In The Sixth Extinction: Journeys Among the Lost and Left Behind, Terry Glavin provides a moving narration of the world we are losing. The book is most statistical in its first few pages, where Glavin lays out how the pace and scope of extinctions we face today is comparable to five historical periods of significant extinction. The book's seven chapters are stories of risk and resilience among (as the subtitles outline): a tiger, a bird, a fish, a lion, a whale, a flower, and a world.
While the highly readable narrative style is commendable on its own, the book also is satisfying for its geographic scope - taking readers to varied cultures and ecosystems - and several strains of analysis woven throughout the text. Glavin borrows an analytical tool from the United Nations Environment Programme, which developed four scenarios of how humans might respond to loss of biodiversity, dubbed the "security first," "markets first," "policy first," and "sustainability first" options. Introducing their basic tenets in the prologue, Glavin further elucidates the scenarios in his chapters by pointing to ways in which the movements he documents might be categorized. Although the set of possible future conditions is virtually infinite and inevitably messier than is suggested by scenario analyses, I find them useful tools for understanding likely consequences of different sets of values. The scenarios Glavin borrows are relevant to responses underway today, and his use of them enriches both the scenarios set forth and his narratives of biodiversity challenges.
The book understands extinctions to be complex phenomena, with a variety of proximate and ultimate causes. Glavin both implicates humans and goes easy on us, identifying human actions as the critical factor in the current wave of extinctions, but noting that it was not our intention and that humans have made many noble efforts to reverse or mitigate this impact. Human actions have lead to extinctions not only by directly killing animals but also by destroying habitat and by introducing exotic species that crowd out natives. Glavin seems to imply that because our destructiveness is a secondary effect of our actions, we are somehow less culpable for their results. In the long span of history, there may be something to this argument, but we now have the ability to anticipate secondary effects and do have responsibility for the foreseeable consequences of our actions. On the other hand, the evidence the book provides that humans do value the natural world is a source of hope that we might in fact take responsibility for and change our actions.
Another recurring theme is Glavin's assertion that humans (and environmentalists in particular) have made false distinctions between humans and nature, civilization and wilderness. Although this is an intriguing and on some level compelling assertion, Glavin does a mediocre job of substantiating it in his writing. His illustration of how societies in different times and places have had various relationships with nature successfully casts doubt on the notion that there is one Right Relationship or that we have found it (although I don't think either of these beliefs are widely held), but does not successfully breakdown distinctions between human society and the natural world. Moreover, the writing style, while enjoyable, tends to re-enforce the us/them dichotomy. In telling the story of endangered species, the style tends to exoticize the animals and conveys an almost voyeuristic sense of watching them in their habitat (almost like a National Geographic special) rather than relating to them in the world we share, as I might expect from someone trying to break down arbitrary distinctions.
The strongest way in which Glavin establishes a unitary sense of nature is by addressing both species loss and the loss of diversity in human cultures as part of the same "dark and gathering sameness." Having the stories of losses of human languages, history, and local knowledge and lore woven with the stories of habitat and species loss adds richness to the storytelling. However, the analysis of the association of these two phenomena is a bit shallow. In the examples provided, their causes and consequences seem a bit distinct (e.g., cultural repression in Soviet Russia led to losses in human culture while fish species fared better in Soviet days). Also, while the text draws on a fairly well established literature regarding the benefits of biodiversity (especially as laid forth by E.O. Wilson), it does not provide comparable references or well formed arguments regarding the benefits of diverse human cultures. Glavin asserts that the human species is more "resilient" for having diverse cultures, in parallel to an example about crops with diverse sub-species being more resilient to diseases. However, the book does not grapple with the fact that cultures are not static artifacts under any conditions (gathering sameness or otherwise) nor compare the benefits of diverse cultures to those of a more homogeneous culture which is also more complex. Perhaps he will explore the connections more fully in another work.
Another area that was not adequately addressed was climate change. Glavin makes mention of climate change a few times in the book, as something that will worsen the current period of extinction. Indeed, other reading I've done (e.g., The Rough Guide to Climate Change: Symptoms, Science, Solutions by Robert Henson (London: Rough Guides, 2008) has pointed to the biodiversity impacts of climate change that we already are experiencing and expect to intensify in the coming decades. While The Sixth Extinction is more historic than predictive and I would not expect Glavin to include a great deal of anticipatory evidence of the impact of climate change, devoting a couple of solid paragraphs would be a worthwhile addition to the book, as considering an expanded set of causes for extinctions has a significant impact on the set of responses we should be preparing.
What most disappointed me about the book is Glavin's rejecting environmentalism and the "language of environmentalism." He defines these terms in fairly broad brush early on, and goes on to repeat his criticism at several points in the book. This troubles me because of the suggestion that the environmental movement is some solid, well defined structure of a white liberal elite walking in lock step and speaking with one voice. It's not. And while I might enjoy watching Carl Pope, Wangari Maathai, and Van Jones duke it out to claim the microphone of Environmentalism, the reality is that these are just a few figures inside a big tent of people that come with diverse values and proposed solutions. They form alliances. They have arguments. The behavior among the various groups and activities that I would include as part of today's environmental movement look an awful lot like the whole rest of the world. Perhaps defining an environmental movement within human society at all is a false distinction on the order of considering nature as "other."
The reason this is more than a minor irritation to me is that it seems a familiar tactic. Writers decry environmentalism in an effort to have their environmental arguments taken seriously by a public they believe are not environmentalists. That the naysayers draw arbitrary distinctions is illustrated, conveniently, by an article that appeared in the New York Review of Books while I was reading The Sixth Extinction. John Terborgh's review of Rewilding the World: Dispatches from the Conservation Revolution by Caroline Fraser (15 July 2010) sets forward a different notion about what humans' relationship with nature is and should be. In the Rewilding analysis, conservation is best achieved when humans are willing to respect a separate space for wildlife, giving up the "romantic" and "fanciful" European/American idea that people and nature can co-exist peaceably (perhaps that we are in fact one...?). This group of romantic westerns sounds an awful lot like Glavin's environmentalists, the ones who draw false distinctions between humans and nature, society and wilderness. Hmmm...
A similar ploy has been used in works like "The Death of Environmentalism" (Shellenberger and Nordhaus, 2004). I've argued against the environmental movement's being viewed as a uniform, cohesive group, but do think there is some valid criticism of the power structure within parts of the movement and manner in which groups have chosen to talk about and address environmental issues. Certainly the movement has as yet been insufficient to the task of changing our course or transforming our ethos. Still, I would call on critics not to wholly dismiss environmentalism but rather to identify allies within the movement and to call on everyone to think deeply about their relationship with the world we live in and how to appropriately act on their own values. Drawing arbitrary lines among people will no more get us to our goal of living in a just, peaceful, and flourishing world than will drawing arbitrary lines between humans and nature.
The Sixth Extinction is an enjoyable and thought provoking read. I hope to find other books that draw on Glavin's style and theme to explore our relationship with and impact on the planet.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
You Are Not a Gadget: a Manifesto / Jaron Lanier -- NY: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010
Jaron Lanier was among a handful of virtual reality pioneers, and so you would think that he would be excited about the prospect that a global network of computers, programs, and computer users might allow us to transcend the limits of our pre-internet understanding of the world through the development of a transcendent silicon-based intelligence, but such is not the case. In You Are Not a Gadget Lanier expresses his discomfort, even horror, at the de-humanizing effects of what he calls "cybernetic totalism," i.e., the "ideology" that intelligence, even consciousness, can be explained through computationalism and that the developing global network of computer connections will eventually evolve into a super-intelligence or conscious being.
