color perished at the hands of unrepetant white supremacists.
In the end, the Republicans forced the ratification of the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Amendments. The Thirteenth Amendment had an enormous, tragic gap—it says “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States”—which nows serves as a legal justification for the system of slavery that exists in prisons and jails. Today, many prisoners are forced to work for less than a dollar per hour. The Republicans also impeached President Johnson. After Johnson’s impeachment, they passed the Acts of Reconstruction, placing the South under military control. 20,000 soldiers were dispatched to the South. The military governors protected the rights of recently freed people—they helped freedpeople exercise their rights by registering Black voters and supervising elections to prevent disenfranchisement. The soldiers also paralyzed the KKK: the military governments prosecuted KKK leaders and frustrated their plots to defend white supremacy. Liberal political coalitions formed in the South, based on the support of the occupying forces, the influx of Northerners who supported racial equality, and the new political role that Black people were playing. Meanwhile, President Grant, a Republican, worked to expand the federal government’s powers to ensure Southern compliance with the law. For a moment, it seemed that this method of securing racial justice might just work.
Sadly, this glimmer of hope didn’t last. With the passage of time, political will in the North diminished; keeping the South under control through military occupation no longer seemed as appealing to many Northern whites. Resistance to Reconstruction wasn’t only a question of Southern opposition: it also stemmed from deep-rooted Northern racism. In the presidential election of 1876, the precarious political coalitions that had kept Reconstruction intact collapsed. The election was very close, and nobody knew who’d truly prevailed. The Democratic Party exploited the opportunity this electoral chaos presented: it agreed to give the presidency to the Republican Party in exchange for the end of Reconstruction and the withdrawal of all federal soldiers from the South.
After federal forces withdrew, Southern whites seized control of state and local governments. In one notable instance in Wilmington, North Carolina in 1898, they staged a coup. Then, exploiting Northern exhaustion and fading interest, they passed discriminatory laws to deprive people of color of their rights. Although Black people enjoyed their legitimate rights for a brief period during Reconstruction, the exercise of those rights was dependent on active protection from the federal government, which had an expiration date. During that short-lived period, people of color were unfortunately unable to take control of the land, tools, and money that they needed to start new lives with true freedom. Because Black people lacked capital and economic power, during the era following Reconstruction, white plantation owners reinstituted a system very similar to slavery. The sharecropping system rivaled slavery in its brutality, and it enjoyed complete legality.
The Original Populist Movement
A new grassroots movement—the Farmers’ Alliance—sprouted up on the Great Plains after the failure of Reconstruction. It represented a revolt against unfettered capitalism and an attempt to rescue American democracy. The farmers suffered from the depredations of the great corporations of the East. They craved an end to monopoly power and Wall Street oligarchy. They developed a clear program with well-defined demands, all based on a major expansion of the regulatory powers of the federal government: land reform, progressive taxation, the nationalization of the banking sector, the nationalization of railways and telecommunications, the establishment of postal banks, and recognition of workers’ right to unionize. To achieve these goals, the Alliance organized demonstrations with bands and parades.
The Alliance’s efforts met with a certain measure of success: at the beginning of 1884, its members numbered 10,000; by 1890, their ranks had blossomed to over a million. The movement began in the Great Plains, but to create a durable coalition in the US, a social movement needs a nationally distributed base of support. Then as now, the American working class and lower classes were multiracial and lived in different parts of the country. To expand their reach, the Alliance had to overcome deep-rooted interethnic and interracial divisions in the South and in the cities of the North. This proved to be particularly problematic, just as difficult as combating corporations’ fierce resistance and smashing corporate control over the political process once and for all.
Take Tom Watson, a leader of the Populist movement in his home state of Georgia, as an example. At first, he ardently defended the civil rights of people of color: he advocated for equality at the ballot box and roundly denounced lynching. But after some electoral defeats in 1896 and a mysterious psychological alteration, Watson reversed course. Around 1900, he began to attack people of color with racist vitriol. Watson’s abrupt shift symbolized the Populists’ predicament. Confronted with irredentist, revanchist politics and a campaign of terror by racist paramilitary groups, the Populist movement hesitated—and that was the definitive end to Reconstruction and the promise of social democracy in the United States at the end of the 19th century.
