Benjamin A. Railton's Blog, page 395
February 1, 2013
February 1, 2013: Football in America, Part Four
[In this week leading up to Super Bowl 47—that’s XLVII if you prefer how long-dead Romans would have referred to it—I’ll be highlighting some AmericanStudies issues and questions related to football in our past and present. Your Super responses, thoughts, and perspectives very welcome for a weekend post that’s sure to be a touchdown!]
On a few different ways to AmericanStudy football’s place in the Lone Star State.High school football has apparently been huge in Texas for a good long while, but the last couple decades have seen some high-profile cultural representations of Texas high school football and thus brought it to more mainstream attention. The trends goes back at least to the films Varsity Blues (1999) and Friday Night Lights (2004), although it can be taken back nearly a decade earlier to the best-selling 1990 Buzz Bissinger book on which the latter was based. And it certainly achieved another level of popular prominence during the five-season run of the cult favorite and award-winning televison show, also titled Friday Night Lights (2006-2011). In their own ways, each of these cultural texts reveals the appeal of big-time high school football: combining the thrill of sports played at a high level with the universal and complex realities of teenage and family life, the possibility of heroism (there’s a reason why “My Hero” was the theme song of Varsity Blues) with the realities and challenges of everyday existence.So I get why high school football strikes a chord, and thus why stories of the state where it’s particularly huge are compelling for American audiences. But Texas high school football is also emblematic of a significant national problem with priorities: that we’ve come to support educational athletics (at the high school and collegiate levels) more and more at the same time that we’re defunding and cutting and generally failing to support education in every other way. There are plenty of details and stories that symbolize those (at least) mixed-up educational priorities, but I’ve never encountered a more striking one than the $60 million high school football stadium at Allen High in Texas. No, that’s not a typo—this venue for high school athletics—for one high school sport—cost $60 million in public funds, money that, to quote that ESPN.com story, the school district “know[s] full well it will never recoup.” Frankly, the public funding element, aggravating as it is (although the bond measure did receive 60% approval—they do love their high school football in Texas, apparently), isn’t even the issue here—even if the $60 million were all private donations, I would say exactly the same thing: take the money, thank everybody very much, and then build a $5 million dollar stadium and use the remaining $55 million for public high schools throughout the state. Maybe that’s not legal, but it’s sure as hell logical.So I get the allure of Texas high school football, and am at the same time very frustrated by what it means in our contemporary society and moment. There’s at least one more American layer to this onion, though, and it’s probably the most complicated and double-edged of them all. On the one hand, high school football, like all sports but perhaps more than most (and certainly more than professional sports), has the potential to bring a community together, to offer unifying hope and possibility even in particularly dark and difficult times (such as ours). Yet on the other hand, while high school sports can seem to offer such hope and possibility for the individuals who take part in them, I would argue that in many (indeed, most) individual cases those things are alluring, promises of potential futures that will never come true and can instead keep the individual from focus on his or her more definite and significant next steps. (Cf. Hoop Dreams .) So is Texas high school football a source of hope or an illusion of it? Does it serve important communal and national purposes, or does it distract and take away from what we should be doing and focusing on? As is so often the case with the questions I focus on here, the answer, confusingly but critically, is yes on all counts.Crowd-sourced Super Bowl this weekend,BenPS. So help make that Bowl Super! Share your thoughts on any of these posts and any other aspects of football (or sports) in America, please!
On a few different ways to AmericanStudy football’s place in the Lone Star State.High school football has apparently been huge in Texas for a good long while, but the last couple decades have seen some high-profile cultural representations of Texas high school football and thus brought it to more mainstream attention. The trends goes back at least to the films Varsity Blues (1999) and Friday Night Lights (2004), although it can be taken back nearly a decade earlier to the best-selling 1990 Buzz Bissinger book on which the latter was based. And it certainly achieved another level of popular prominence during the five-season run of the cult favorite and award-winning televison show, also titled Friday Night Lights (2006-2011). In their own ways, each of these cultural texts reveals the appeal of big-time high school football: combining the thrill of sports played at a high level with the universal and complex realities of teenage and family life, the possibility of heroism (there’s a reason why “My Hero” was the theme song of Varsity Blues) with the realities and challenges of everyday existence.So I get why high school football strikes a chord, and thus why stories of the state where it’s particularly huge are compelling for American audiences. But Texas high school football is also emblematic of a significant national problem with priorities: that we’ve come to support educational athletics (at the high school and collegiate levels) more and more at the same time that we’re defunding and cutting and generally failing to support education in every other way. There are plenty of details and stories that symbolize those (at least) mixed-up educational priorities, but I’ve never encountered a more striking one than the $60 million high school football stadium at Allen High in Texas. No, that’s not a typo—this venue for high school athletics—for one high school sport—cost $60 million in public funds, money that, to quote that ESPN.com story, the school district “know[s] full well it will never recoup.” Frankly, the public funding element, aggravating as it is (although the bond measure did receive 60% approval—they do love their high school football in Texas, apparently), isn’t even the issue here—even if the $60 million were all private donations, I would say exactly the same thing: take the money, thank everybody very much, and then build a $5 million dollar stadium and use the remaining $55 million for public high schools throughout the state. Maybe that’s not legal, but it’s sure as hell logical.So I get the allure of Texas high school football, and am at the same time very frustrated by what it means in our contemporary society and moment. There’s at least one more American layer to this onion, though, and it’s probably the most complicated and double-edged of them all. On the one hand, high school football, like all sports but perhaps more than most (and certainly more than professional sports), has the potential to bring a community together, to offer unifying hope and possibility even in particularly dark and difficult times (such as ours). Yet on the other hand, while high school sports can seem to offer such hope and possibility for the individuals who take part in them, I would argue that in many (indeed, most) individual cases those things are alluring, promises of potential futures that will never come true and can instead keep the individual from focus on his or her more definite and significant next steps. (Cf. Hoop Dreams .) So is Texas high school football a source of hope or an illusion of it? Does it serve important communal and national purposes, or does it distract and take away from what we should be doing and focusing on? As is so often the case with the questions I focus on here, the answer, confusingly but critically, is yes on all counts.Crowd-sourced Super Bowl this weekend,BenPS. So help make that Bowl Super! Share your thoughts on any of these posts and any other aspects of football (or sports) in America, please!
Published on February 01, 2013 03:00
January 31, 2013
January 31, 2013: January 2013 Recap
[The football-inspired series concludes tomorrow, but today, here’s a recap of the month that was in AmericanStudying.]
