The response of the Black Left to Harold Cruse’s The Crisis of the Negro Intellectual reflected, in many ways, the uncertainty facing many Black intellectuals in 1967. Confronted with “white backlash”, the rise of Black Power, the retreat of liberalism, and the dilemma of Vietnam, Black intellectuals (especially those on the Left) found themselves trying to grapple with a future full of both potential and serious pitfalls. However, Cruse’s work, which was quite personal in attacking many Black intellectuals who still held serious influence on the Black Left, elicited a variety of responses. While it would be a mistake to assume they were all positive or (more believable to assume) all negative, the reviews of Cruse’s book in Freedomways, Motive, and other organs for Black intellectuals showcased a diversity of thought influenced by then-contemporary crises in ideology and vision.
The works of Black American intellectuals since 1965 have been shaped by a growing awareness that the place of Black Americans within larger American society is always in flux. After the major victories for the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Voting Rights Act of 1965, questions arose as to what Black Americans could do next to further cement their place as equal citizens and consumers in America. As I examined last week with Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Where Do We Go From Here, Black intellectuals began to think about a world after the Civil Rights Movement. For King, obviously, the battle for equal rights and economic justice was far from over. But he was also aware that the tenuous goodwill he and other civil rights leaders gained through 1965 from the mainstream press was beginning to wane by the summer of 1966. The rise of white backlash, feared by civil rights leaders and white liberals alike, finally came in 1966, voiced itself in the midterms that year, and would become a key part of American politics for the rest of the 1960s.
(Editor’s Note: this is the sixth, and last, in a series of weekly guest posts that Robert Greene will be doing for us. I expect, however, that he will be appearing on this blog in the future… — Ben Alpers)
Over the last few weeks, I’ve written on a wide variety of subjects related to the Black American Experience and American Intellectual History. Now I think it’s time to look towards the future, and look at several books that will be released in the next several months that deal with Black Americans and the era that Daniel Rodgers referred to as an “Age of Fracture.” Continue reading
Editor’s note: The following is a guest essay by Kurt Newman, PhD candidate at UC Santa Barbara.
Whiteness as Intellectual Property: Some Notes Towards a History of Copyright Law’s Racial Unconscious
by Kurt Newman
As a left historian working on the history of intellectual property (IP), few recent events have been as heartening as the appearance of a special section of Jacobin magazine dedicated to the politics of copyright and patent law. Jacobin, as readers of this site surely know, has emerged in recent months as a force in new new left journalism, attracting deserved attention as a key site of a revitalized New York-based radical politics.
While IP was a big topic on the Left a few years back, attention to it has faded in recent years. I have had some worries that perhaps I have chosen to work on yesterday’s topic. The Jacobin IP forum relieves some of those anxieties, and also points to the need for further conversation.
To my mind, the best part of the Jacobin IP section is an excellent essay by the artist and critic Anne Elizabeth Moore on the often-neglected gender dimensions of IP. I urge everyone to read it—Moore is a wonderful writer and makes an ironclad case for the need to reorient discussion of IP around feminist priorities. Reading Moore’s essay led me to think about race as a missing term in the Jacobin forum. Thus, in the following section, I thought I would share some work I have done on that topic. Continue reading
(Editor’s Note: this is the fifth in a series of weekly guest posts that Robert Greene will be doing for us. — Ben Alpers)
Reading Andrew Hartman’s piece on his time in Denmark so far, one line in particular caught my eye. It was a quote from David Nye on the Danish outlook of the United States: “Danes have taken an increasing interest in American popular culture, which seems to them an exotic mix of personal freedom, informality, creativity, extreme wealth and poverty, glittering skylines, crime, oppression, African-American struggle, circus-like elections, rock and roll, religious fanaticism, the Wild West, and rags-to-riches success.” The three bolded words, in particular, caught my eye.