The 1960s and a Frustrated Mass Movement
Fast forward six decades. The segregation regime in the South had endured, codified in state laws and daily practices. Unionization campaigns in the South in the 1940s and 1950s, including the CIO’s Operation Dixie, had failed, unable to surmount ingrained racism. But finally a well-coordinated movement, with capable leaders; a ready, determined rank and file; and decades of preparation, was on the march.
At first, the civil rights movement encountered resistance in the field of public opinion. In May 1961, 57% of people believed that demonstrations in the South (sit-ins, Freedom Buses, etc.) would harm the cause of desegregation. Even as late as May 1964, after many protests, 74% of people believed that mass demonstrations by people of color would damage racial equality. Only in the end of the 1960s, after five years of marches, and with the specter of violence hanging in the air, did public opinion finally change: in May of 1969, 63% of people believed that nonviolent protests could achieve racial equality.
How this change of heart occurred—and how the civil rights movement evolved during the 1960s—is instructive. Initially, and with good reason, reflecting the most pressing problems, it focused principally on liberal, formal equality: the right to desegregated public facilities, the right to vote without reprisals, the right to attend integrated schools, the right to be protected from labor discrimnation. Public demonstrations unquestionably succeeded, creating the push necessary for the federal government to act: LBJ didn’t have any other option but to take decisive legislative action to make racial equality more than empty words.
But Martin Luther King, Jr., and other leaders of the movement, including the queer democratic socialist Bayard Rustin, recognized that civil rights don’t count for much without complementary economic and social rights. King asked, referring to the sit-ins, “What good is having the right to sit at a lunch counter if you can’t afford to buy a hamburger?” In the years before his assassination, King began to pay attention to the need for sweeping structural changes to the economy. He was assassinated in the midst of a visit to Memphis to support a sanitary workers’ strike.
King was organizing a Poor People’s March in 1968 to win universal economic and human rights. King and other leaders of the movement wanted to unify poor whites, Native Americans, Chicanos, Black people, and other marginalized groups into a powerful coalition capable of transforming the United States into a humane nation, with democratic socialism for all and militarism and imperialism for none. The Black Panthers and other radical Black Power organizations emphasized separatist elements of Black empowerment in some cases, but they always underlined the importance of socialism and anti-imperialism in winning genuine liberty. Radical groups like the Black Panthers also operated social programs in their own communities, offering a grassroots model for social change.
Sadly, the spate of assassinations in the middle and late 1960s of leaders on the Left like MLK, RFK, Malcolm X, and Fred Hampton, coupled with the bloody war in Vietnam, conspired to deflate the movement. Although the Poor People’s March still took place, it didn’t receive the attention it deserved, and the dreams of a more just country and world bled nearly to death, victims of the Cold War and violent reaction spearheaded by Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, and the Republican Party. Instead of resisting this regression, the Democratic Party establishment united with the Republicans during the 1980s and 1990s to pass laws which spawned a grotesque system of mass incarceration and out-of-control policing, hiding behind anti-crime slogans. Meanwhile, the history of imperialism and interventionism that has destroyed the lives of people of color worldwide continued to unfold.
The Present
What lessons do these episodes of American history suggest for us today?
Firstly, the fight for the right to vote—and for the civic equality that it represents—has always been central in the struggle for racial justice: from the beginning, during Reconstruction, the Populist movement, and the civil rights movement. A common thread that connects American history is the elite attempt to limit the electorate—only by doing so can elites maintain their fidelity to the idea of formal democracy. The moment the electorate turns into a threat against racist and capitalist power, elites have always been willing to jettison their ostensible love for democracy, even going so far as to use terrorist violence to repress people of color.
Secondly, and probably more importantly, Reconstruction never attempted to correct economic injustice and the racial power imbalance. Former slaves were converted—against their will—into workers ready to enter the new labor market that the capitalists had instituted in the “reconstructed” South. Ex-slaves won neither reparations nor control over capital and the economic conditions that structured their lives. Congress didn’t pass land reform. The Thirteenth Amendment didn’t even abolish slavery completely. Reconstruction’s failure to change material conditions in the South and elsewhere was its weakest point. One might even say that the Civil War never truly concluded: we never successfully quashed the Confederacy’s racism and feudalism.