January 1: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: Climate Change: A series for the new year starts with how AmericanStudies can help us respond to our most serious ongoing issue.January 2: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: The Debt: The series continues with a post on the histories and narratives of debt in America.January 3: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: Education Reform: A post on how inspiring American figures and stories can help us emphasize what’s most important in education reform.January 4: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: Poverty and Inequality: The series concludes with a post on issues we AmericanStudiers (and Americans) don’t like to talk about—but need to.January 5-6: Crowd-sourcing Our Biggest Issues: A space where you can share your own thoughts on AmericanStudying our biggest issues.January 7: American Homes, Part One: A series on American homes kicks off with Cooper and promise and perils of returning home after years away.January 8: American Homes, Part Two: On Stephen Foster’s fake and troubling yet nostalgic and compelling musical images of home.January 9: American Homes, Part Three: The series continues with a post on the dark, cynical, and human portrayals of home in two Robert Frost poems.January 10: American Homes, Part Four: The layers of American meaning to Home Alone, as the series rolls on.January 11: American Homes, Part Five: The series concludes with a Guest Post from a colleague and one of the best scholars of American homes, Elif Armbruster.January 12: Crowd-sourcing American Homes: A couple responses to the week’s series and posts—add yours, please!January 13: Lincoln Redux: Having finally seen Spielberg’s historical film, I share a few AmericanStudier responses to its limitations and achievements.January 14: Back to School Hopes, Part One: Three ways I hope digital resources can contribute to my American Lit surveys, as a series on spring hopes kicks off.January 15: Back to School Hopes, Part Two: The series continues with a post on the inspirations I’ve received, and hope to receive again, from my Ethnic American Literature student projects.January 16: Back to School Hopes, Part Three: On my expectations for my own work with graduating English Majors in our senior Capstone course.January 17: Back to School Hopes, Part Four: Recent and ongoing changes to our profession and how our department continues to evolve as well, as the series rolls on.January 18: Back to School Hopes, Part Five: The series concludes with my longer-term hopes and ideals for adjunct faculty members, in our department and around the world of academia.January 19-20: Crowd-sourcing Back to School Hopes: A couple responses and Retweets of the week’s posts and themes—add your spring hopes please!January 21: The Real King: My annual Martin Luther King, Jr., Day post!January 22: Second Terms: George Washington: An Inauguration week series on second terms begins with the precedents set by our first president and first second term.January 23: Second Terms: Abraham Lincoln: Some of the best and worst elements of our most tragically abbreviated second term.January 24: Second Terms: Woodrow Wilson: The series continues with a post on some of the worst sides (in my opinion!) to Wilson’s controversial second term.January 25: Second Terms: The Runner Ups: A handful of briefer takes on other interesting American second terms.January 26-27: Crowd-sourcing Second Terms: An important response to my Wilson post. Add your takes on presidential second terms, present and past, won’t you?January 28: Football in America, Part One: A Super Bowl-inspired series begins with a post on Rob Parker, RGIII, and race in America!January 29: Football in America, Part Two: The series continues with a post on PEDs, cheating to win, and the American way.January 30: Football in America, Part Three: The American resonances of Jim Brown and Barry Sanders, as the series rolls on.Football series concludes tomorrow,BenPS. Thoughts on American stories, histories, or connections related to football (or other sports)? You can still share ‘em for the weekend post!
January 1: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: Climate Change: A series for the new year starts with how AmericanStudies can help us respond to our most serious ongoing issue.January 2: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: The Debt: The series continues with a post on the histories and narratives of debt in America.January 3: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: Education Reform: A post on how inspiring American figures and stories can help us emphasize what’s most important in education reform.January 4: AmericanStudying Our Biggest Issues: Poverty and Inequality: The series concludes with a post on issues we AmericanStudiers (and Americans) don’t like to talk about—but need to.January 5-6: Crowd-sourcing Our Biggest Issues: A space where you can share your own thoughts on AmericanStudying our biggest issues.January 7: American Homes, Part One: A series on American homes kicks off with Cooper and promise and perils of returning home after years away.January 8: American Homes, Part Two: On Stephen Foster’s fake and troubling yet nostalgic and compelling musical images of home.January 9: American Homes, Part Three: The series continues with a post on the dark, cynical, and human portrayals of home in two Robert Frost poems.January 10: American Homes, Part Four: The layers of American meaning to Home Alone, as the series rolls on.January 11: American Homes, Part Five: The series concludes with a Guest Post from a colleague and one of the best scholars of American homes, Elif Armbruster.January 12: Crowd-sourcing American Homes: A couple responses to the week’s series and posts—add yours, please!January 13: Lincoln Redux: Having finally seen Spielberg’s historical film, I share a few AmericanStudier responses to its limitations and achievements.January 14: Back to School Hopes, Part One: Three ways I hope digital resources can contribute to my American Lit surveys, as a series on spring hopes kicks off.January 15: Back to School Hopes, Part Two: The series continues with a post on the inspirations I’ve received, and hope to receive again, from my Ethnic American Literature student projects.January 16: Back to School Hopes, Part Three: On my expectations for my own work with graduating English Majors in our senior Capstone course.January 17: Back to School Hopes, Part Four: Recent and ongoing changes to our profession and how our department continues to evolve as well, as the series rolls on.January 18: Back to School Hopes, Part Five: The series concludes with my longer-term hopes and ideals for adjunct faculty members, in our department and around the world of academia.January 19-20: Crowd-sourcing Back to School Hopes: A couple responses and Retweets of the week’s posts and themes—add your spring hopes please!January 21: The Real King: My annual Martin Luther King, Jr., Day post!January 22: Second Terms: George Washington: An Inauguration week series on second terms begins with the precedents set by our first president and first second term.January 23: Second Terms: Abraham Lincoln: Some of the best and worst elements of our most tragically abbreviated second term.January 24: Second Terms: Woodrow Wilson: The series continues with a post on some of the worst sides (in my opinion!) to Wilson’s controversial second term.January 25: Second Terms: The Runner Ups: A handful of briefer takes on other interesting American second terms.January 26-27: Crowd-sourcing Second Terms: An important response to my Wilson post. Add your takes on presidential second terms, present and past, won’t you?January 28: Football in America, Part One: A Super Bowl-inspired series begins with a post on Rob Parker, RGIII, and race in America!January 29: Football in America, Part Two: The series continues with a post on PEDs, cheating to win, and the American way.January 30: Football in America, Part Three: The American resonances of Jim Brown and Barry Sanders, as the series rolls on.Football series concludes tomorrow,BenPS. Thoughts on American stories, histories, or connections related to football (or other sports)? You can still share ‘em for the weekend post!