Lanier offers little argument against this view, except that it is based on the romantic hopes of cybernetic totalists. In the meantime, the popularity of cybernetic totalism has meant that computer engineers are designing hardware and software that dismisses the contributions of human individuals and "locking in" a computer infrastructure that requires devaluing their contributions. Lanier suggests that the computer industry has and is turning its back on many more creative and valuable lines of development in pursuit of cybernetic totalism.
Early in the book, he criticizes Web 2.0 technologies as doing to people what MIDI did to music, i.e., identifying aspects of music that are useful in defining notes, without succeeding in capturing the whole of musical experience. For Lanier, MIDI has homogenized music, forcing it into the constraints of a computer program. Simialry, Web 2.0 technologies have led us to represent ourselves in pre-packaged ways, chopping up our selves into smaller and smaller encodeable fragments that can be captured in cloud computing for the benefit of the "Lords of the Cloud," or those who can mine the collective data made available on the Web by the "Peasants of the Cloud."
The benefits that might accrue to the Lords of the Cloud depend on the truth of a hypothesis advanced by James Surowiecki in his book The Wisdom of Crowds. (See this blog for a review of The Wisdom of Crowds. Surowiecki claims that very often the aggregated (or averaged) opinions of a large number of lay people will be more accurate than highly educated expert opinion. If this is true, then the Lords of the Cloud can employ "crowd sourcing" to generate a more accurate understanding of the world than was possible prior to the advent of the Web. Lanier's response to this is nuanced. While he recognize that a collective opinion is more valuable in many instances, a small group of people organized around an individual's vision or inspiration often can produce a much superior outcome. Lanier's case is surprisingly strong here.
Lanier's colorful language makes You Are Not a Gadget an entertaining read, but his book is strong on assertions and weak on arguments. In his introduction to the final chapter he tellingly writes, "This is about aesthetics and emotions, not rational argument. All I can do is tell you how it has been true for me, and hope that you might also find it to be true." Unfortunately, much of what he asserts is amenable to rational argumentation. Hopefully, his provocative presentation will prompt others to provide it.
Lanier also skips from subject to subject at astonishing speed. Sometimes the work appears to be more a collection of blog posts than a coherent, extended book-length argument. He appears to have been affected by the very atomization of discourse that he laments. He takes up metaphysics, epistemology, political philosophy, psychology, sociology, language, and music among other topics. Clearly, he recognizes how his work in computer science has important ties to all of these fields, but it is difficult to know how grounded his conclusions are. Certainly his treatment of metaphysics and political philosophy is at best extremely superficial and at worse sophomoric. Nonetheless, he bravely advances views on issues that deserve more serious consideration than they have received.
Lanier offers little argument against this view, except that it is based on the romantic hopes of cybernetic totalists. In the meantime, the popularity of cybernetic totalism has meant that computer engineers are designing hardware and software that dismisses the contributions of human individuals and "locking in" a computer infrastructure that requires devaluing their contributions. Lanier suggests that the computer industry has and is turning its back on many more creative and valuable lines of development in pursuit of cybernetic totalism.
Early in the book, he criticizes Web 2.0 technologies as doing to people what MIDI did to music, i.e., identifying aspects of music that are useful in defining notes, without succeeding in capturing the whole of musical experience. For Lanier, MIDI has homogenized music, forcing it into the constraints of a computer program. Simialry, Web 2.0 technologies have led us to represent ourselves in pre-packaged ways, chopping up our selves into smaller and smaller encodeable fragments that can be captured in cloud computing for the benefit of the "Lords of the Cloud," or those who can mine the collective data made available on the Web by the "Peasants of the Cloud."
The benefits that might accrue to the Lords of the Cloud depend on the truth of a hypothesis advanced by James Surowiecki in his book The Wisdom of Crowds. (See this blog for a review of The Wisdom of Crowds. Surowiecki claims that very often the aggregated (or averaged) opinions of a large number of lay people will be more accurate than highly educated expert opinion. If this is true, then the Lords of the Cloud can employ "crowd sourcing" to generate a more accurate understanding of the world than was possible prior to the advent of the Web. Lanier's response to this is nuanced. While he recognize that a collective opinion is more valuable in many instances, a small group of people organized around an individual's vision or inspiration often can produce a much superior outcome. Lanier's case is surprisingly strong here.
Lanier's colorful language makes You Are Not a Gadget an entertaining read, but his book is strong on assertions and weak on arguments. In his introduction to the final chapter he tellingly writes, "This is about aesthetics and emotions, not rational argument. All I can do is tell you how it has been true for me, and hope that you might also find it to be true." Unfortunately, much of what he asserts is amenable to rational argumentation. Hopefully, his provocative presentation will prompt others to provide it.
Lanier also skips from subject to subject at astonishing speed. Sometimes the work appears to be more a collection of blog posts than a coherent, extended book-length argument. He appears to have been affected by the very atomization of discourse that he laments. He takes up metaphysics, epistemology, political philosophy, psychology, sociology, language, and music among other topics. Clearly, he recognizes how his work in computer science has important ties to all of these fields, but it is difficult to know how grounded his conclusions are. Certainly his treatment of metaphysics and political philosophy is at best extremely superficial and at worse sophomoric. Nonetheless, he bravely advances views on issues that deserve more serious consideration than they have received.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Guide to the Flora of Washington and Vicinity / Lester F. Ward -- Washington DC: GPO, 1881
Flora of Washington is a monograph in the series Bulletin of the United States National Museum, published by the Department of Interior under the direction of the Smithsonian Institute. It is the first "scientific" attempt to catalog the flora of Washington and the surrounding region since the 1830 catalog entitled Florae Columbianae Prodromus, and it contains lists of plants found by several botanists (mostly Ward) over the years 1878-1880.
The volume begins with 59 pages describing the range and localities where plants were collected with various information about the flowering of plants, their statistical frequency, and the methods for classifying them, but the heart and bulk of the volume is a list of the Latin names of the collected plants. Usually accompanying each entry is the name of the collector, the common name or names of the plant, the times when it flowers and fruits, and, when the plant is not commonly found in the region, the locale where it was found. Sometimes further information is included in a note.
Ward's list of plants includes an indication as to whether the plant appeared on the 1830 Prodromus list, providing a valuable record of the impact of the growth of the Washington D.C. on the flora of the region. Unfortunately, the method of classifying plants has changed since 1881, making current use of the list difficult. However, many names are consistent with our names today. For example, Ward writes that Cannabis sativa grows in "waste lots in the city." Somethings haven't changed. Throughout the work, many current concerns about invasive species and habitat destruction are raised, though the concern is understandably less critical than it is today.
The final 28 pages are "Suggestions to Beginners," explaining in extraordinary detail the equipment needed to identify, collect, transport, preserve, and mount plants to be included in one's herbarium. Ward even recommends methods for mailing one's plant inventories and duplicate plants to other botanists when making trades. (By including nothing in writing in the packages of plants, one could take advantage of a cheaper postal rate.)
