I somehow missed the death of historian David Brion Davis, who died on April 14, 2019. His death date is sort of ironic as it is the same day Abraham Lincoln was assassinated in 1865. Davis' writings centered on the "problem" of slavery, and how it was not until the late 1700s that a Western oriented movement began to develop to eradicate at least chattel slavery, based upon political philosophy, morality in human dignity, and ideas that crossed into revolution over all hierarchies. Davis wrote many books on the subject of slavery, as one may see here at the Wiki page. Davis' three towering books, which pioneered modern comparative history, spanning nations and continents, and, which promoted social history (history from the "bottom up"), have been:
The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture
The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Revolution
The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Emancipation
Davis' life and work is ably summarized here at the Chronicle of Higher Education, particularly his experience as a soldier in segregated armies in World War II, and his finding inspiration from the historian Kenneth Stampp, who did so much to start a historians' movement away from the awful, racist Dunning School of historians regarding the Reconstruction period, which racist-oriented scholarship bled into a Confederate-oriented view of the Antebellum period (meaning the period leading to the U.S. Civil War), and the U.S. Civil War. I had recently been re-reading some early Robert Scheer and had seen a reference Scheer made to Davis' father, Clyde, who was a journalist and novel writer. I had not recalled the reference before, and when I saw the middle name "Brion," I quickly looked up Clyde Brion Davis on Wiki, and saw the paternal relationship. It was then I discovered, clicking through the Wiki link for the son, David, that David Brion Davis had passed away in April at the age of 92. Damn, I thought to myself. However, I immediately was glad Davis had finished The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Emancipation in 2014, as I had read that book two years ago. I had begun to despair that third book in the trilogy may never be written, as the Age of Revolution book had been published in the mid-1970s. The Age of Revolution was brilliant in helping me understand how the idea of abhorring chattel slavery developed and how non-obvious it was, and almost astonishing it developed at all. It is easy to think, well, what can this book on something so obvious in our time offer in terms of insight into our own time? For me, reading about (a) British and French movements against slavery, with the French, moving slower than the British despite the French Revolution, ironically enough; (b) Davis' mischievous, hinting and subtle analysis that there are different types of slaveries, starting with wage slavery, which was developing in Great Britain in the late 18th and early 19th Centuries; and (c) the manner in which most of white American society recoiled against any movement toward abolitionism, and, at most, favored re-colonization to Africa or even Central or South America, one sees how movements fail and continue to fail, until they succeed. Davis' scholarship, his insight, and his creativity in moving back and forth among the U.S., Great Britain, and France, and sometimes elsewhere, was, again, remarkable.
Davis' three books alone (and his others, such as his lecture book, The Slave Power Conspiracy and the Paranoid Style) are an extraordinary achievement. The books are, admittedly, not easy reads for lay readers, as the books contain detailed footnotes/endnotes--though, for me, the footnotes/endnotes provided much information and understanding about the level of Davis' research, and where one may find nuggets of his philosophical approach that almost screams with frustration at the human condition. I recognize most lay readers find detailed and wordy footnotes or endnotes overwhelming, though they continue to be a delight for my autodidactic and antiquarian mind. I had often wondered how Davis would end his trilogy, and how the book itself would end. I was highly gratified to read Davis' Age of Emancipation book ending, where Davis recognized how, despite the abolition of chattel slavery in much of the planet, something which had been openly supported throughout most of human history (and where even Aristotle spoke glowingly about how "natural" it is to own human slaves or be human slaves), human beings, including in the civilized societies, often easily fall back into such behavior. Davis' final words in the book speak of human trafficking, wage slavery (he could have added prison wage slavery), of how Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union reverted slavery and slave camps, and that any catastrophe from either nuclear war, climate change, or something else, could, again, easily restore chattel slavery on a large scale, especially starting in the region we call The Middle East. Davis then humbly reminded his readers that, if we transported ourselves back into 1860 Mississippi, we would find ourselves confronted with otherwise educated plantation owners who took chattel slavery for granted as a God-given right and, most ironically, a moral duty. Davis' last words in the book state simply and clearly: "The outlawing of chattel slavery in the New World, and then globally, represents a crucial landmark of moral progress that we should never forget."