Published on January 31, 2013 03:00
January 30, 2013
January 30, 2013: Football in America, Part Three
[In this week leading up to Super Bowl 47—that’s XLVII if you prefer how long-dead Romans would have referred to it—I’ll be highlighting some AmericanStudies issues and questions related to football in our past and present. Your Super responses, thoughts, and perspectives very welcome for a weekend post that’s sure to be a touchdown!]
On the parallel yet very distinct ways in which two of all-time greats left the game—and the American resonances of each.When Jim Brown unexpectedly retired in the summer of 1966, after nine seasons with the Cleveland Browns, he left football as the undisputed greatest running back in the league’s history, with numerous league records (including the career yardage mark) under his belt. Thirty-three years later, in the summer of 1999, Barry Sanders announcement his just as unexpected retirement; in his ten seasons with the Detroit Lions, Sanders had threatened numerous records of his own (he retired less than 1500 yards behind the all-time mark), and had struck many observers as the greatest running back since Brown. Yet despite these similarities, the circumstances of the players’ retirements were also hugely different: Brown retired due to conflicts with his burgeoning acting career, which he would pursue for the next few decades, remaining in the public eye throughout; Sanders refused to discuss the reasons for his retirement, and largely disappeared from the spotlight thereafter.It’s impossible, and probably irresponsible, to speculate at length about the reasons why anyone makes the choices in his or her life, and I don’t pretend to have any special knowledge about either of these particular men or cases. But given the particular circumstances and details that we do know of each, I would say that Brown came to feel that he was bigger or more multi-faceted than the sport, and no longer wanted to be contained by its limits (such as the training camp restrictions from Browns owner Art Modell that specifically precipitated his retirement); and that Sanders, on the other hand, seems to have felt that the sport and its various attendant effects and issues were bigger or more drainingthan he was willing to deal with. I’m sure that there were multiple factors in each case, and I don’t mean to critique either man in any way; instead, I highlight these particular frames as they have interesting resonances with other talented American figures.When it comes to Sanders, I can think of various famous Americans who seem to have suddenly decided (while still at their prime) that the demands of their respective worlds were intolerable and to have withdrawn from those worlds; perhaps the most extreme example would have to be J.D. Salinger. After the mega-success of The Catcher in the Rye (1951), Salinger withdrew entirely from public life and mostly from publishing; his last published story appeared in 1965, 45 years before his 2010 death. Brown, on the other hand, reminds me of those talented but fickle Americans who abandon established success in one field to pursue an entirely different one, perhaps to prove to the world or themselves that they can do so; the most common contemporary moves seem to be between the worlds of acting and music, but perhaps even more complicatedly and compellingly American are those celebrities who decide to pursue a career in politics and public service, particularly those who do so at the height of success. If Ben Affleck had chosen to run for John Kerry’s Massachusetts Senate seat, he’d have been simply the latest in that long and interesting American line.Next gridiron-inspired topic tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on Brown, Sanders, or these broader themes? Other football and America stories or themes you’d highlight?
On the parallel yet very distinct ways in which two of all-time greats left the game—and the American resonances of each.When Jim Brown unexpectedly retired in the summer of 1966, after nine seasons with the Cleveland Browns, he left football as the undisputed greatest running back in the league’s history, with numerous league records (including the career yardage mark) under his belt. Thirty-three years later, in the summer of 1999, Barry Sanders announcement his just as unexpected retirement; in his ten seasons with the Detroit Lions, Sanders had threatened numerous records of his own (he retired less than 1500 yards behind the all-time mark), and had struck many observers as the greatest running back since Brown. Yet despite these similarities, the circumstances of the players’ retirements were also hugely different: Brown retired due to conflicts with his burgeoning acting career, which he would pursue for the next few decades, remaining in the public eye throughout; Sanders refused to discuss the reasons for his retirement, and largely disappeared from the spotlight thereafter.It’s impossible, and probably irresponsible, to speculate at length about the reasons why anyone makes the choices in his or her life, and I don’t pretend to have any special knowledge about either of these particular men or cases. But given the particular circumstances and details that we do know of each, I would say that Brown came to feel that he was bigger or more multi-faceted than the sport, and no longer wanted to be contained by its limits (such as the training camp restrictions from Browns owner Art Modell that specifically precipitated his retirement); and that Sanders, on the other hand, seems to have felt that the sport and its various attendant effects and issues were bigger or more drainingthan he was willing to deal with. I’m sure that there were multiple factors in each case, and I don’t mean to critique either man in any way; instead, I highlight these particular frames as they have interesting resonances with other talented American figures.When it comes to Sanders, I can think of various famous Americans who seem to have suddenly decided (while still at their prime) that the demands of their respective worlds were intolerable and to have withdrawn from those worlds; perhaps the most extreme example would have to be J.D. Salinger. After the mega-success of The Catcher in the Rye (1951), Salinger withdrew entirely from public life and mostly from publishing; his last published story appeared in 1965, 45 years before his 2010 death. Brown, on the other hand, reminds me of those talented but fickle Americans who abandon established success in one field to pursue an entirely different one, perhaps to prove to the world or themselves that they can do so; the most common contemporary moves seem to be between the worlds of acting and music, but perhaps even more complicatedly and compellingly American are those celebrities who decide to pursue a career in politics and public service, particularly those who do so at the height of success. If Ben Affleck had chosen to run for John Kerry’s Massachusetts Senate seat, he’d have been simply the latest in that long and interesting American line.Next gridiron-inspired topic tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on Brown, Sanders, or these broader themes? Other football and America stories or themes you’d highlight?
Published on January 30, 2013 03:00
January 29, 2013
January 29, 2013: Football in America, Part Two
[In this week leading up to Super Bowl 47—that’s XLVII if you prefer how long-dead Romans would have referred to it—I’ll be highlighting some AmericanStudies issues and questions related to football in our past and present. Your Super responses, thoughts, and perspectives very welcome for a weekend post that’s sure to be a touchdown!]