Flora of Washington contains a final gem: a 31" x 24" fold out map of the Washington D.C. region, printed in 1882. The region ranges from the Rockville and Laurel post offices in the north to the confluence of the Occaquan and Potomac Rivers in the south; and from the Bull Run post office in the west to the Patuxent River in the east. Along with the river system of the region, roads also appear on the map. Some have retained their names to the present, others have changed, but hardly any follow the same routes of their descendant roads today.
The volume begins with 59 pages describing the range and localities where plants were collected with various information about the flowering of plants, their statistical frequency, and the methods for classifying them, but the heart and bulk of the volume is a list of the Latin names of the collected plants. Usually accompanying each entry is the name of the collector, the common name or names of the plant, the times when it flowers and fruits, and, when the plant is not commonly found in the region, the locale where it was found. Sometimes further information is included in a note.
Ward's list of plants includes an indication as to whether the plant appeared on the 1830 Prodromus list, providing a valuable record of the impact of the growth of the Washington D.C. on the flora of the region. Unfortunately, the method of classifying plants has changed since 1881, making current use of the list difficult. However, many names are consistent with our names today. For example, Ward writes that Cannabis sativa grows in "waste lots in the city." Somethings haven't changed. Throughout the work, many current concerns about invasive species and habitat destruction are raised, though the concern is understandably less critical than it is today.
The final 28 pages are "Suggestions to Beginners," explaining in extraordinary detail the equipment needed to identify, collect, transport, preserve, and mount plants to be included in one's herbarium. Ward even recommends methods for mailing one's plant inventories and duplicate plants to other botanists when making trades. (By including nothing in writing in the packages of plants, one could take advantage of a cheaper postal rate.)
Flora of Washington contains a final gem: a 31" x 24" fold out map of the Washington D.C. region, printed in 1882. The region ranges from the Rockville and Laurel post offices in the north to the confluence of the Occaquan and Potomac Rivers in the south; and from the Bull Run post office in the west to the Patuxent River in the east. Along with the river system of the region, roads also appear on the map. Some have retained their names to the present, others have changed, but hardly any follow the same routes of their descendant roads today.
Days on the Road: Crossing the Plains in 1865 / Sarah Raymond Herndon -- Guilford, Conn.: Morris Book Publishing, 2003
This blog entry will not only review the book in the title, but will also review An Excursion to California over the Prairie, rocky Mountains, and Great Sierra Nevada by William Kelly published by chapman and hall, 1851. Both are accounts of travels across the Great Plains during America's westward expansion.
William Kelly describes his 1849 trip from Bristol, England to the United States and his overland travel to Missouri. Along the way, he joined with 23 other men looking to emigrate to California. At first the account seems rather fanciful, crafted mostly to entertain, but as the narrative proceeds, the mundane details of life crossing rough country demonstrate a degree of authenticity to Kelly's reporting. Much of his work describes the work needed to cross rivers, marshes, and rough country, the constant search for forage for the wagon train's mules and horses, the maddening irritation of biting insects, hunting expeditions, and sometimes dangerous encounters with Indians. The most harrowing segment of his trip occurred crossing the Nevada desert. Here, one gets a clear sense that the journey could easily end in the death of every emigrant.
In contrast, Sarah Raymond Herndon's account of traversing virtually the same ground (up to the Rocky Mountains) 16 years later, describes pic-nics and parties, visits to settlements along the route, and frequent encounters with other wagon trains. She reports hundreds of wagons gathered together in a "town of tents and wagons" at the crossing of the South Platte, with "thousands of cattle, hundreds of horses, and more than a thousand human beings" crossing the river in a single day. Like Kelly, Herndon describes encounters with bad weather, but for the 1865 emigrants, they were nuisances. For Kelly's 1849 expedition, they were life threatening.
While the elements posed a greater risk for Kelly, resistance from Indians were a greater threat to Herndon. Kelly describes encounters with the Pawnee, the Sioux, the Crow, the Utah, and the Digger Indians. His assessment of each group was a reflection of their wealth and hostility. Kelly found the Sioux, contrary to reports, quite dignified and amiable. The Crow were clearly the most hostile. Kelly scorned the impoverished Diggers, who eked out a meager existence in the deserts of Nevada.
In contrast, Herndon had few direct encounters with Indians. Certainly, the size of the wagon trains crossing the continent by 1865 and the hostilities between emigrants and natives made encounters less likely, but the fear of Indian attacks was great among many in Herndon's party and Herndon recounts reports of massacres.
Both narrators describe the encounters with Mormons and are repelled by their polygamy, but Kelly acknowledges their hospitality and industry, coming away with no small respect for them. Herndon's interactions are more superficial and likely less forgiving of their gender relations from the start.
After crossing the Rocky Mountains, their journeys take different paths. Kelly proceeds through Utah and Nevada to cross the Sierra Nevadas, while Herndon travels north through Idaho to Montana. Both parties were drawn by the allure of recently discovered gold.
Reading the two accounts back to back provides a clear picture of how conditions changed for emigrants during the intervening years. It is hard to imagine how wagons could have been pulled across the continent in the spring and summer of 1849 and amazing how civilized the trail had become in 16 short years. It is also striking how unaware most of the Native Americans were in 1849 of the pending consequence of white emigration through their lands, but by 1865, the disaster must have been clear to them. What does not change is the racist views of the white emigrants and their inability to see beyond the values of their own culture.
After reading these two accounts, I was moved to pick up Francis Parkman's classic work The Oregon Trail, an account of a historian making a journey across the plains to the Rocky Mountains, then south to New Mexico and back to Missouri. As Parkman was not an emigrant himself, his perspective on the emigrants and the people of the West is more objective and rather disparaging. From the several score pages that I have read in The Oregon Trail, Parkman's literary style is far more refined than either of the authors reviewed here. It promises to be very engaging.
William Kelly describes his 1849 trip from Bristol, England to the United States and his overland travel to Missouri. Along the way, he joined with 23 other men looking to emigrate to California. At first the account seems rather fanciful, crafted mostly to entertain, but as the narrative proceeds, the mundane details of life crossing rough country demonstrate a degree of authenticity to Kelly's reporting. Much of his work describes the work needed to cross rivers, marshes, and rough country, the constant search for forage for the wagon train's mules and horses, the maddening irritation of biting insects, hunting expeditions, and sometimes dangerous encounters with Indians. The most harrowing segment of his trip occurred crossing the Nevada desert. Here, one gets a clear sense that the journey could easily end in the death of every emigrant.
In contrast, Sarah Raymond Herndon's account of traversing virtually the same ground (up to the Rocky Mountains) 16 years later, describes pic-nics and parties, visits to settlements along the route, and frequent encounters with other wagon trains. She reports hundreds of wagons gathered together in a "town of tents and wagons" at the crossing of the South Platte, with "thousands of cattle, hundreds of horses, and more than a thousand human beings" crossing the river in a single day. Like Kelly, Herndon describes encounters with bad weather, but for the 1865 emigrants, they were nuisances. For Kelly's 1849 expedition, they were life threatening.
While the elements posed a greater risk for Kelly, resistance from Indians were a greater threat to Herndon. Kelly describes encounters with the Pawnee, the Sioux, the Crow, the Utah, and the Digger Indians. His assessment of each group was a reflection of their wealth and hostility. Kelly found the Sioux, contrary to reports, quite dignified and amiable. The Crow were clearly the most hostile. Kelly scorned the impoverished Diggers, who eked out a meager existence in the deserts of Nevada.
