Credit where due

I try to know as much history as I can study, but Kevin M. Levin has just taught me there's a lot I've missed about how the Union won the Civil War. 

By Committee of Ladies of Philadelphia via Wikipedia

Roughly 75 percent of free born African American men of military age in the North volunteered to serve in the Union army during the Civil War. No other demographic group in American history has mobilized for war at anything close to that rate.

These men enlisted knowing they would receive unequal pay until Congress relented in 1864, that they would serve under white officers and be denied commissions, and that capture might mean enslavement or execution rather than a prison camp. Finally, they served not knowing whether that service would translate into citizenship.

Roughly 180,000 Black men ultimately served in the United States Colored Troops, nearly a tenth of the Union army by the war’s end. They were joined by hundreds of thousands of enslaved men and women who fled to Union lines and forced emancipation onto the war’s agenda before Washington had decided what the war was about.

Frederick Douglass understood precisely what this service meant, which is why he threw himself into recruitment. “Once let the black man get upon his person the brass letters U.S.,” he declared in 1863, “let him get an eagle on his button, and a musket on his shoulder, and bullets in his pocket, and there is no power on the earth or under the earth which can deny that he has earned the right of citizenship in the United States.” 

Apparently civilians in Union cities knew who was defending them. I feel pretty certain that Donald Trump and his merry band of vandals who are busily trying to cover up what we should learn in US history doesn't know this. And they'd only work harder to push lies if they were taught it. But we can do better.

Memories of delight

There are so many ways to reflect on America 250. I loved this one. 

The Center for Asian American Media writes: 

As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of the United States of America, we’re looking through our Memories to Light archives of home movies from our community and are moved by how Asian Americans have long been an integral part of our nation. 

Memories to Light is CAAM’s archive of Asian American home footage from across the country, spanning six decades (1920s through the 1980s). These images embody shared social, cultural, and political representations of Asian America and demonstrate the importance of collective storytelling as a path toward greater understanding of the Asian American experience. 

What a gift! 

Friday cat blogging -- sleepy time

Unlike most of the country, summer in San Francisco is cool and gray. Our cats, after being fed and loved by their human servants, take the mist to signal they should take naps.

What a life!

Showing up counts

Andrea Pitzer, author of a serious popular book on the history of concentration camps, surveys the literature on authoritarian governments and movements and comes up with a deceptively simple prescription for those of us who aren't agreeable to American fascism. 

... If support for authoritarian rule can be influenced by something as simple as knowing that others support authoritarian rule, then it’s incumbent upon all of us who can to publicly reject strongmen and their tactics. This study shows that in communities with a free flow of information (as should be the case), the malleability of public opinion will remain a real risk. And this kind of peer influence on people supporting strongmen—when they realize others do—means that norms can shift radically for the worse in a short period, just as we’ve seen in the U.S. in recent decades.

This runs deeper than Trumpism. And one way that each of us can push back is to let our peers know, though word and deed, that these abuses of power are against our values, and that the authoritarian response is a shameful one based in fear and weakness.

There are a million ways you can take on that challenge, publicly embracing freedom and openness to everyone in the community—through art, through writing, through community cleanup, through calls for accountability, through social get-togethers. The main thing is to do something to stake your claim and turn those who support authoritarian rule into the definite minority where you live and around the world. 

My emphasis. We have neighbors and friends. They see what we care about and what we do. A pebble tossed in a lake or stream changes the movement of the water, even if imperceptibly at first. Keep tossing; there is no humane alternative.

Trump is a crook, any way you think about it

It's hard to avoid thinking about "corruption" these days. Every pundit who isn't a MAGA stooge agrees that Donald Trump is the most corrupt leader/office holder the nation has ever empowered. Some might wonder whether Andrew Jackson, or Ulysses Grant, or even Warren G. Harding might give Trump a run for the title. But even a little digging says no. The barons of the Jim Crow system like Huey Long might give Trump competition, but their state level corruption is a different league. In the corruption games, Trump is a legitimate winner.

And yet discussions of Trump -- and his sons' and MAGA acolytes' -- corruption often bemuse me. Let me try to pick this apart ...