On cheating, winning and losing, and the American way.If one narrative has dominated the last decade in American (and international) sports, it’s been our righteous indignation about performance-enhancing drugs. From the outrage over McGwire, Sosa, Bonds, Clemens, and the Mitchell Report in baseball to the numerous suspensions in football (for everything from steroids and HGH to the current spate of Adderall suspensions), from the many stages of the Lance Armstrong saga to the seemingly constant announcements of Olympians suspended for PEDs, very few of our signature sporting events or prominent figures have been exempted from our suspicions. Given the apparently rampant PED use among college and high school athletes, I certainly understand why we’re so collectively worried about the problem, and concerned with catching and punishing professional athletes who contribute to it.As is so often the case, however, when you start to historicize the problem things get a good bit more complicated. The most common such comparison is to baseball in the 1970s, when it seems a sizeable percentage of players were on “greenies” (amphetamines) and neither the sport nor the fanbase apparently cared for many years. But beyond such specific and certainly complicating comparisons, I would also argue that the culture of American sports has long (if not always) been defined by the mentality of doing whatever it takes to win. Outraged 21st century fans like to nostalgically contrast the PED era with a golden age of sportsmanship and fair play and the like, but I’m not sure there’s ever been a moment when winning wasn’t everything, just the only thing. Pitchers, including some of the most prominent and successful in every era, have been doctoring the baseball for as long as there’s been baseball. College football’s history of cheating—from recruiting to eligibility, and of course on the field as well—has long been a part of the sport’s dominant narratives. As this article notes, the concept of basketball plays evolved directly alongside ways to get away with cheating. And the list goes on and on.Even more broadly and historically, I think it’s far from a coincidence that American professional and organized sports mostly began during and just after the late 19th century era known as the Gilded Age. After all, the self-made men and/or robber barons (depending on your perspective) who came to define that era’s successes and/or excesses (ditto) did so by taking advantage of every opportunity and/or cheating the system (likewise). As reflected in the recent debate over whether multi-millionaires like Mitt Romney who maximize their income tax deductions and loopholes embody or undermine the American Way, we haven’t moved too far away from those Gilded Age models. So is cheating to win a defining American choice, in and outside of our sports worlds? It would seem to be—but debates over and outraged responses to such choices also go way back. The more things change…Next gridiron-inspired topic tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on PEDs or these other issues? Other football and America stories or themes you’d highlight?
On cheating, winning and losing, and the American way.If one narrative has dominated the last decade in American (and international) sports, it’s been our righteous indignation about performance-enhancing drugs. From the outrage over McGwire, Sosa, Bonds, Clemens, and the Mitchell Report in baseball to the numerous suspensions in football (for everything from steroids and HGH to the current spate of Adderall suspensions), from the many stages of the Lance Armstrong saga to the seemingly constant announcements of Olympians suspended for PEDs, very few of our signature sporting events or prominent figures have been exempted from our suspicions. Given the apparently rampant PED use among college and high school athletes, I certainly understand why we’re so collectively worried about the problem, and concerned with catching and punishing professional athletes who contribute to it.As is so often the case, however, when you start to historicize the problem things get a good bit more complicated. The most common such comparison is to baseball in the 1970s, when it seems a sizeable percentage of players were on “greenies” (amphetamines) and neither the sport nor the fanbase apparently cared for many years. But beyond such specific and certainly complicating comparisons, I would also argue that the culture of American sports has long (if not always) been defined by the mentality of doing whatever it takes to win. Outraged 21st century fans like to nostalgically contrast the PED era with a golden age of sportsmanship and fair play and the like, but I’m not sure there’s ever been a moment when winning wasn’t everything, just the only thing. Pitchers, including some of the most prominent and successful in every era, have been doctoring the baseball for as long as there’s been baseball. College football’s history of cheating—from recruiting to eligibility, and of course on the field as well—has long been a part of the sport’s dominant narratives. As this article notes, the concept of basketball plays evolved directly alongside ways to get away with cheating. And the list goes on and on.Even more broadly and historically, I think it’s far from a coincidence that American professional and organized sports mostly began during and just after the late 19th century era known as the Gilded Age. After all, the self-made men and/or robber barons (depending on your perspective) who came to define that era’s successes and/or excesses (ditto) did so by taking advantage of every opportunity and/or cheating the system (likewise). As reflected in the recent debate over whether multi-millionaires like Mitt Romney who maximize their income tax deductions and loopholes embody or undermine the American Way, we haven’t moved too far away from those Gilded Age models. So is cheating to win a defining American choice, in and outside of our sports worlds? It would seem to be—but debates over and outraged responses to such choices also go way back. The more things change…Next gridiron-inspired topic tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on PEDs or these other issues? Other football and America stories or themes you’d highlight?
Published on January 29, 2013 03:00
January 28, 2013
January 28, 2013: Football in America, Part One
[In this week leading up to Super Bowl 47—that’s XLVII if you prefer how long-dead Romans would have referred to it—I’ll be highlighting some AmericanStudies issues and questions related to football in our past and present. Your Super responses, thoughts, and perspectives very welcome for a weekend post that’s sure to be a touchdown!]
On the longstanding historical debates that provide some important contexts for Rob Parker’s controversial recent critique of Robert Griffin III.It’s easy, in our era of 24-hour news cycles and instant internet tempests in tea pots and the like, to get over-excited about the latest shocking or scandalous comments. But even in a quieter age, sports journalist Rob Parker’s December 13th remarks about Washington Redskins rookie quarterback Robert Griffin III would likely have raised quite a stir. Appearing on ESPN’s “First Take” morning talk show, Parker called into question Griffin’s authentic blackness, asking whether he’s “one of us” (Parker is also African American) or instead a “cornball brother,” and pointing to (among other things) his white fiance, his rumored affiliation with the Republican Party, and his general attitude toward the idea of the “black quarterback.” The comments were unsurprisingly greeted by an uproar, and have led to Parker’s 30-day suspension from all ESPN programming. Just another silly ESPN controversy over race and quarterbacking, right Rush?Certainly it is that; but Parker’s critique also relates to a long and complex set of narratives and debates in the African American community. In his 1903 essay “The Talented Tenth,” W.E.B. Du Bois argued that a cadre of impressive African American leaders would play a vital role in uplifting the community and race as a whole; that, as his striking first sentence put it most succinctly (in the gendered language of the day), “The Negro race, like all races, is going to be saved by its exceptional men.” Du Bois was referring specifically to the need for higher education, an idea he would further develop in the same year in “Of the Training of Black Men” (a chapter from the seminal The Souls of Black Folk ). But he was also making a broader and more complex case: that a subset of highly successful, and highly visible, members of a particular community can improve, if not the conditions for all others members of that community (and certainly the ideal is that they will work to do so in one way or another), at least the external society’s narratives and perceptions of that group.Each part of that case, or at least of my framing of it within that sentence (as always with Du Bois, his dense and layered ideas deserve their own reading), is fraught with potential controversy and debate. Do successful members of a community in fact owe it to their community to work for its general well-being? (This is what Parker was implying, for example, when he said of Griffin that he might not be “down with the cause.”) Regardless, does their success change society’s views of their community? Can it? Should it? If it should and yet doesn’t, is that their fault, the society’s, nobody’s, everybody’s? These questions, as applied specifically to African Americans, were debated in Du Bois’s era, continued to be throughout the 20thcentury (with Du Bois himself revising his position in a 1948 speech), and are no less—and perhaps even more—significant in the age of Obama. They are also relevant, if distinct and worth separate analysis to be sure, to arguments over whether Asian Americans are a “model minority,” what that status would entail, what effects such narratives have on young Asian Americans, and so on. Which is to say, Rob Parker might have created a tempest in a teapot, but there’s a lot of historical and contemporary value to continuing to talk after the storm dies down.Next gridiron-inspired topic tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on Parker, Griffin, or these other issues? Other football and America stories or themes you’d highlight?