In contrast, Herndon had few direct encounters with Indians. Certainly, the size of the wagon trains crossing the continent by 1865 and the hostilities between emigrants and natives made encounters less likely, but the fear of Indian attacks was great among many in Herndon's party and Herndon recounts reports of massacres.
Both narrators describe the encounters with Mormons and are repelled by their polygamy, but Kelly acknowledges their hospitality and industry, coming away with no small respect for them. Herndon's interactions are more superficial and likely less forgiving of their gender relations from the start.
After crossing the Rocky Mountains, their journeys take different paths. Kelly proceeds through Utah and Nevada to cross the Sierra Nevadas, while Herndon travels north through Idaho to Montana. Both parties were drawn by the allure of recently discovered gold.
Reading the two accounts back to back provides a clear picture of how conditions changed for emigrants during the intervening years. It is hard to imagine how wagons could have been pulled across the continent in the spring and summer of 1849 and amazing how civilized the trail had become in 16 short years. It is also striking how unaware most of the Native Americans were in 1849 of the pending consequence of white emigration through their lands, but by 1865, the disaster must have been clear to them. What does not change is the racist views of the white emigrants and their inability to see beyond the values of their own culture.
After reading these two accounts, I was moved to pick up Francis Parkman's classic work The Oregon Trail, an account of a historian making a journey across the plains to the Rocky Mountains, then south to New Mexico and back to Missouri. As Parkman was not an emigrant himself, his perspective on the emigrants and the people of the West is more objective and rather disparaging. From the several score pages that I have read in The Oregon Trail, Parkman's literary style is far more refined than either of the authors reviewed here. It promises to be very engaging.
An Excursion to California Over the Prarie, Rocky Mountains, and Great Sierra Nevada / William Kelly -- London: Chapman and Hall, 1851
This blog entry will not only review the book in the title, but will also review Days on the Road: Crossing the Plains in 1865 the diary of Sarah Raymond Herndon, published by the Morris Book Publishing Company, 2003. Both are accounts of travels across the Great Plains during America's westward expansion.
William Kelly describes his 1849 trip from Bristol, England to the United States and his overland travel to Missouri. Along the way, he joined with 23 other men looking to emigrate to California. At first the account seems rather fanciful, crafted mostly to entertain, but as the narrative proceeds, the mundane details of life crossing rough country demonstrate a degree of authenticity to Kelly's reporting. Much of his work describes the work needed to cross rivers, marshes, and rough country, the constant search for forage for the wagon train's mules and horses, the maddening irritation of biting insects, hunting expeditions, and sometimes dangerous encounters with Indians. The most harrowing segment of his trip occurred crossing the Nevada desert. Here, one gets a clear sense that the journey could easily end in the death of every emigrant.
In contrast, Sarah Raymond Herndon's account of traversing virtually the same ground (up to the Rocky Mountains) 16 years later, describes pic-nics and parties, visits to settlements along the route, and frequent encounters with other wagon trains. She reports hundreds of wagons gathered together in a "town of tents and wagons" at the crossing of the South Platte, with "thousands of cattle, hundreds of horses, and more than a thousand human beings" crossing the river in a single day. Like Kelly, Herndon describes encounters with bad weather, but for the 1865 emigrants, they were nuisances. For Kelly's 1849 expedition, they were life threatening.
While the elements posed a greater risk for Kelly, resistance from Indians were a greater threat to Herndon. Kelly describes encounters with the Pawnee, the Sioux, the Crow, the Utah, and the Digger Indians. His assessment of each group was a reflection of their wealth and hostility. Kelly found the Sioux, contrary to reports, quite dignified and amiable. The Crow were clearly the most hostile. Kelly scorned the impoverished Diggers, who eked out a meager existence in the deserts of Nevada.
In contrast, Herndon had few direct encounters with Indians. Certainly, the size of the wagon trains crossing the continent by 1865 and the hostilities between emigrants and natives made encounters less likely, but the fear of Indian attacks was great among many in Herndon's party and Herndon recounts reports of massacres.
Both narrators describe the encounters with Mormons and are repelled by their polygamy, but Kelly acknowledges their hospitality and industry, coming away with no small respect for them. Herndon's interactions are more superficial and likely less forgiving of their gender relations from the start.
After crossing the Rocky Mountains, their journeys take different paths. Kelly proceeds through Utah and Nevada to cross the Sierra Nevadas, while Herndon travels north through Idaho to Montana. Both parties were drawn by the allure of recently discovered gold.
Reading the two accounts back to back provides a clear picture of how conditions changed for emigrants during the intervening years. It is hard to imagine how wagons could have been pulled across the continent in the spring and summer of 1849 and amazing how civilized the trail had become in 16 short years. It is also striking how unaware most of the Native Americans were in 1849 of the pending consequence of white emigration through their lands, but by 1865, the disaster must have been clear to them. What does not change is the racist views of the white emigrants and their inability to see beyond the values of their own culture.
After reading these two accounts, I was moved to pick up Francis Parkman's classic work The Oregon Trail, an account of a historian making a journey across the plains to the Rocky Mountains, then south to New Mexico and back to Missouri. As Parkman was not an emigrant himself, his perspective on the emigrants and the people of the West is more objective and rather disparaging. From the several score pages that I have read in The Oregon Trail, Parkman's literary style is far more refined than either of the authors reviewed here. It promises to be very engaging.
William Kelly describes his 1849 trip from Bristol, England to the United States and his overland travel to Missouri. Along the way, he joined with 23 other men looking to emigrate to California. At first the account seems rather fanciful, crafted mostly to entertain, but as the narrative proceeds, the mundane details of life crossing rough country demonstrate a degree of authenticity to Kelly's reporting. Much of his work describes the work needed to cross rivers, marshes, and rough country, the constant search for forage for the wagon train's mules and horses, the maddening irritation of biting insects, hunting expeditions, and sometimes dangerous encounters with Indians. The most harrowing segment of his trip occurred crossing the Nevada desert. Here, one gets a clear sense that the journey could easily end in the death of every emigrant.
In contrast, Sarah Raymond Herndon's account of traversing virtually the same ground (up to the Rocky Mountains) 16 years later, describes pic-nics and parties, visits to settlements along the route, and frequent encounters with other wagon trains. She reports hundreds of wagons gathered together in a "town of tents and wagons" at the crossing of the South Platte, with "thousands of cattle, hundreds of horses, and more than a thousand human beings" crossing the river in a single day. Like Kelly, Herndon describes encounters with bad weather, but for the 1865 emigrants, they were nuisances. For Kelly's 1849 expedition, they were life threatening.
While the elements posed a greater risk for Kelly, resistance from Indians were a greater threat to Herndon. Kelly describes encounters with the Pawnee, the Sioux, the Crow, the Utah, and the Digger Indians. His assessment of each group was a reflection of their wealth and hostility. Kelly found the Sioux, contrary to reports, quite dignified and amiable. The Crow were clearly the most hostile. Kelly scorned the impoverished Diggers, who eked out a meager existence in the deserts of Nevada.
In contrast, Herndon had few direct encounters with Indians. Certainly, the size of the wagon trains crossing the continent by 1865 and the hostilities between emigrants and natives made encounters less likely, but the fear of Indian attacks was great among many in Herndon's party and Herndon recounts reports of massacres.