For about ten years back in the '70s and '80's I was a small scale construction contractor. That meant that jobs that I worked on were sometimes subject to inspection by the San Francisco Building Department. In that era, the inspectors were mostly old Irish guys who had worked the trades when younger; I think it is possible that my boss passed along a bottle of Irish whiskey to the inspector when we passed the final, but this was closer to solidarity than bribery. I don't think anyone thought you paid the inspector to get a sign off. These inspectors liked good work when they saw it: one of my happy memories of that era was having a white haired, retired, inspector, a Glen Park neighbor of the job, come over to where I was building an entry staircase and announce that I'd engineered the thing as well as any boy he'd trained. He cared that no one would stumble because of my errors. That was the ethos, at least most of the time. 

In subsequent years, the San Francisco Building Department became a sinkhole of corruption facilitated by payoffs to "expediters" and sometimes allowing complete neglect of inspections, all for a price. It took a federal investigation to clean up some of this.  I was glad I was out of the business.

That's what first comes to mind when I hear "corruption" -- bribes and payoffs to authorities for favors. And there certainly is plenty of that in Trump's various pay-to-play schemes.

But a great deal of commentary on Trump and the Supreme Court describes what we're seeing as "corrupt" -- and these writers don't just mean that Thomas and Alioto seem to float happily along on gifts from their rich benefactors, some of whom have cases on the docket.

What we are up against isn't just run-of-the-mill bribery, quid pro quos.  It's rot that lives and grows embedded in the system: the "moth and rust [that] doth corrupt," to be exploited by the thieves.

David Kurtz, via Henry Farrell, makes the point that we are up against this systemic meaning of "corruption."

"To understand corruption properly, we shouldn’t think of it as an individual level phenomenon. Classical thinkers, like Machiavelli, understood corruption as a condition that could afflict governments and indeed societies. But if we value democracy as the best way to order our affairs, we should understand corruption as not a moral phenomenon but a political one, which involves the corruption of democratic processes."

… and applies it to the Roberts Court:

"Across an apparently unrelated range of issues – campaign finance, executive immunity, political corruption and gerrymandering – the Roberts Court’s decisions have persistently corrupted the workings of democracy, so as to undermine equality in decision making and voice in favor of processes that are both duplicitous and exclusive." 

Our Constitutional state has rotted from within at the encouragement and for the benefit of the rich and powerful. Such rot overrides citizen democracy. Yet citizen resistance remains and in our history has again and again overcome robber barons, against both sorts of corruption. 

Note that this broader meaning of "corruption" was well understood in Shakespeare's English: Hamlet's friend, contemplating the drunken revels of the usurpers, summarizes: "there's something rotten" here. 

We are forced to reclaim this usage. 

A season complete ...

Many thanks for all the kind birthday greetings yesterday. We celebrated by watching the lackluster performance by the US men's soccer team. Congrats to Belgium and all the worthy teams in the World Cup.

Of course the Orange Toddler had to do all he could to pollute the occasion. Heather Cox Richardson sums up his intervention in favor of a suspended US star player:

But a world in which playing fields are level is not the world Trump wants. He wants one in which people in power can ignore the rule of law for their own ends. 

Most of us prefer just law, equal opportunity, and a "decent respect for the opinions of [human]kind." 

This year I've come to delight in the idea of spending the couple of weeks stretching from Juneteenth through Independence Day as a season for reflection on the country, its history, its incomplete aspirations. I think that's a worthy practice.

Now back to the grind of freedom's constant struggle ... 

Flowers for a quiet Sunday

San Francisco is surprisingly verdant. It's the dry season, yet the season of thick fog. Observed on neighborhood walks:

 Proving once again, sun and sweat are not the only way to do summer.

How to live in a nation that hates you?

I'm not unusual in being moved by this 250th US anniversary to think about the present through the lens of Centennials Past.  Princeton University scholar Eddie Glaude Jr. has offered his reflections in America, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation's Anniversaries.  A scholar of James Baldwin, he is not into pretty pictures of the past; this is not that kind of nation. 