Defeated outright on the battlefield, the Confederacy switched tactics, transferring its hatred and opposition towards American state-building and national consolidation to new vessels: reactionary Republicans and Dixiecrats, paramilitary campaigns of racial terrorism, and white supremacist groups like the KKK. The battle between federal power and “states’ rights” has always had racial implications. “States’ rights” acts as a mask, a euphemistic facade, to preserve white supremacy. Where exactly the conflict between the federal government and local legislatures stands is a good indicator of the status of civil rights nationwide at any given moment in American history, with the shameful history of HUD redlining and the Trump administration’s Department of Justice serving as prominent exceptions to this tendency.
The sad collapse of the Populist movement shows us how racism has functioned as a weapon against grassroots movements. Racial tensions are a major obstacle that discourage unity among oppressed groups, even though marginalized groups share many of the same interests. As the author Isabel Wilkerson suggests in an extraordinary article (and in her new book), we should regard the United States’ racial system as a caste system akin to the one in India.
The civil rights movement’s experience shows us that protests can get results. On their own, they can change public opinion—certainly not overnight, but gradually. More importantly, they can force legislative changes. Those changes tend to persuade people more effectively and efficiently than almost anything else. The civil rights movement’s ultimate collapse in the late 1960s and early 1970s was a question of bad luck: the assassinations of MLK, Malcolm X, Robert Kennedy, and Fred Hampton effectively arrested the momentum of the movement’s radical and mainstream wings alike, as did the disaster in Vietnam.
The history of the civil rights and Populist movements also underscores the connection between the struggle for racial equality and the struggle for democratic socialism: a dialectical relationship exists between particular demands and universal demands. For tactical and moral reasons, in a country with a multicultural, multiracial working class, one must construct a coalition that unifies different groups to have the possibility of overthrowing a potent, united corporate elite.
An internationalist analysis is essential: the role that the US has played on the international stage is inseparable from our domestic situation. In other words, America’s racism against its own citizens and its racism against people of color in countries around the world are inextricably linked. Exactly for that reason, before he died, King began to fiercely critique the war in Vietnam, denouncing militarism, materialism, and imperialism as deadly triplets linked with racism, and warning that the United States was risking “spiritual death.” The inevitable consequence of a system that devalues the lives of a large part of its own people is that its disdain for humanity will infect every cell of the body politic, internally and externally.
We’ve seen this truth manifest disturbingly in Portland and other parts of the US, where federal troops have sought to repress protests using violent, illegal tactics. To safeguard white supremacy, Trump and his flunkies have seemed willing to impose all-out authoritarianism on American soil, a marked difference from the history of American imperialism, which ordinarily preserves some degree of separation between conditions in the imperial metropole and conditions in the periphery. If we cross that Rubicon, it won’t be a coincidence that the lurch into outright authoritarianism will have a great deal to do with racism. Nor was it a coincidence that federal troops used the arms and authority that the War on Terrorism, a war which has been a catastrophe for people of color in the global South, has given them.
But there are also some promising signs. The protests we’ve been witnessing have lasted a considerable amount of time, and a broad coalition appears to be forming to support the protesters. Although the vast majority of the protesters’ policy agenda hasn’t been realized yet, popular awareness of the urgent need for racial justice has risen rapidly. The deplorable economic situation in which we find ourselves also offers us an opportunity to mobilize the people to fight for economic justice. Also promising is the energy we felt on the streets this summer. Although it’s tempting to surrender in the face of all the formidable obstacles we face, the protesters appear committed, come what may.
American history is tragic. This chapter isn’t an exception: the extrajudicial execution of George Floyd by the police was particularly horrific. Even so, Floyd’s murder was yet another in an appallingly long list of similar murders. The implication of the term “tragedy” is that we can neither avoid nor change our fate. Fortunately, the protesters have demonstrated, in spite of everything, that they still believe our destiny can be changed.