Both narrators describe the encounters with Mormons and are repelled by their polygamy, but Kelly acknowledges their hospitality and industry, coming away with no small respect for them. Herndon's interactions are more superficial and likely less forgiving of their gender relations from the start.
After crossing the Rocky Mountains, their journeys take different paths. Kelly proceeds through Utah and Nevada to cross the Sierra Nevadas, while Herndon travels north through Idaho to Montana. Both parties were drawn by the allure of recently discovered gold.
Reading the two accounts back to back provides a clear picture of how conditions changed for emigrants during the intervening years. It is hard to imagine how wagons could have been pulled across the continent in the spring and summer of 1849 and amazing how civilized the trail had become in 16 short years. It is also striking how unaware most of the Native Americans were in 1849 of the pending consequence of white emigration through their lands, but by 1865, the disaster must have been clear to them. What does not change is the racist views of the white emigrants and their inability to see beyond the values of their own culture.
After reading these two accounts, I was moved to pick up Francis Parkman's classic work The Oregon Trail, an account of a historian making a journey across the plains to the Rocky Mountains, then south to New Mexico and back to Missouri. As Parkman was not an emigrant himself, his perspective on the emigrants and the people of the West is more objective and rather disparaging. From the several score pages that I have read in The Oregon Trail, Parkman's literary style is far more refined than either of the authors reviewed here. It promises to be very engaging.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Blindness / Jose Saramago -- Giovanni Pontiero, trans., NY: Harcourt Brace and Co., 1998
Blindness describes the experiences of a small group of people who are among the first to go blind in a nearly sudden, universal epidemic of blindness. The primary interest in the story is its account of how human behavior would change under such circumstances. The basic premise is implausible, but could be easily forgiven if it served to illustrate some important idea. It does not. Furthermore, many of the actions of the characters are less than believable. During the epidemic, there is one woman who retains her sight. There is no explanation for the exception. Her purpose in the novel appears only to allow the other characters some greater degree of freedom to cope with their situation.
Saramago's writing occasionally hints of a broader meaning of the blindness, but he is never clear, and his hints are too infrequent and unintelligable for any text-based interpretation to emerge. If Blindness is an allegory, it is hopelessly obscure. What is left is a simple exploration of how an epidemic of blindness might lead to social chaos and psychological stress -- not a terribly surprising consequence. For a more meaningful examination of how people behave under extreme stress, one would do much better to read Elie Wiesel's account of his actual experiences during the Holocaust in Night.
Saramago's writing occasionally hints of a broader meaning of the blindness, but he is never clear, and his hints are too infrequent and unintelligable for any text-based interpretation to emerge. If Blindness is an allegory, it is hopelessly obscure. What is left is a simple exploration of how an epidemic of blindness might lead to social chaos and psychological stress -- not a terribly surprising consequence. For a more meaningful examination of how people behave under extreme stress, one would do much better to read Elie Wiesel's account of his actual experiences during the Holocaust in Night.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Die Is Cast: Arkansas Goes to War, 1861 / Mark K. Christ, ed. -- Little Rock, Ark.: Butler Center Books, 2010
One of the amazing things about the American Civil War is that after almost 150 years, so many people remain utterly obsessed with it. The war's enormous human toll is surely a significant explanation for this. Nonetheless, it is astonishing that people in every corner of the country that saw any part of the struggle meticulously pick over the smallest details of their locality's role in the war, making the Civil War perhaps the most studied (and understood) events in history.
In August of 2008, the Old State House Museum in Little Rock, Arkansas hosted five historians at a seminar entitled "The Die is Cast: Arkansas Goes to War" in which the secession of Arkansas was examined from a variety of perspectives. Under the editorship of Mark Christ, the seminar's five papers create a brief but interesting insight into a little-studied corner of the Civil War.
Among the most interesting papers is Thomas A. DeBlack's "'A Remarkably Strong Union Sentiment': Unionism in Arkansas." DeBlack explains, "Arkansas needed the Union more than many other states. Citizens of western Arkansas, bordered by the Indian Territory, wanted the protection and economic benefits that the presence of federal troops supplied. Delta residents hoped to benefit from a federal swamplands reclamation project begun in 1850." Only 20% of the white population owned slaves and the remaining population saw no strong reason to sacrifice their interests for these slave owners. Even the slave owners were divided as to the wisdom of secession. Economically, Arkansas was more closely integrated with Missouri and the Old Northwest than with the rest of the South. While the sentiment in favor of secession was weak, the sentiment against forcing states to remain in the Union was strong, ultimately resulting in the secession of Arkansas.
In "Why they Fought: Arkansas Goes to War, 1861," Carl H. Moneyhon explains that the allure of adventure and manly pride motivated the state's young men to sign on to the Confederate cause. Once committed to the struggle, the combatants remained in the struggle both out of personal integrity and out of a conversion to the cause. In "Domesticity Goes Public: Southern Women and the Secession Crisis," Lisa Tendrich Frank describes the moral force that women played in pushing men into battle.
The remaining two papers tell less specialized stories, or at least cover the kind of subject common in Civil War histories. Michael A. Dougan describes the Arkansas Secession Convention and William Garrett Piston describes the involvement of Arkansas troops in the Wilson's Creek Campaign.
While each of the five papers address a distinct aspect of the Civil War in Arkansas, there is enough overlap and connection between them to provide the reader with a coherent, broad picture in a rather short work. Whether this was accidental or a result of the work of editor Mark Christ is not clear, but the volume certainly benefits from the interconnections. The work, however, is not so compelling that one is left with a strong desire to learn more about Arkansas in the Civil War. A brief glimpse is enough.
In August of 2008, the Old State House Museum in Little Rock, Arkansas hosted five historians at a seminar entitled "The Die is Cast: Arkansas Goes to War" in which the secession of Arkansas was examined from a variety of perspectives. Under the editorship of Mark Christ, the seminar's five papers create a brief but interesting insight into a little-studied corner of the Civil War.
Among the most interesting papers is Thomas A. DeBlack's "'A Remarkably Strong Union Sentiment': Unionism in Arkansas." DeBlack explains, "Arkansas needed the Union more than many other states. Citizens of western Arkansas, bordered by the Indian Territory, wanted the protection and economic benefits that the presence of federal troops supplied. Delta residents hoped to benefit from a federal swamplands reclamation project begun in 1850." Only 20% of the white population owned slaves and the remaining population saw no strong reason to sacrifice their interests for these slave owners. Even the slave owners were divided as to the wisdom of secession. Economically, Arkansas was more closely integrated with Missouri and the Old Northwest than with the rest of the South. While the sentiment in favor of secession was weak, the sentiment against forcing states to remain in the Union was strong, ultimately resulting in the secession of Arkansas.
In "Why they Fought: Arkansas Goes to War, 1861," Carl H. Moneyhon explains that the allure of adventure and manly pride motivated the state's young men to sign on to the Confederate cause. Once committed to the struggle, the combatants remained in the struggle both out of personal integrity and out of a conversion to the cause. In "Domesticity Goes Public: Southern Women and the Secession Crisis," Lisa Tendrich Frank describes the moral force that women played in pushing men into battle.