And so Glaude begins:

I do not love America, and never have, especially now.

From there, he's more than ready to tell us why that is:

... Desperately afraid of being exposed, particularly to themselves, most white Americans have been led by that fear, and continue to be led, into a kind of delirium that erupts, repeatedly, in unimaginable violence and draconian policies. They lash out. They destroy or render entire populations invisible, lock them away in prisons, push them to the edges of our communities, or deport them in order to keep the country, or their idea of the country, from being torn asunder.

... Trump’s reelection in 2024 signaled that a large swath of white America was unwilling to struggle any longer over race matters. Instead, he reasserted the fantasy of a white Republic. ... 

The burden of white America is a lot to carry. But here Glaude is -- and here we all are.

Glaude takes up various bits of our history and white America's shame in the light of the five great commemorative anniversaries. Particular horrors bubble to the top of this stew for deeper examination. 

For example, launching off the fact that Frederick Douglass's home place was western New York state in the years before the Civil War, Glaude dissects the Tops Market hate massacre in Buffalo in 2021. This one got to me, because Buffalo also was my home place, and I do not want to forget...

... Well over a century after Douglass delivered his speech in Corinthian Hall and Garnet announced in Buffalo that pharaohs were on both sides of the Red Sea, Payton Gendron, an eighteen-year-old white male from Conklin, New York, drove over two hundred miles to east Buffalo, exited his car with a semiautomatic rifle with the word Nigger scrawled on its barrel, and opened fire at the Tops Friendly Market. He was dressed in tactical gear and live-streamed his killing spree on Twitch. [Ten shoppers died.]

Gendron purposefully chose this area because of its high concentration of Black residents. Buffalo is the sixth most segregated city in the country and the third poorest city in the nation. Thirty-five percent of African Americans and 40 percent of Black children in Buffalo live below the poverty line. In 2021, African American unemployment in the city stood at 11 percent. Masten Park on the East Side, where the Tops grocery store is located, is like most Black neighborhoods in poor cities teeming with Black people trying to make ends meet. Severe residential segregation has drawn a hard line between Black and white residents in the city. One reporter likened Main Street to the Berlin Wall, a divide, like railroad tracks in small Southern towns, that separates Black and white neighborhoods. 

Before the horror on May 14, Black people lived in a city that fundamentally devalued and disregarded them, no matter which political party governed. They lived and died by a thousand daily cuts in “the city of good neighbors. ...

Glaude goes on to recount the testimony of the survivors and the relatives of the murdered. These are people who do not have the option of ignoring the reality that too much of their own country discounts their humanity. 

How to live in a nation that hates you? Glaude takes this as his problem and his text:

... We are forced to live with the idea that, because of the color of our skin and because of the color of yours, somehow that says something about our value, our worth. ... 

... There is this palpable sense throughout the country that everything is collapsing around us—that hatred has overrun basic values and that greed has trumped decency. Hope for a racially just society seems like a fool’s desire, because so many white folks—those who can’t imagine themselves as anything but white—have lost their damn minds. 

But love breaks through. Not some sentimentalized love of country that can easily slip into a kind of idolatry that makes one monstrous, but the love of people close to the ground, who give this place meaning and purpose. The love that motivated slaves to imagine a future as a free people when nothing about their experience suggested that such a future could be possible; the love that announces hatred must never have the last word. ...

... Your country? Your history? No. It is ours. Our sweat and tears have shaped this land. You feel us in the music; our sound rolls off your tongue. Our presence fills your classic literature. Our wails and moans, our joys and laughter, make this place swing. Your country? No. The bars of music that begin each chapter of this book suggest otherwise. And no matter your efforts to make us invisible or to deny the history of the country that unravels your myths and legends, we know America would not be America without us. 

The reality is what it is. The country has given us Donald Trump, and we have to deal with this madness again. The pounding in the skull returns as we struggle to beat back the “intolerable bitterness of spirit,” because these people have done this shit again in the 250th year of America, U.S.A., a semiquincentennial blues.

Glaude would never deny he's a kind of preacher. 