On the longstanding historical debates that provide some important contexts for Rob Parker’s controversial recent critique of Robert Griffin III.It’s easy, in our era of 24-hour news cycles and instant internet tempests in tea pots and the like, to get over-excited about the latest shocking or scandalous comments. But even in a quieter age, sports journalist Rob Parker’s December 13th remarks about Washington Redskins rookie quarterback Robert Griffin III would likely have raised quite a stir. Appearing on ESPN’s “First Take” morning talk show, Parker called into question Griffin’s authentic blackness, asking whether he’s “one of us” (Parker is also African American) or instead a “cornball brother,” and pointing to (among other things) his white fiance, his rumored affiliation with the Republican Party, and his general attitude toward the idea of the “black quarterback.” The comments were unsurprisingly greeted by an uproar, and have led to Parker’s 30-day suspension from all ESPN programming. Just another silly ESPN controversy over race and quarterbacking, right Rush?Certainly it is that; but Parker’s critique also relates to a long and complex set of narratives and debates in the African American community. In his 1903 essay “The Talented Tenth,” W.E.B. Du Bois argued that a cadre of impressive African American leaders would play a vital role in uplifting the community and race as a whole; that, as his striking first sentence put it most succinctly (in the gendered language of the day), “The Negro race, like all races, is going to be saved by its exceptional men.” Du Bois was referring specifically to the need for higher education, an idea he would further develop in the same year in “Of the Training of Black Men” (a chapter from the seminal The Souls of Black Folk ). But he was also making a broader and more complex case: that a subset of highly successful, and highly visible, members of a particular community can improve, if not the conditions for all others members of that community (and certainly the ideal is that they will work to do so in one way or another), at least the external society’s narratives and perceptions of that group.Each part of that case, or at least of my framing of it within that sentence (as always with Du Bois, his dense and layered ideas deserve their own reading), is fraught with potential controversy and debate. Do successful members of a community in fact owe it to their community to work for its general well-being? (This is what Parker was implying, for example, when he said of Griffin that he might not be “down with the cause.”) Regardless, does their success change society’s views of their community? Can it? Should it? If it should and yet doesn’t, is that their fault, the society’s, nobody’s, everybody’s? These questions, as applied specifically to African Americans, were debated in Du Bois’s era, continued to be throughout the 20thcentury (with Du Bois himself revising his position in a 1948 speech), and are no less—and perhaps even more—significant in the age of Obama. They are also relevant, if distinct and worth separate analysis to be sure, to arguments over whether Asian Americans are a “model minority,” what that status would entail, what effects such narratives have on young Asian Americans, and so on. Which is to say, Rob Parker might have created a tempest in a teapot, but there’s a lot of historical and contemporary value to continuing to talk after the storm dies down.Next gridiron-inspired topic tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on Parker, Griffin, or these other issues? Other football and America stories or themes you’d highlight?
Published on January 28, 2013 03:00
January 26, 2013
January 26-27, 2013: Crowd-Sourcing Second Terms
[With Monday’s Inauguration Day, Barack Obama begins his second term as President. So this week I’ve highlighted some interesting second term moments and issues from American history. As always, this crowd-sourced post on all things second terms and presidencies is drawn from the responses and thoughts of fellow AmericanStudiers—add yours, please!]Following up the Woodrow Wilson post, Maggi Smith-Dalton writes, “Ok. Woodrow Wilson DOES get a bad rap. Disclaimer up front: he is one of my favorite Presidents, because of his complexity and yet...because of a certain attractive simplicity in his worldview--which envisioned a world of justice and peace. One must always take into account his personal AND historical context vis a vis being the first Southern president elected since the end of the Civil War, and the fact his formative memories included the landscape of southern devastation. That he was a prisoner of his personal and historical time in terms of race relations (or with ferreting out the "Reds") is of course not laudable, but it is also not unusual nor is it beyond understanding. Civil liberties of US citizens have been violated repeatedly by governing bodies and Presidents great and mediocre since the establishment of government. As for the war involvement...well...that is far too complex a subject to address here in nuanced argument but my bottom line is that I respectfully object to the argument that hypocrisy entered into his decision to go to war. Furthermore.... Faults or not, mistakes or not, in my opinion he waged a heartbreaking, admirable, and difficult subsequent campaign to bring people to the table with words rather than swords, and his very failure to bring the US into the League of Nations nevertheless laid the seeds which saw fruition later in the establishment of the UN. Such is often the case in human endeavor...like a garden plant, death must occur to nourish the soil for new plants to thrive. I have way more to say here but suffice to say I do not see Wilson's second term as a failure. And as an addendum, I truly believe his illness had much to do with the sorrows of this term, more than a failure of character or political will.” Next series starts Monday,BenPS. What do you think? Interesting second term and/or presidential highlights you’d share?
Published on January 26, 2013 03:00
January 25, 2013
January 25, 2013: Second Terms: The Runner-Ups
[With Monday’s Inauguration Day, Barack Obama begins his second term as President. So this week I’ll be highlighting some interesting second term moments and issues from American history. As always, your responses, thoughts, and other ideas, on Obama’s second term or any other one, will be appreciated for the crowd-sourced weekend post!]
