The
Abuses of History
By
Chris Hedges
September 25, 2017 "Information
Clearing House"
-
Historians, like
journalists, are in the business of manipulating
facts. Some use facts to tell truths, however
unpleasant. But many more omit, highlight and at
times distort them in ways that sustain national
myths and buttress dominant narratives. The
failure by most of the United States’ popular
historians and the press to tell stories of
oppression and the struggles against it,
especially by women, people of color, the
working class and the poor, has contributed to
the sickening triumphalism and chauvinism that
are poisoning our society. The historian
James W.
Loewen, in his
book “Lies Across America: What Our Historic
Markers and Monuments Get Wrong,” calls the
monuments that celebrate our highly selective
and distorted history a “landscape of denial.”
The historian
Carl Becker
wrote, “History is what the present chooses to
remember about the past.” And as a nation
founded on the pillars of genocide, slavery,
patriarchy, violent repression of popular
movements, savage war crimes committed to expand
the empire, and capitalist exploitation, we
choose to remember very little. This historical
amnesia, as
James Baldwin
never tired of pointing out, is very dangerous.
It feeds self-delusion. It severs us from
recognition of our propensity for violence. It
sees us project on others—almost always the
vulnerable—the unacknowledged evil that lies in
our past and our hearts. It shuts down the
voices of the oppressed, those who can tell us
who we are and enable us through self-reflection
and self-criticism to become a better people.
“History does not merely refer to the past …
history is literally present in all we do,”
Baldwin wrote.
If we understood our real past we would see as
lunacy Donald Trump’s bombastic assertions that
the removal of Confederate statues is an attack
on “our history.” Whose history is being
attacked? And is it history that is being
attacked or the myth disguised as history and
perpetuated by white supremacy and capitalism?
As the historian
Eric Foner
points out, “Public monuments are built by those
with sufficient power to determine which parts
of history are worth commemorating and what
vision of history ought to be conveyed.”
The
clash between historical myth and historical
reality is being played out in the president’s
disparaging of black athletes who protest
indiscriminate police violence against people of
color. “Maybe he should find a country that
works better for him,” candidate Trump said of
professional quarterback Colin Kaepernick, who
knelt during the national anthem at National
Football League games to protest police
violence. Other NFL players later emulated his
protest.
Friday at a political rally in Alabama,
Trump bellowed:
“Wouldn’t you love to see one of these NFL
owners, when somebody disrespects our flag, to
say, ‘Get that son of a bitch off the field
right now. Out! He’s fired. He’s fired!’ ” That
comment and
a Saturday morning tweet
by Trump that criticized professional basketball
star Stephen Curry, another athlete of
African-American descent, prompted a number of
prominent sports figures to respond angrily. One
addressed the president as “U bum”
on Twitter.
The war
of words between the president and black
athletes is about competing historical
narratives.
Historians are rewarded for buttressing the
ruling social structure, producing heavy tomes
on the ruling elites—usually powerful white men
such as John D. Rockefeller or Theodore
Roosevelt—and ignoring the underlying social
movements and radicals that have been the true
engines of cultural and political change in the
United States. Or they retreat into arcane and
irrelevant subjects of minor significance,
becoming self-appointed specialists of the banal
or the trivial. They ignore or minimize
inconvenient facts and actions that tarnish the
myth, including lethal suppression of groups,
classes and civilizations and the plethora of
lies told by the ruling elites, the mass media
and powerful institutions to justify their grip
on power. They eschew transcendental and moral
issues, including class conflict, in the name of
neutrality and objectivity. The mantra of
disinterested scholarship and the obsession with
data collection add up, as the historian
Howard Zinn
wrote, “to the fear that using our intelligence
to further our moral ends is somehow improper.”
“Objectivity is an interesting and often
misunderstood word,” Foner said. “I tell my
students what objectivity means is you have an
open mind, not an empty mind. There is no person
who doesn’t have preconceptions, values,
assumptions. And you bring those to the study of
history. What it means to be objective is if you
begin encountering evidence, research, that
questions some of your assumptions, you may have
to change your mind. You have to have an open
mind in your encounters with the evidence. But
that doesn’t mean you don’t take a stance. You
have an obligation. If you’ve done all this
studying, done all this research, if you
understand key issues in American history better
than most people, just because you’ve done the
research and they haven’t, you have an
obligation as a citizen to speak up about it.