Centennials past ...

My family has been bumping about the United States for a long time, since well before this was a nation, since Europeans started expropriating New England from its inhabitants. I am fortunate to have come into considerable family archives; I find it interesting to catalogue ancestral markers of these observances

At the time of the first (1875-6) centennial, a great-great grandfather, E. G. Spaulding, was a prosperous civic grandee, a banker and former mayor of Buffalo. He erected his personal monument to the country which had been so good to him. He was full of energy and pride.

 

The ostensible purpose of this massive pseudo-classical stone horror was to mark 50 years since the passing of his ancestor, Levi Spaulding, who fought in the American revolutionary army from Bunker Hill through Yorktown. But one panel was also an affirmation of the struggle of this own lifetime; old E.G. was in Congress during Lincoln's fraught Civil War term. He knew where he stood on the battles of his day.

   

Click to enlarge images. 

 • • •

Come the 150th anniversary of the country in 1926, the city of Buffalo was in its commercial heyday. Most of the great civic monuments were in construction or planning in that decade, including Shea's Performing Arts Center, the Peace Bridge to Canada and the art deco City Hall. In addition to industry, Buffalo profited greatly being the gateway to booze smuggled in from Canada, defying Prohibition. I remember asking my mother about that year's sesquicentennial. She was unusually vague in her memories. She was 18 that year, graduating from high school, about to go off with her family on a summer cruise around the Mediterranean, then off to college. She remembered she took her flask with her. Under Prohibition, you had to be sure you didn't drink something that turned out to be paint thinner.

• • •

By the time of the Bicentennial of 1976, I can bring my own memories. I was 29 that year. While the tall ships sailed into New York harbor and the fire works lofted over Philadelphia, I was painting my parents' living room, the furniture swathed in tarps and the painter covered in roller spray. I don't think we wore masks when painting in those days. My chief memory is sweltering, with occasional breaks for the TV.

 

My generation, people who came of age in late 1960s, were often America skeptics. We had grown up inspired by the Civil Rights revolution, then watched the cities burn when hope for racial and economic justice was unfilled, while the boys were sent to Vietnam to die for what we knew was nothing good. Then a president turned out to be just a common crook and drunk -- and by 1976 we were left with Gerald Ford who seemed an interim stand-in for a national leader. 

 

By 1976 I was on board with Dorothy Day's one word reaction to the Bicentennial as printed in the National Catholic Reporter:

 

Dorothy summed up my feelings of the time. This still seems one appropriate response to the national festivites.

• • • 

So what's to make of America 250? 

 

I have to admit, I'm sort of enjoying the show. Donald Trump's ignorant, tacky effort to hijack the national celebration seems largely to inspire ridicule. This ia not a respectful country and never has been. This is also not really a backward looking country; we can wallow in MAGA's swamp of gloomy nostalgia for a season, but our history is that hope revives. Against all odds, we can still make that happen. Let's keep up the work.

On the eve of the July 4 holiday

When I was a child, the preeminent patriotic song was not "The Star Spangled Banner" ... Too formal and too hard to sing. For some, the song might have been "God Bless America" belted out on vinyl by Kate Smith. But mostly, the patriotic anthem was "My country 'tis of thee ..." Perhaps this had something to do with our proximity Canada where, incongruously to American ears, the same tune served as a national anthem pledging allegiance to British monarchy. Obviously an adaptable tune.

With this in mind, I was delighted to stumble upon this wonderful iteration contributed by W.E.B.Dubois:

... Of course you have faced the dilemma: it is announced, they all smirk and rise. If they are ultra, they remove their hats and look ecstatic; then they look at you. What shall you do? Noblesse oblige; you cannot be boorish, or ungracious; and too, after all it is your country and you do love its ideals if not all of its realities. Now, then, I have thought of a way out: Arise, gracefully remove your hat, and tilt your head. Then sing as follows, powerfully and with deep unction. They’ll hardly note the little changes and their feelings and your conscience will thus be saved:

My country tis of thee,
Late land of slavery,
         Of thee I sing.
Land where my father’s pride
Slept where my mother died,
From every mountain side
         Let freedom ring!