I was privileged to have had one personal interaction via email with Davis in the fall of 2012, after The Smithsonian magazine just published a feature article on the Reconstruction period, and the end of chattel slavery in the U.S. after the Civil War, to coincide with the release of the Spielberg film, Lincoln, itself based in part on Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals. The Smithsonian, in a fit of ideological dumbness, assigned the arguably racist Southern so-called humor writer, Roy Blount, Jr.,* to write the article. Blount wrote an article that was right out of the Dunning School, and showed a remarkable indifference to African-American suffering after the Civil War. It was so horrible I could not believe it. I wrote an admittedly outraged letter to the editor to The Smithsonian, which was not published of course. But I sent via email a copy of the letter to historians Eric Foner, Drew Faust, and David Brion Davis, who each had written not only scholarly books or articles on the eras, but had written popular essays for major publications. Foner emailed back informing me he was not in the least surprised The Smithsonian editor picked someone like Blount, as, he said, the editor is "quite conservative," but that my letter was an appropriately "strong rejoinder." Faust gave a more polite reply, merely thanking me for stating my viewpoint (Well, she was president of Harvard at that point, and did not need to have any further controversies...:)). I admit, however, to being most personally gratified by Davis' emailed response. Davis emailed me regarding my letter, saying:
This is a superb and much needed critique. I've not seen the film of course but it's shocking to read about Blount's article.
Best, David Brion Davis
Yes, I kept that email from October 27, 2012, which is now inside my hardcover copy of The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Emancipation.
David Brion Davis has long been in my personal pantheon of the mid to nearly late 20th Century historians. The historians of that era wrote in a style that some in the academy appear to now feel is too "authoritative," meaning not enough "I feel..." or "It is my opinion" in the text. I admit to finding that critique silly, as one knows, when one is reading a book, the book itself is the writer's viewpoint. To put in all those "I's" is distracting in what is a long text, particularly a text with extensive, copious footnotes. For me personally, Davis and other historians of that era--one thinks immediately of David Morris Potter, Richard Hofstadter, Henry Steele Commager, and C. Vann Woodward, for starters--represent the pinnacle of American historical writing. Each of these historians had a penetrating sense of "History" as a continuing argument, recognized the study of history as a philosophical endeavor can tell us much about the impact of ideas in a given society (Potter, Hofstadter and Davis are brilliant on the topic of historiography), and, most important for me as a contrarian type, each recognized those in human history who proved fundamentally wrong in general may not have been wrong in certain particulars. Here, I think of Woodward's great essay on Virginia antebellum lawyer, George Fitzhugh's mischievous "defense" of chattel slavery compared to wage slavery in Fitzhugh's 1856 book, Cannibals All: Slaves Without Masters, reprinted in Woodward's American Counterpoint: Slavery and Racism in the North-South Dialogue. Yes, I get these historians I have named are all white men. However, the racial and sexual status of these historians should not distract us from their insights, their elegant writing, and their remarkable scholarship. And it certainly does not mean that women and those who are not white males cannot or have not reached their level of style and insight. I have, in recent years, deeply admired the scholarship of Glenda Gilmore (her work on the early 20th Century civil rights movement is required reading), Drew Faust, and Jill Lapore, as well as the African-American male historian, Robin D.G. Kelley. I also remain a major booster for the now long gone Rayford Logan, an African-American historian of that 1940s-1970s era, whose Betrayal of the Negro: From Rutherford B. Hayes to Woodrow Wilson aka The Nadir: 1877-1901, remains lost to most Americans, and many American historians, and should be reissued. Logan really put the historian's Mark of Cain on Wilson at a time when the historian, Arthur Link, was writing hagiographies about Wilson. It is, however, enough to remark the white male historians in my pantheon are like The Beatles of their profession. They wrote about American history in a way that allowed other to build upon and recreate, and they remain remarkably unique and compelling to read as this still new century unfolds.
To ape the style apparently favored in too many academic circles, I feel sadness at learning of Davis' passing, and feel badly I missed an opportunity for further communication with him. My feeling speaks, I guess, to my own frustration about not ever becoming a history professor myself, where I may have interacted with Davis on a professional basis. There. Enough feelings? :)
* I will always remember seeing Blount on television the night Obama won the presidential election in 2008. He appeared drunk to me, and was so ridiculously saddened that Obama won that I thought, My God, is Blount really this racist? It was a pathetic performance.