Briefer thoughts on the second terms that almost made the cut for a full post in this week’s series.1) The Virginians: Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and James Monroe, the Virginia triumvirate who held the presidency from 1801 through 1825, each served two terms. The two biggest events of the period happened in their first terms—the Louisiana Purchase and the opening of the War of 1812—but there’s plenty of interest in the second terms: Aaron Burr’s 1807 treason trial; the Battle of New Orleans in 1814-1815; the Missouri Compromise of 1820. All worth their own posts—maybe next time, Virginians!2) Andrew Jackson: Jackson’s second term was full of high-stakes showdowns, from the Nullification Crisis that foreshadowed the Civil War and the unfolding battle between Jackson and Nicholas Biddle’s National Bank to the conflict over Indian Removal that led to the Trail of Tears. Really seems like there’s a full post in there—my bad, Old Hickory!3) Ulysses S. Grant: You might have thought that no presidential administration could top Grant’s first term for corruption, nepotism, and scandal. Then there was Grant’s second term, which proved you mistaken. Yikes, Hero of Appomattox. Yikes. 4) Late 19th/Early 20th Century Pseudo-Second-Termers: Grover Cleveland was the only president to serve two non-consecutive terms, so does he count? Then there’s William McKinley, who served less than 5 months of his second term before he was assassinated. Finally, there’s Teddy Roosevelt, who took over for McKinley, finished that term, and then was elected to another—his second? His first? I dunno. Sorry, guys, but not quite clear enough to make the cut.5) Everybody Else: Calvin Coolidge and Harry Truman are the same as TR—took over when Warren Hardingand Franklin Roosevelt died, were only elected once, missed the cut. FDR himself was elected to four terms—does he still have a second term in that case? As for Eisenhower, Nixon, Reagan, Clinton, and George W. Bush—you all were close competitors, lots of interesting late 20th and early 21stcentury trends and issues, plenty to AmericanStudy there. Sorry, dudes. Just didn’t happen.But of course there’s a great way to focus more on these second terms—add your thoughts on any or all of them for the weekend post! See you then,BenPS. You know what to do!
Briefer thoughts on the second terms that almost made the cut for a full post in this week’s series.1) The Virginians: Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and James Monroe, the Virginia triumvirate who held the presidency from 1801 through 1825, each served two terms. The two biggest events of the period happened in their first terms—the Louisiana Purchase and the opening of the War of 1812—but there’s plenty of interest in the second terms: Aaron Burr’s 1807 treason trial; the Battle of New Orleans in 1814-1815; the Missouri Compromise of 1820. All worth their own posts—maybe next time, Virginians!2) Andrew Jackson: Jackson’s second term was full of high-stakes showdowns, from the Nullification Crisis that foreshadowed the Civil War and the unfolding battle between Jackson and Nicholas Biddle’s National Bank to the conflict over Indian Removal that led to the Trail of Tears. Really seems like there’s a full post in there—my bad, Old Hickory!3) Ulysses S. Grant: You might have thought that no presidential administration could top Grant’s first term for corruption, nepotism, and scandal. Then there was Grant’s second term, which proved you mistaken. Yikes, Hero of Appomattox. Yikes. 4) Late 19th/Early 20th Century Pseudo-Second-Termers: Grover Cleveland was the only president to serve two non-consecutive terms, so does he count? Then there’s William McKinley, who served less than 5 months of his second term before he was assassinated. Finally, there’s Teddy Roosevelt, who took over for McKinley, finished that term, and then was elected to another—his second? His first? I dunno. Sorry, guys, but not quite clear enough to make the cut.5) Everybody Else: Calvin Coolidge and Harry Truman are the same as TR—took over when Warren Hardingand Franklin Roosevelt died, were only elected once, missed the cut. FDR himself was elected to four terms—does he still have a second term in that case? As for Eisenhower, Nixon, Reagan, Clinton, and George W. Bush—you all were close competitors, lots of interesting late 20th and early 21stcentury trends and issues, plenty to AmericanStudy there. Sorry, dudes. Just didn’t happen.But of course there’s a great way to focus more on these second terms—add your thoughts on any or all of them for the weekend post! See you then,BenPS. You know what to do!
Published on January 25, 2013 03:00
January 24, 2013
January 24, 2013: Second Terms: Woodrow Wilson
[With Monday’s Inauguration Day, Barack Obama begins his second term as President. So this week I’ll be highlighting some interesting second term moments and issues from American history. As always, your responses, thoughts, and other ideas, on Obama’s second term or any other one, will be appreciated for the crowd-sourced weekend post!]
On what made Wilson’s second term pretty bad—and why that’s not even close to the worst part.I nominated Woodrow Wilson for a Memory Day because, as I wrote there, I think he’s gotten a bit of a bad rap. Granted, I’m primed to defend anybody whom Glenn Beck describes as a “President You Should Hate,” and it’s true that much of what bothers Beck about Wilson—his academic background and temperament, his connections to the Progressive movement and its goals for making the federal government bigger and more responsive to Americans’ needs, his anti-war and internationalist efforts with the League of Nations—are to my mind among his best qualities and efforts instead. But I also think Wilson stands out, and looks even better, in direct contrast to his most explicit political adversaries: Teddy Roosevelt, with his uber-masculine ethos and often racist worldview; and the Republican Party of Calvin Coolidge, with its extreme laissez faire and pro-industry policies. For national political leaders of his era, Wilson was probably as good as it gets.On the other hand, it’s hard to deny that Wilson’s second term as president included two of the more troubling and even shameful elements of any presidential administration. The more famous of the two is also one of the most quick and hypocritical changes in policy in our history: having run for reeelection on a platform of neutrality with respect to World War I, and with the campaign slogan “He kept us out of war,” Wilson then decided to, well, go to war; he severed diplomatic relations with Germany less than two weeks after his inauguration, and then, addressing Congress about two months later, asked for and received a War Resolution. I’m not arguing that there wasn’t cause to go to war, nor that it was the wrong decision, necessarily; as with any international conflict, things were complicated and evolving and the U.S. may well have had little choice by 1917 but to join the war. But the simple fact is that Wilson had to know, at least by the end of the campaign, that the situation was changing and that his second term policy likely would have to follow, and so to continue running on the neutrality slogan was, at least, a deceptive and hypocritical choice (and at worst a betrayal of any and all pacifists or opponents of the war who voted for him for that reason).If his World War I policy represented a sudden and (in at least those ways) shameful shift at the start of his second term, however, the moment within that term that I’d call Wilson’s low point was unfortunately more consistent with his administration’s policies. Despite having run for office as a Progressive on race relations, Wilson had instead become the first president to segregate the federal civil service, and his record on issues and questions of race did not improve from there. But to my mind the low point came in 1919, and directly relates to the racist “race riots” that swept the nation in what came to be called the “Red Summer.” Those riots were precipitated not only by the usual racial tensions and problems, but also by a combination of racist worries about returning African American soldiers and anti-communist fears (which would lead to the Red Scare soon afterward). And Wilson played into all of those racist and xenophobic fears, noting in a White House conversation that “the American Negro returning from abroad would be our greatest medium in conveying bolshevism to America.” One of the least presidential moments I know of, and part of a pretty bad second term all the way around.Final second term tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Takes on Wilson, on Obama, or on any other president’s second term?