…We should not be bystanders. We should be
active citizens. Being a historian and an active
citizen is not mutually contradictory.”
Historians who apologize for the power elites,
who in essence shun complexity and minimize
inconvenient truths, are rewarded and promoted.
They receive tenure, large book contracts,
generous research grants, lucrative speaking
engagements and prizes. Truth tellers, such as
Zinn, are marginalized.
Friedrich Nietzsche
calls this process “creative forgetfulness.”
“In
high school,” Foner said, “I got a history
textbook that said ‘Story of American History,’
which was very one-dimensional. It was all about
the rise of freedom and liberty. Slavery was
omitted almost entirely. The general plight of
African-Americans and other non-whites was
pretty much omitted from this story. It was very
partial. It was very limited. That’s the same
thing with all these statues and [the debate
about them]. I’m not saying we should tear down
every single statue of every Confederate all
over the place. But if we step back and look at
the public presentation of history, particularly
in the South, through these monuments, where are
the black people of the South? Where are the
monuments to the victims of slavery? To the
victims of lynching? The monuments of the black
leaders of Reconstruction? The first black
senators and members of Congress? My view is, as
well as taking down some statues, we need to put
up others. If we want to have a public
commemoration of history, it ought to be diverse
enough to include the whole history, not just
the history that those in power want us to
remember.”
“Civil
War monuments glorify soldiers and generals who
fought for Southern independence,” Foner writes
in “Battles for Freedom: The Use and Abuse of
American History,” “explaining their motivation
by reference to the ideals of freedom, states’
rights and individual autonomy—everything, that
is but slavery, the ‘cornerstone of the
Confederacy,’ according to its vice president,
Alexander Stephens. Fort Mill, South Carolina,
has a marker honoring the ‘faithful slaves’ of
the Confederate states, but one would be hard
pressed to find monuments anywhere in the
country to slave rebels like Denmark Vesey and
Nat Turner, to the 200,000 black soldiers and
sailors who fought for the Union (or, for that
matter, the thousands of white Southerners who
remained loyal to the nation).”
The United Daughters of the Confederacy, as
Loewen points out, erected most of the South’s
Confederate monuments between 1890 and 1920.
This campaign of commemoration was part of what
Foner calls “a conscious effort to glorify and
sanitize the Confederate cause and legitimize
the newly installed
Jim Crow system.”
Gen.
Nathan Bedford Forrest, who Loewen writes was
“one of the most vicious racists in American
history,” was one of the South’s biggest slave
traders, commander of the forces that massacred
black Union troops after they surrendered at
Fort Pillow and the founder of the Ku Klux Klan.
Yet, as Foner notes, “there are more statues,
markers and busts of Forrest in Tennessee than
of any other figure in the state’s history,
including President Andrew Jackson.”
“Only
one transgression was sufficiently outrageous to
disqualify Confederate leaders from the pantheon
of heroes,” Foner writes. “No statue of James
Longstreet, a far abler commander than Forrest,
graces the Southern countryside, and Gen. James
Fleming Fagan is omitted from the portrait
gallery of famous figures of Arkansas history in
Little Rock. Their crime? Both supported black
rights during Reconstruction.”
The
American myth also relies heavily on a distorted
history of the westward expansion.
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“The
mythology of the West is deeply rooted in our
culture,” Foner said, “whether it’s in Western
movies or the idea of the lone pioneer, the
individual roughing it out in the West, and of
course, the main lie is that the West was kind
of empty before white settlers and hunters and
trappers and farmers came from the East to
settle it. In fact, the West has been populated
since forever. The real story of the West is the
clash of all these different peoples, Native
Americans, Asians in California, settlers coming
in from the East, Mexicans. The West was a very
multicultural place. There are a lot of
histories there. Many of those histories are
ignored or subordinated in this one story of the
westward movement.”