My native country thee
Land of the slave set free,
         Thy fame I love.
I love thy rocks and rills
And o’er thy hate which chills,
My heart with purpose thrills,
         To rise above. ... 

There are two additional verses.  

Takes one to know too many

Panic about newcomers to the United States seems to be a hardy perennial in the American experience. 

Because my parents were unusually old when they reproduced, closer to 40 than 25 when they had a child, I carry a memory of coming up with people who had come of age during the immigration restriction panic of the 1920s. Even in the 1950s, they saw nothing amiss in reflexive "soft" prejudice against people who came from what they saw as "shithole" countries; in their world, that would be people of Italian or, even worse, Polish ancestry. The great patriotic coalition of World War II had sanded some ugly edges off this for them and this disdain didn't extend either to European Jews or American-born Blacks. But during the restricted phase of legal immigration that extended to 1965, they were just normies with normie attitudes. 

My generation were more open to new experiences and newcomers; we call that the Sixties. We were beyond shocking and very controversial to previous generations.

And then, like many Americans, my parents became more and more open to the different sort of Americans who came among us when we opened legal immigration doors a crack. 

The dwindling white base of the current Republican Party desperately wants the past and their entitled bigotry back. The Supreme Court's too small majority affirming birthright citizenship does not mean the end of the fight; it merely signals a new phase in the never finished struggle over who is a real American.

Air Force vet and former Republican Congresscritter Adam Kinzinger speaks to this moment; he knows the worst of his former constituents.  

Why Trump Won't Stop Until He Ends Birthright Citizenship 

Who is an American isn’t a difficult question. Despite what four politicians in black robes tried to tell us ..., the 14th Amendment is incredibly clear, written in language anybody can read and comprehend: “Any persons born or naturalized in the United States.” It’s simple: If you’re born here, you’re an American, and entitled to all our country’s blessings. And it used to be pretty widely agreed upon that this was an asset that this set our country above other nations as a beacon of freedom.

When I swore an oath to protect and defend the Constitution, I knew this was part of the deal. And I served in uniform alongside people that would have proudly given their life for their country, even if their parents were born somewhere else.

... Let’s be very clear about this: Trump and his allies are not going to stop trying to end Birthright Citizenship, and whoever succeeds him will pick up that mantle. Deciding “who is an American” is central to the MAGA project; it is among the very first steps in their playbook. 

If you think this is an overstatement, just look at one response yesterday from a prominent MAGA stooge—the CEO of the right-wing magazine The Federalist: 

click to enlarge

I'm reproducing this deranged screed here because most of us don't see the stuff our right wingers stew in. "Deny entry to all pregnant foreigners." "Deny entry to all female foreigners." "Require sterilization of all foreign visitors prior to entry." These people are scared stupid!

Kinzinger goes on: 

What makes America exceptional is the idea that citizenship isn’t about bloodlines or tribal membership—it’s about our shared commitment to a set of principles. It is a big, sprawling, living and breathing Democracy. This is what sets us apart from nations that define citizenship by ethnicity or religion. A Shining City on a Hill isn’t meant to be admired in the distance, it is an actual place with people, industry, traditions and faith.

And that gets us to the core of MAGA. The movement to end birthright citizenship isn’t trying to make America stronger. It’s trying to make America smaller, more fearful, more divided. It’s trying to turn the Constitution into a weapon against the very people it was designed to protect. Ultimately, Trump wants a smaller citizenry, a smaller democracy and a smaller America—in every sense of the word.

This is an existential fight for [Stephen Miller], for Trump and for the sociopaths they’ve got running the government right now. It is the skeleton key to the fascist takeover so many of them pray for each night. So the fight continues because they will never stop. 

America, as they know it, cannot exist with birthright citizenship in place because they believe it diminishes them. And, to me, that’s what makes the MAGA movement so weak and pathetic. They want to make being born here a curse, when the rest of us know it is an immense privilege. ...

What happened at the Supreme Court is not just another move in an ongoing MAGA v. Dems chess match. This is our existential fight.