On what made Wilson’s second term pretty bad—and why that’s not even close to the worst part.I nominated Woodrow Wilson for a Memory Day because, as I wrote there, I think he’s gotten a bit of a bad rap. Granted, I’m primed to defend anybody whom Glenn Beck describes as a “President You Should Hate,” and it’s true that much of what bothers Beck about Wilson—his academic background and temperament, his connections to the Progressive movement and its goals for making the federal government bigger and more responsive to Americans’ needs, his anti-war and internationalist efforts with the League of Nations—are to my mind among his best qualities and efforts instead. But I also think Wilson stands out, and looks even better, in direct contrast to his most explicit political adversaries: Teddy Roosevelt, with his uber-masculine ethos and often racist worldview; and the Republican Party of Calvin Coolidge, with its extreme laissez faire and pro-industry policies. For national political leaders of his era, Wilson was probably as good as it gets.On the other hand, it’s hard to deny that Wilson’s second term as president included two of the more troubling and even shameful elements of any presidential administration. The more famous of the two is also one of the most quick and hypocritical changes in policy in our history: having run for reeelection on a platform of neutrality with respect to World War I, and with the campaign slogan “He kept us out of war,” Wilson then decided to, well, go to war; he severed diplomatic relations with Germany less than two weeks after his inauguration, and then, addressing Congress about two months later, asked for and received a War Resolution. I’m not arguing that there wasn’t cause to go to war, nor that it was the wrong decision, necessarily; as with any international conflict, things were complicated and evolving and the U.S. may well have had little choice by 1917 but to join the war. But the simple fact is that Wilson had to know, at least by the end of the campaign, that the situation was changing and that his second term policy likely would have to follow, and so to continue running on the neutrality slogan was, at least, a deceptive and hypocritical choice (and at worst a betrayal of any and all pacifists or opponents of the war who voted for him for that reason).If his World War I policy represented a sudden and (in at least those ways) shameful shift at the start of his second term, however, the moment within that term that I’d call Wilson’s low point was unfortunately more consistent with his administration’s policies. Despite having run for office as a Progressive on race relations, Wilson had instead become the first president to segregate the federal civil service, and his record on issues and questions of race did not improve from there. But to my mind the low point came in 1919, and directly relates to the racist “race riots” that swept the nation in what came to be called the “Red Summer.” Those riots were precipitated not only by the usual racial tensions and problems, but also by a combination of racist worries about returning African American soldiers and anti-communist fears (which would lead to the Red Scare soon afterward). And Wilson played into all of those racist and xenophobic fears, noting in a White House conversation that “the American Negro returning from abroad would be our greatest medium in conveying bolshevism to America.” One of the least presidential moments I know of, and part of a pretty bad second term all the way around.Final second term tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Takes on Wilson, on Obama, or on any other president’s second term?
Published on January 24, 2013 03:00
January 23, 2013
January 23, 2013: Second Terms: Abraham Lincoln
[With Monday’s Inauguration Day, Barack Obama begins his second term as President. So this week I’ll be highlighting some interesting second term moments and issues from American history. As always, your responses, thoughts, and other ideas, on Obama’s second term or any other one, will be appreciated for the crowd-sourced weekend post!]
One two things I love about how Lincoln’s second term started, and one I especially hate about how it ended.It’s not quite the Gettysburg Address, but Abraham Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address (March 4, 1865) offers its own pretty remarkable combination of brevity and power. “Little that is new could be presented,” Lincoln noted at the outset in justifying his conciseness; after four years of brutal civil war and all the public coverage, response, and damage it had brought with it, he had a point, but of course a lack of cause has never kept many American politicians from rambling on. Moreover, just as he did at Gettysburg, Lincoln packed a number of striking phrases and ideas into this 700-word speech, such as his invocation of Scripture and Christian faith to at once link and yet contrast the North and South: “Each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged.” And I don’t know that the conclusion of any American speech begins more strongly than “With malice toward none; with charity for all.”Just over a month later, on April 9th, Robert E. Lee and the Confederacy surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant and the Union at Appomattox Court House. Two days later, Lincoln delivered an impromptu speech from the White House’s front window on the prospects and his hopes for Reconstruction. The speech certainly extended the idea of charity for all, expressing Lincoln’s clear desire for a relatively magnanimous set of policies toward the former Confederate states. But it ended with one of Lincoln’s most overt and impassioned statements on behalf of African Americans, in this case an overt argument for extending the vote to African American men as quickly as possible. “The colored man,” Lincoln argued, “in seeing all united for him, is inspired with vigilance, and energy, and daring, to the same end.” For a president whose racial perspectives and politics had been complex, if consistently evolving, this moment can be seen as a high point, and in any case represented an impressively strong stand on what would become one of Reconstruction’s most contested questions.Unfortunately, Lincoln would not live to play a role in that debate or any other aspect of Reconstruction; in the audience for his April 11thspeech was actor and Southern partisan John Wilkes Booth, who three days later would assassinate Lincoln at Ford’s Theater. There is of course no shortage of reasons to mourn Lincoln’s untimely death, and to echo every word of Walt Whitman’s poetic eulogy “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.” But what I especially hate is that America was denied the chance to see a second Lincoln term, to witness the continuing evolution and (if history is any indication) growth of this unique and impressive leader. It’s easy to say that that’s partly hindsight, given the kind of leader that Andrew Johnson turned out to be, and all the other things that went wrong in the subsequent years. But honestly, even if none of that were the case, I don’t know that any AmericanStudies “What If?” would be more painful to contemplate than a full second term for Abraham Lincoln. Damn you, Booth!Next second term tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Takes on Lincoln, on Obama, or on any other president’s second term?
One two things I love about how Lincoln’s second term started, and one I especially hate about how it ended.It’s not quite the Gettysburg Address, but Abraham Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address (March 4, 1865) offers its own pretty remarkable combination of brevity and power. “Little that is new could be presented,” Lincoln noted at the outset in justifying his conciseness; after four years of brutal civil war and all the public coverage, response, and damage it had brought with it, he had a point, but of course a lack of cause has never kept many American politicians from rambling on. Moreover, just as he did at Gettysburg, Lincoln packed a number of striking phrases and ideas into this 700-word speech, such as his invocation of Scripture and Christian faith to at once link and yet contrast the North and South: “Each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged.” And I don’t know that the conclusion of any American speech begins more strongly than “With malice toward none; with charity for all.”Just over a month later, on April 9th, Robert E. Lee and the Confederacy surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant and the Union at Appomattox Court House. Two days later, Lincoln delivered an impromptu speech from the White House’s front window on the prospects and his hopes for Reconstruction. The speech certainly extended the idea of charity for all, expressing Lincoln’s clear desire for a relatively magnanimous set of policies toward the former Confederate states. But it ended with one of Lincoln’s most overt and impassioned statements on behalf of African Americans, in this case an overt argument for extending the vote to African American men as quickly as possible. “The colored man,” Lincoln argued, “in seeing all united for him, is inspired with vigilance, and energy, and daring, to the same end.” For a president whose racial perspectives and politics had been complex, if consistently evolving, this moment can be seen as a high point, and in any case represented an impressively strong stand on what would become one of Reconstruction’s most contested questions.Unfortunately, Lincoln would not live to play a role in that debate or any other aspect of Reconstruction; in the audience for his April 11thspeech was actor and Southern partisan John Wilkes Booth, who three days later would assassinate Lincoln at Ford’s Theater. There is of course no shortage of reasons to mourn Lincoln’s untimely death, and to echo every word of Walt Whitman’s poetic eulogy “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.” But what I especially hate is that America was denied the chance to see a second Lincoln term, to witness the continuing evolution and (if history is any indication) growth of this unique and impressive leader. It’s easy to say that that’s partly hindsight, given the kind of leader that Andrew Johnson turned out to be, and all the other things that went wrong in the subsequent years. But honestly, even if none of that were the case, I don’t know that any AmericanStudies “What If?” would be more painful to contemplate than a full second term for Abraham Lincoln. Damn you, Booth!Next second term tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Takes on Lincoln, on Obama, or on any other president’s second term?