The remaining two papers tell less specialized stories, or at least cover the kind of subject common in Civil War histories. Michael A. Dougan describes the Arkansas Secession Convention and William Garrett Piston describes the involvement of Arkansas troops in the Wilson's Creek Campaign.
While each of the five papers address a distinct aspect of the Civil War in Arkansas, there is enough overlap and connection between them to provide the reader with a coherent, broad picture in a rather short work. Whether this was accidental or a result of the work of editor Mark Christ is not clear, but the volume certainly benefits from the interconnections. The work, however, is not so compelling that one is left with a strong desire to learn more about Arkansas in the Civil War. A brief glimpse is enough.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Lincoln for President: An Underdog's Path to the 1860 Republican Nomination / Timothy S. Good -- McFarland & Co.: Jefferson, N.C., 2009.
Abraham Lincoln's election to the presidency demonstrates how different the selection of the president in 1860 was to how it is today. To begin with, ballot access was quite different. Political parties printed their own ballots and distributed them to voters. Consequently, any number of candidates could receive votes. In 1860, divisions among the political elite led to four main candidates in the general election: Lincoln, Stephen A. Douglas, John C. Breckenridge, and John Bell. All of Lincoln's opponents in the general election supported policies that would permit the extension of slavery into the territories. Consequently, they divided the "pro-slavery" vote and Lincoln won with a plurality.
But prior to the general election, Lincoln's nomination was even more doubtful. As a little known politician, Lincoln's chance of defeating William Seward was tiny. Seward's standing the Republican Party made him so confident of his nomination that he spent much of the year leading up to the Party's convention traveling through Europe; however, Seward's "negatives" were high enough to promote what today might be called an "anyone but Seward" movement. But again, Lincoln was only one of many alternatives to Seward. Most prominent among them were Pennsylvania U.S. Senator Simon Cameron, Ohio Governor Salmon P. Chase, and the former Missouri U.S. Representative Edward Bates, but also former New Jersey U.S. Senator William Drayton, Supreme Court Judge John McLean, and Vermont U.S. Senator Jacob Collamer, among others.
The opposition to Seward was based primarily on the belief that he would not be able to carry the "battleground states" of Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. The Republicans had swept the northern states except for these in 1956. Winning them would give the Republican candidate a majority of the electoral college votes in 1860. On the second day of the convention, a long debate broke out over including words from the Declaration of Independence in the party platform, thus preventing a vote that would have nominated Seward. A night of intense negotiations followed, in which representatives from the four battleground states gathered to settle on a candidate who could best win those states. By morning, the representatives agreed to recommend Lincoln to their state delegations, but they could not guarantee the votes. That morning, The New York Times remained confident of a Seward victory.
When the first ballot of the convention was cast, the Indiana delegation voted unanimously for Lincoln, an omen that Seward's nomination was not certain. Indeed, he failed to achieve a majority. Furthermore, Lincoln held a commanding lead over Seward's rivals. On the second ballot, Vermont (the most Republican state of all) cast all of its ten votes for Lincoln. Other anti-Seward delegates began to rally around Lincoln, giving him 181 votes to Seward's 184 and a half. Two hundred and thirty-three were needed for victory. On the third ballot, Lincoln's support increased to 231 and a half, but before the vote could be announced, four delegates changed their votes to Lincoln, giving him a majority and the nomination.
Timothy S. Good's short work, Lincoln for President recounts this drama in compelling detail. Instead of a long drawn out primary season conducted under the glare of national media, Lincoln's nomination was engineered in the legendary smoke-filled rooms of the convention city's hotels, and it was done so at the eleventh hour without any certainty of success, even as the votes were being counted.
Good's account of Lincoln's path to the nomination, however, also provides the back story to the convention, following Lincoln's campaign in the Midwest, New York, and New England. According to Good, Lincoln's recent defeat at the hands of Stephen A. Douglas for U.S. Senate led Lincoln to think his political career was over, but as the anti-Seward forces sought alternative candidates, Lincoln's notoriety from the Lincoln-Douglas debates brought him to consideration.
During his campaign, Lincoln abandoned his occasional remarks in favor of second class citizenship for blacks and he instead embraced the ringing phrase of the Declaration of Independence that "all men are created equal." Central to his campaign was his opposition to the extension of slavery and a commitment not to interfere with slavery where it existed. These positions were no different from Seward's. Furthermore, Seward's most notorious assertion that the country was heading for an "irrepressible conflict" was mirrored in Lincoln's assertion that the government could not "endure permanently, half slave and half free; that a house divided against itself cannot stand." Indeed, Lincoln defended Seward's "irrepressible conflict" position while campaigning in New England.
According to Good, Lincoln's success as a candidate, both for the nomination and in the general election, could be attributed to his even, genial temper and his unwillingness to personally attack his opponents, both inside and outside the Party. This may, indeed, have been a significant factor, but given the deep divisions within the country and within the Democratic Party, Lincoln appears to have been the beneficiary of numerous circumstance beyond his control, so many so that one might add his name to the list of accidental presidents.
But prior to the general election, Lincoln's nomination was even more doubtful. As a little known politician, Lincoln's chance of defeating William Seward was tiny. Seward's standing the Republican Party made him so confident of his nomination that he spent much of the year leading up to the Party's convention traveling through Europe; however, Seward's "negatives" were high enough to promote what today might be called an "anyone but Seward" movement. But again, Lincoln was only one of many alternatives to Seward. Most prominent among them were Pennsylvania U.S. Senator Simon Cameron, Ohio Governor Salmon P. Chase, and the former Missouri U.S. Representative Edward Bates, but also former New Jersey U.S. Senator William Drayton, Supreme Court Judge John McLean, and Vermont U.S. Senator Jacob Collamer, among others.
The opposition to Seward was based primarily on the belief that he would not be able to carry the "battleground states" of Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. The Republicans had swept the northern states except for these in 1956. Winning them would give the Republican candidate a majority of the electoral college votes in 1860. On the second day of the convention, a long debate broke out over including words from the Declaration of Independence in the party platform, thus preventing a vote that would have nominated Seward. A night of intense negotiations followed, in which representatives from the four battleground states gathered to settle on a candidate who could best win those states. By morning, the representatives agreed to recommend Lincoln to their state delegations, but they could not guarantee the votes. That morning, The New York Times remained confident of a Seward victory.
When the first ballot of the convention was cast, the Indiana delegation voted unanimously for Lincoln, an omen that Seward's nomination was not certain. Indeed, he failed to achieve a majority. Furthermore, Lincoln held a commanding lead over Seward's rivals. On the second ballot, Vermont (the most Republican state of all) cast all of its ten votes for Lincoln. Other anti-Seward delegates began to rally around Lincoln, giving him 181 votes to Seward's 184 and a half. Two hundred and thirty-three were needed for victory. On the third ballot, Lincoln's support increased to 231 and a half, but before the vote could be announced, four delegates changed their votes to Lincoln, giving him a majority and the nomination.
Timothy S. Good's short work, Lincoln for President recounts this drama in compelling detail. Instead of a long drawn out primary season conducted under the glare of national media, Lincoln's nomination was engineered in the legendary smoke-filled rooms of the convention city's hotels, and it was done so at the eleventh hour without any certainty of success, even as the votes were being counted.