“Racism is certainly a part of Western history,”
Foner said. “But you’re not going to get that
from a John Wayne movie [or] the paintings by
[Frederic] Remington
and others. It’s a history that doesn’t help you
understand the present.”
Remington’s racism, displayed in paintings of
noble white settlers and cowboys battling
“savages,” was pronounced.
“Jews—inguns—chinamen—Italians—Huns,” he wrote,
were “the rubbish of the earth I hate.” In the
same letter he added, “I’ve got some Winchesters
and when the massacreing begins … I can get my
share of ’em and whats more I will.”
Nietzsche identified three approaches to
history: monumental, antiquarian and critical,
the last being “the history that judges and
condemns.”
“The
monumental is the history that glorifies the
nation-state that is represented in monuments
that do not question anything about the
society,” Foner said. “A lot of history is like
that. The rise of history as a discipline
coincided with the rise of the nation-state.
Every nation needs a set of myths to justify its
own existence. Another one of my favorite
writers, Ernest Renan, the French historian,
wrote, ‘The historian is the enemy of the
nation.’ It’s an interesting thing to say. He
doesn’t mean they’re spies or anything. The
historian comes along and takes apart the
mythologies that are helping to underpin the
legitimacy of the nation. That’s why people
don’t like them very often. They don’t want to
hear these things. Antiquarian is what a lot of
people are. That’s fine. They’re looking for
their personal roots, their family history.
They’re going on ancestry.com to find out where
their DNA came from. That’s not really history
exactly. They don’t have much of a historical
context. But it stimulates people to think about
the past. Then there’s what Nietzsche calls
critical history—the history that judges and
condemns. It takes a moral stance. It doesn’t
just relate the facts. It tells you what is good
and what is evil. A lot of historians don’t like
to do that. But to me, it’s important. It’s
important for the historian, having done the
research, having presented the history, to say
here’s where I stand in relation to all these
important issues in our history.”
“Whether it’s Frederick Douglass,
Eugene Debs,
Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Martin Luther King Jr.,
those are the people who were trying to make
America a better place,” Foner said. “King, in
particular, was a very radical guy.”
Yet, as
Foner points out, King is effectively “frozen in
one speech, one sentence: I want my children to
be judged by the content of their character, not
just the color of their skin. [But] that’s not
what the whole civil rights movement was about.
People forget, he died leading a poor people’s
march, leading a strike of sanitation workers.
He wasn’t just out there talking about civil
rights. He had moved to economic equality as a
fundamental issue.”
Max Weber
wrote, “What is possible would never have been
achieved if, in this world, people had not
repeatedly reached for the impossible.”
Foner,
like Weber, argues that it is the visionaries
and utopian reformers such as Debs and the
abolitionists who brought about real social
change, not the “practical” politicians. The
abolitionists destroyed what Foner calls the
“conspiracy of silence by which political
parties, churches and other institutions sought
to exclude slavery from public debate.” He
writes:
For
much of the 1850s and the first two years of
the Civil War, Lincoln—widely considered the
model of a pragmatic politician—advocated a
plan to end slavery that involved gradual
emancipation, monetary compensation for
slaver owners, and setting up colonies of
freed blacks outside the United States. The
harebrained scheme had no possibility of
enactment. It was the abolitionists, still
viewed by some historians as irresponsible
fanatics, who put forward the program—an
immediate and uncompensated end to slavery,
with black people becoming US citizens—that
came to pass (with Lincoln’s eventual help,
of course).
The
political squabbles that dominate public
discourse almost never question the sanctity of
private property, individualism, capitalism or
imperialism. They hold as sacrosanct American
“virtues.” They insist that Americans are a
“good” people steadily overcoming any prejudices
and injustices that may have occurred in the
past. The debates between the Democrats and the
Whigs, or today’s Republicans and Democrats,
have roots in the same allegiance to the
dominant structures of power, myth of American
exceptionalism and white supremacy.
“It’s
all a family quarrel without any genuine,
serious disagreements,” Foner said.
Those
who challenge these structures, who reach for
the impossible, who dare to speak the truth,
have been, throughout American history,
dismissed as “fanatics.” But, as Foner points
out, it is often the “fanatics” who make
history.