Published on January 23, 2013 03:00
January 22, 2013
January 22, 2013: Second Terms: George Washington
[With Monday’s Inauguration Day, Barack Obama begins his second term as President. So this week I’ll be highlighting some interesting second term moments and issues from American history. As always, your responses, thoughts, and other ideas, on Obama’s second term or any other one, will be appreciated for the crowd-sourced weekend post!]
On three ways in which our first president’s second term set precedents for his successors.George Washington was reeelected unanimously (and unopposed) in 1792, the last time a president ran uncontested, but much of his second term was dominated by unexpected crises and scandals. That included the unfolding effects of the French Revolution and the related European wars, about which I’ll write more below; but no event was more striking and significant than the 1794 Whiskey Rebellion. Tensions had been boiling over since Washington and his Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton instituted a new whiskey excise in 1791, and came to a head three years later when a group of Pennsylvania farmers destroyed a tax inspector’s home and began armed resistance against the federal government. When diplomatic resolutions failed and Hamilton led a military force (of 13,000 militia men) against American citizens, it became clear that Washington’s honeymoon period was over; the presidency and government had become the controversial and debated entities that they have remained ever since.Striking as the Whiskey Rebellion was, it paled in comparison to the domestic rebellion across the pond, the event that dominated the world’s headlines throughout the decade: the French Revolution. That event, and the war between France and England that followed it, threw a number of unexpected twists into Washington’s presidency, including the seditious efforts of French ambassador Edmond-Charles “Citizen” Genêt, who attempted to gain popular support for the French government in direct opposition to Washington’s neutrality. But these international threats allow led Washington to strive for the kinds of ambitious successes toward which many subsequent second-term presidents have worked; in this case, that meant treaties which would strengthen America’s international relationships and make the new nation more formidable on the world stage. As would always be the case, the popular responses to those ambitious efforts were mixed: the 1795 Jay Treaty with Britain was widely condemned by the opposing Democrat-Republican Party, while the same year’s Treaty of San Lorenzo (known here as Pinckney’s Treaty) with Spain was seen as a coup for Washington. Despite these ambitious treaties, or perhaps because of the wars and threats which necessitated them, Washington was very worried about international affairs, and dwelt at length on their dangers in another precedent-setting event: his 1796 farewell address to the nation. In that lengthy text, which he did not deliver but had published in newspapers, Washington reflected on what he had learned in his eight years in office, praised the best of American life and society and warned of its worst tendencies (particularly in the form of political parties, above which the no-longer-running-for-office Washington could now safely stand), and departed the national scene with a few final words of wisdom. Given that term limits had not been established, and that Washington could have run for a third term had he chosen, this farewell address reflects a clear choice on the first president’s part, a decision to end his administration on his own terms and to do so while seeking to influence the subsequent administrations and centuries of American life. It’s fair to say that every departing president since has tried to do the same, one more way in which Washington got our traditions started.Next second term tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Takes on Washington, or any other president’s second term?
On three ways in which our first president’s second term set precedents for his successors.George Washington was reeelected unanimously (and unopposed) in 1792, the last time a president ran uncontested, but much of his second term was dominated by unexpected crises and scandals. That included the unfolding effects of the French Revolution and the related European wars, about which I’ll write more below; but no event was more striking and significant than the 1794 Whiskey Rebellion. Tensions had been boiling over since Washington and his Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton instituted a new whiskey excise in 1791, and came to a head three years later when a group of Pennsylvania farmers destroyed a tax inspector’s home and began armed resistance against the federal government. When diplomatic resolutions failed and Hamilton led a military force (of 13,000 militia men) against American citizens, it became clear that Washington’s honeymoon period was over; the presidency and government had become the controversial and debated entities that they have remained ever since.Striking as the Whiskey Rebellion was, it paled in comparison to the domestic rebellion across the pond, the event that dominated the world’s headlines throughout the decade: the French Revolution. That event, and the war between France and England that followed it, threw a number of unexpected twists into Washington’s presidency, including the seditious efforts of French ambassador Edmond-Charles “Citizen” Genêt, who attempted to gain popular support for the French government in direct opposition to Washington’s neutrality. But these international threats allow led Washington to strive for the kinds of ambitious successes toward which many subsequent second-term presidents have worked; in this case, that meant treaties which would strengthen America’s international relationships and make the new nation more formidable on the world stage. As would always be the case, the popular responses to those ambitious efforts were mixed: the 1795 Jay Treaty with Britain was widely condemned by the opposing Democrat-Republican Party, while the same year’s Treaty of San Lorenzo (known here as Pinckney’s Treaty) with Spain was seen as a coup for Washington. Despite these ambitious treaties, or perhaps because of the wars and threats which necessitated them, Washington was very worried about international affairs, and dwelt at length on their dangers in another precedent-setting event: his 1796 farewell address to the nation. In that lengthy text, which he did not deliver but had published in newspapers, Washington reflected on what he had learned in his eight years in office, praised the best of American life and society and warned of its worst tendencies (particularly in the form of political parties, above which the no-longer-running-for-office Washington could now safely stand), and departed the national scene with a few final words of wisdom. Given that term limits had not been established, and that Washington could have run for a third term had he chosen, this farewell address reflects a clear choice on the first president’s part, a decision to end his administration on his own terms and to do so while seeking to influence the subsequent administrations and centuries of American life. It’s fair to say that every departing president since has tried to do the same, one more way in which Washington got our traditions started.Next second term tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Takes on Washington, or any other president’s second term?
Published on January 22, 2013 03:00
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