Good's account of Lincoln's path to the nomination, however, also provides the back story to the convention, following Lincoln's campaign in the Midwest, New York, and New England. According to Good, Lincoln's recent defeat at the hands of Stephen A. Douglas for U.S. Senate led Lincoln to think his political career was over, but as the anti-Seward forces sought alternative candidates, Lincoln's notoriety from the Lincoln-Douglas debates brought him to consideration.
During his campaign, Lincoln abandoned his occasional remarks in favor of second class citizenship for blacks and he instead embraced the ringing phrase of the Declaration of Independence that "all men are created equal." Central to his campaign was his opposition to the extension of slavery and a commitment not to interfere with slavery where it existed. These positions were no different from Seward's. Furthermore, Seward's most notorious assertion that the country was heading for an "irrepressible conflict" was mirrored in Lincoln's assertion that the government could not "endure permanently, half slave and half free; that a house divided against itself cannot stand." Indeed, Lincoln defended Seward's "irrepressible conflict" position while campaigning in New England.
According to Good, Lincoln's success as a candidate, both for the nomination and in the general election, could be attributed to his even, genial temper and his unwillingness to personally attack his opponents, both inside and outside the Party. This may, indeed, have been a significant factor, but given the deep divisions within the country and within the Democratic Party, Lincoln appears to have been the beneficiary of numerous circumstance beyond his control, so many so that one might add his name to the list of accidental presidents.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Slavery and the Supreme Court, 1825-1861 / Earl M. Maltz -- Lawrence, Kan.: University Press of Kansas, 2009
In the decades preceding the Civil War, the question of slavery grew to be all consuming: morally, politically, socially, economically, and legally. Maltz's Slavery and the Supreme Court is a close analysis of the legal issues related to slavery. Often the cases that were before state and federal courts directly addressed a particular issue among a nexus of slavery issues, but more often jurists chose to skirt the central issue and argue their cases on the tangential grounds of jurisdiction and standing. Consequently, a study of the antebellum slavery cases is complex and technical. Maltz does not shy away from these details, making his work difficult and sometimes turgid for anyone without a legal background.
Despite the challenge, Slavery and the Supreme Court repays careful the attention of a lay reader. Four issues dominated the legal history of slavery: the international slave trade, the interstate slave trade, fugitive slave laws, and the territorial expansion of slavery. Among these, fugitive slave laws were the most contentious, though the issue of the expansion of slavery into the territories ultimately led to the war.
Maltz describes the suppression of the international slave trade and the 1825 Supreme Court case known as The Antelope which established the power of the federal government to enforce the Constitutional ban on the international slave trade. A more complex legal struggle followed in 1841 when the power of the federal government to regulate the interstate slave trade came before the Court in Groves v. Slaughter. Here the constitution of the state of Mississippi banned the importation of slaves, but nonetheless slaves were imported during the 1830s. So many so, that promissory notes were issued to pay for them. When the Mississippi economy collapsed, purchasers relied on the constitutional ban to renege on their promises. In a split and complicated set of opinions, the Court was understood to have denied the authority of the federal government to regulate the interstate slave trade and endorsed the power of states to regulate it; however, the Courts opinions indicated an unwillingness to deal directly with the central legal issues and instead the Court fashioned a decision that would avoid sectional conflict.
The issue of Fugitive Slaves was more complicated still. Ostensibly protected by a Constitutional guarantee, slave catchers were retrieving runaway slaves through out the North -- much to the disapproval of Northerners. By the 1820s, many free states had passed "personal liberty laws" requiring slave catchers to establish the identity of runaway slaves before a state court. Essentially, the legal obstacles would put them out of business. In Prigg v. Pennsylvania, these laws were put to the test. Again, the Court's opinion was based less on legal principle and more on political expedience. While striking down Pennsylvania's personal liberty law and allowing slave catchers to transport their captives back into slavery, Prigg v. Pennsylvania denied that the federal government or state governments had any obligation to assist in the capture of runaway slaves. In practice, this turned out to be a victory for the anti-slavery forces.
In 1850, Congress addressed the issue in the Fugitive Slave Act which was part of a set of compromise laws related to slavery. The Fugitive Slave Act required federal and state governments to assist in the capture of runaways. It even authorized the authorities to require private citizens to participate in the capture. Anti-slavery forces were, of course, outraged and often attempted to avoid abiding by this law. Among the most important cases that came of this resistance was Ableman v. Booth in which the Wisconsin Supreme Court attempted to nullify the 1850 Fugitive Slave Act and acquit Sherman Booth of assisting in the escape of a Joshua Glover, a runaway slave. The incident took place in 1854, but the case dragged on until 1859 with Wisconsin curiously rejecting the authority of the federal government to enforce federal law. Ultimately, the Supreme Court held in favor of federal authority.
While Ableman v. Booth was being litigated, the most famous Supreme Court slavery case, Dred Scott v. Sandford, was tried. Here the critical issue turned on the authority of the federal government to prohibit slavery in the territories. Famously, Chief Justice Roger Taney wrote for the majority of a divided court that the federal government had no such power. This clearly established a central aim of the pro-slavery forces, but according to Maltz, even this ruling was an attempt by the Court to fashion a solution that would end sectional strife, this time by taking a contentious issue out of the political arena. Of course it did nothing of the sort, and opposition to the Dred Scott decision was a powerful force leading to the election of Abraham Lincoln and other Republican law makers.
One last case, Kentucky v. Dennison (1860), that Maltz describes clearly expressed the dominant judicial view in the South just prior to secession. Here the Court ruled that the Governor of Ohio, William Dennison, was required to extradite a man accused of assisting the escape of a slave, but that the federal government had no power to enforce this mandate. This was precisely the view that leading Southerners and President Buchannan held with regard to secession. Southern states had no constitutional right to secede, but the federal government had no authority to take action against them if they did.
In all, the judicial issues related to slavery prior to the war turned on numerous judicial principles and constitutional issues that did not always speak directly to slavery: most important was the power of states vis-a-vis the federal government, but also the commerce clause, the comity clause, the relationship between the fugitive slave clause and the extradition clause, and the power of states to establish who among their residents would be citizens. Maltz's treatment of these issues makes it clear that the pro-slavery and anti-slavery advocates were willing to adopt any position on these issues that would further their cause and that the Supreme Court justices sought to avoid sectional conflict by issuing opinions that dubiously respected judicial and constitutional principles in favor of sectional harmony. Nonetheless, in the words of William Seward, the country was heading into and "irrepressible conflict," where antagonistic political forces would not be denied by Court rulings.
Despite the challenge, Slavery and the Supreme Court repays careful the attention of a lay reader. Four issues dominated the legal history of slavery: the international slave trade, the interstate slave trade, fugitive slave laws, and the territorial expansion of slavery. Among these, fugitive slave laws were the most contentious, though the issue of the expansion of slavery into the territories ultimately led to the war.
Maltz describes the suppression of the international slave trade and the 1825 Supreme Court case known as The Antelope which established the power of the federal government to enforce the Constitutional ban on the international slave trade. A more complex legal struggle followed in 1841 when the power of the federal government to regulate the interstate slave trade came before the Court in Groves v. Slaughter. Here the constitution of the state of Mississippi banned the importation of slaves, but nonetheless slaves were imported during the 1830s. So many so, that promissory notes were issued to pay for them. When the Mississippi economy collapsed, purchasers relied on the constitutional ban to renege on their promises. In a split and complicated set of opinions, the Court was understood to have denied the authority of the federal government to regulate the interstate slave trade and endorsed the power of states to regulate it; however, the Courts opinions indicated an unwillingness to deal directly with the central legal issues and instead the Court fashioned a decision that would avoid sectional conflict.