When talking and writing about American history there is one, iron-clad belief that I have always espoused: the centrality of the African American experience to understanding American history. This is in no way to minimize the many important stories within American history about a wide variety of peoples. It’s difficult to mention American history however, especially that of the 20th century, without talking about the “Black experience.” That term, “Black experience”, says very little about the rich diversity of African American history. It encapsulates so much as to nearly say little or nothing about figures as different as W.E.B DuBois, Hubert Harrison, Booker T. Washington, George Schuyler, Martin Luther King, or Ida B. Wells. But, I suppose, “Black experience” will have to do. At the very least it allows for exploration of the ways in which Black Americans came to grapple with their place in the American body politic. My posts a few weeks ago were an attempt to talk about a particular aspect of that “grappling”, if you will, when it comes to sports and civil religion. Continue reading
(Editor’s Note: this is the
third fourth in a series of weekly guest posts that Robert Greene will be doing for us. — Ben Alpers)
The noted writer Albert Murray passed away about two weeks ago. Since then, the media has devoted some (but not nearly enough, in my opinion) coverage of the man, his writings, and his particular ideological focus. Murray, you see, was the product of a unique intellectual and cultural moment in American history, one which I shall focus on today. The output of Murray’s career is unique and deserves to be examined, but for the purposes of today’s discussion, I want to focus on his landmark work, The Omni-Americans. Continue reading
(Editor’s Note: the following is a guest post from frequent contributor Chris Cameron — Ben Alpers)
As I get deeper into the research for my project on black freethinkers and closer to the point of publishing an article and applying for fellowships to start funding the study, one question has been continually on my mind: how should I categorize black humanism? Is it a religion, or more of a philosophy? Admittedly, humanism is not the only component of this project, but it is the largest, as I have encountered few black atheists (thus far) who do not also consider themselves humanists.
This question has very practical implications for anyone studying humanism, whether among Africans Americans or any other group. If a strong case could be made for humanism as a religion, then that opens up a number of funding opportunities that may not be available for someone studying black intellectual history. For graduate students, categorization becomes even more important, as how they market their dissertation projects will determine which types of jobs are open to them. Also, if I want to publish an article on black humanism, would I submit something to the new Journal of Africana Religions, or would I go with something such as Modern Intellectual History? Continue reading
(Editor’s Note: This is the latest in Christopher Cameron’s series of Saturday guest posts. — Ben Alpers)
A question that I have been thinking about quite a bit over the past few months as I work on my book on black freethinkers is how their ideology and experience differs from that of the more mainstream (i.e. white) freethinking community. There are of course many common beliefs we can point to among most freethinkers. Secular humanists, for instance, be they black or white, generally believe in the importance of scientific literacy, expanded access to education in general, practicing compassion toward other people, finding meaning and value in nature and human relationships, and working to benefit society. Black and white pagans generally hold non-theistic beliefs revolving around veneration or even a form of deification of the natural world. And of course atheism and agnosticism are the same beliefs no matter who holds them. Where the signal differences seem to lie, then, is in the manner in which these different groups have historically come to their positions and the ways in which they do so today. Continue reading
(Editor’s Note: This is the latest in Christopher Cameron series of Saturday guest posts. — Ben Alpers)
In one of the first books written on African American Humanism, Norm R. Allen Jr. noted that black “humanism entails a belief in reason, science, democracy, openness to new ideas, the cultivation of moral excellence, a commitment to justice and fairness, and a belief in the inherent worth of humanity.” Allen, the former director of African Americans for Humanism, believed that examining this topic would invigorate the study of Black history, especially by shedding light on the secular perspectives of civil rights leaders such as A. Phillip Randolph. He accordingly compiled short biographical essays on black humanists by various scholars, as well as essays by and oral interviews of black humanists ranging from W.E.B. Du Bois to Zora Neale Hurston to Charles W. Faulkner.
In the twenty-two years since Allen first published African American Humanism: An Anthology, not much progress has been made on our understanding of this vital intellectual tradition. Last year, however, Anthony Pinn published an important work that builds upon Allen’s definition of black humanism by articulating a fully developed African American humanist theology. Pinn, a professor of Religious Studies at Rice University, centers this new black humanism around the notion of “the end of God-talk.” Continue reading
Paul Gilroy was a big deal when I was in graduate school. In the paper I’m preparing for the OAH, I make an oblique reference to Gilroy. As I’m battening down the hatches on that article, I got to wondering how the twenty first century has treated Gilroy, particularly his foundation shaking Black Atlantic. So I did a little searching and was oh so pleased to find an August 2009 article entitled “The Black Atlantic: Exploring Gilroy’s legacy” by Lucy Evans in Atlantic Studies.
The abstract to the article is