The issue of Fugitive Slaves was more complicated still. Ostensibly protected by a Constitutional guarantee, slave catchers were retrieving runaway slaves through out the North -- much to the disapproval of Northerners. By the 1820s, many free states had passed "personal liberty laws" requiring slave catchers to establish the identity of runaway slaves before a state court. Essentially, the legal obstacles would put them out of business. In Prigg v. Pennsylvania, these laws were put to the test. Again, the Court's opinion was based less on legal principle and more on political expedience. While striking down Pennsylvania's personal liberty law and allowing slave catchers to transport their captives back into slavery, Prigg v. Pennsylvania denied that the federal government or state governments had any obligation to assist in the capture of runaway slaves. In practice, this turned out to be a victory for the anti-slavery forces.
In 1850, Congress addressed the issue in the Fugitive Slave Act which was part of a set of compromise laws related to slavery. The Fugitive Slave Act required federal and state governments to assist in the capture of runaways. It even authorized the authorities to require private citizens to participate in the capture. Anti-slavery forces were, of course, outraged and often attempted to avoid abiding by this law. Among the most important cases that came of this resistance was Ableman v. Booth in which the Wisconsin Supreme Court attempted to nullify the 1850 Fugitive Slave Act and acquit Sherman Booth of assisting in the escape of a Joshua Glover, a runaway slave. The incident took place in 1854, but the case dragged on until 1859 with Wisconsin curiously rejecting the authority of the federal government to enforce federal law. Ultimately, the Supreme Court held in favor of federal authority.
While Ableman v. Booth was being litigated, the most famous Supreme Court slavery case, Dred Scott v. Sandford, was tried. Here the critical issue turned on the authority of the federal government to prohibit slavery in the territories. Famously, Chief Justice Roger Taney wrote for the majority of a divided court that the federal government had no such power. This clearly established a central aim of the pro-slavery forces, but according to Maltz, even this ruling was an attempt by the Court to fashion a solution that would end sectional strife, this time by taking a contentious issue out of the political arena. Of course it did nothing of the sort, and opposition to the Dred Scott decision was a powerful force leading to the election of Abraham Lincoln and other Republican law makers.
One last case, Kentucky v. Dennison (1860), that Maltz describes clearly expressed the dominant judicial view in the South just prior to secession. Here the Court ruled that the Governor of Ohio, William Dennison, was required to extradite a man accused of assisting the escape of a slave, but that the federal government had no power to enforce this mandate. This was precisely the view that leading Southerners and President Buchannan held with regard to secession. Southern states had no constitutional right to secede, but the federal government had no authority to take action against them if they did.
In all, the judicial issues related to slavery prior to the war turned on numerous judicial principles and constitutional issues that did not always speak directly to slavery: most important was the power of states vis-a-vis the federal government, but also the commerce clause, the comity clause, the relationship between the fugitive slave clause and the extradition clause, and the power of states to establish who among their residents would be citizens. Maltz's treatment of these issues makes it clear that the pro-slavery and anti-slavery advocates were willing to adopt any position on these issues that would further their cause and that the Supreme Court justices sought to avoid sectional conflict by issuing opinions that dubiously respected judicial and constitutional principles in favor of sectional harmony. Nonetheless, in the words of William Seward, the country was heading into and "irrepressible conflict," where antagonistic political forces would not be denied by Court rulings.
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Codes of Hammurabi and Moses with Copious Comments, Index, and Bible References / W.W. Davies -- Cincinnati: Jennings and Graham, 1905
More recent translations of The Code of Hammurabi are probably more reliable than Davies's 1905 translation, but the "copious comments, index, and Bible references" in this translation make it well worth perusing. Davies writes in his introduction that Hammurabi flourished about 2250 BC. More recent historians place him 500 years later (see Gerda Lerner's The Creation of Patriarchy and The Ancient Near East, Vol 1, edited by James B. Pritchard); but even this later date places his Code well before Mosaic Law, and so it is interesting to see what in Mosaic Law is prefigured in Hammurabi's Code. Davies's volume goes beyond annotating Hammurabi with Biblical citations. It often includes the full Biblical text for comparison and is valuably augmented by his commentary.
The strong similarities between the two legal systems probably does not indicate a direct borrowing of one from the other, but instead is evidence of the continuity between the Old Babylonian society and Judea of the first millennium BC. The Code is a remarkable compendium of contract law, family law, and criminal law. There are even regulations for sentencing and clues to judicial procedure. Careful study can reveal the relative legal standing of different elements of the society and broad principles of justice, most generally: lex talionis.
Punishments ranged from fines -- usually a multiple of the value of what was illegally lost, stolen, or destroyed -- to whipping, mutilation, and death. Executions generally were accomplished by drowning or burning the felon, possibly burning him or her alive.
The parallels with Mosaic Law and even with contemporary legal principles are sometimes striking, leading one to wonder how deeply seated is our sense of justice.
Perhaps most interesting, though, is the inventory of social positions and occupations that can be generated from the Code, giving the careful reader a vivid picture of life in Old Babylon where grains, fruit, cattle, oxen, sheep, asses, and goats provided sustenance. The Code regulates farmers, herders, orchard growers, tenants, landlords, sailors, traveling salesmen, teamsters, business agents, money lenders, doctors, artisans, brick makers, tailors, stone cutters, carpenters, builders, tavern keepers, kings, priests, sacred prostitutes, slaves, masters, indentured servants, husbands, wives, concubines, fathers, step-fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, neighbors, and aliens. The mores and behavior of these people are revealed by the laws that Hammurabi found necessary to promulgate. Infractions were few enough to be regulated, but frequent enough to need regulation.
The strong similarities between the two legal systems probably does not indicate a direct borrowing of one from the other, but instead is evidence of the continuity between the Old Babylonian society and Judea of the first millennium BC. The Code is a remarkable compendium of contract law, family law, and criminal law. There are even regulations for sentencing and clues to judicial procedure. Careful study can reveal the relative legal standing of different elements of the society and broad principles of justice, most generally: lex talionis.
Punishments ranged from fines -- usually a multiple of the value of what was illegally lost, stolen, or destroyed -- to whipping, mutilation, and death. Executions generally were accomplished by drowning or burning the felon, possibly burning him or her alive.
The parallels with Mosaic Law and even with contemporary legal principles are sometimes striking, leading one to wonder how deeply seated is our sense of justice.
Perhaps most interesting, though, is the inventory of social positions and occupations that can be generated from the Code, giving the careful reader a vivid picture of life in Old Babylon where grains, fruit, cattle, oxen, sheep, asses, and goats provided sustenance. The Code regulates farmers, herders, orchard growers, tenants, landlords, sailors, traveling salesmen, teamsters, business agents, money lenders, doctors, artisans, brick makers, tailors, stone cutters, carpenters, builders, tavern keepers, kings, priests, sacred prostitutes, slaves, masters, indentured servants, husbands, wives, concubines, fathers, step-fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, neighbors, and aliens. The mores and behavior of these people are revealed by the laws that Hammurabi found necessary to promulgate. Infractions were few enough to be regulated, but frequent enough to need regulation.
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