Society

A street in Ireland, 1907 (Courtesy National Library of Ireland via the Commons on Flickr)

Among the hundreds of historical photographs I’ve looked at this week, this one stands out, jarring my sensibilities, its everydayness so strikingly at odds with ours.  Whereas many historical photographs appeal because of their near-resemblance to the life we know, others are fascinating in their strangeness, in their capacity to demand independent consideration.

So it is with this photograph from the National Library of Ireland.  It shows a muddy street in the port city of Waterford, where teamsters are conveying several carts of live turkeys up from the wharves.  Their destination may be a local poultry store, where the turkeys were likely to be sold to customers live, then kept at home and butchered by those in the kitchen for the holiday meal.  The date is December 16, 1907.  To have a rich turkey feast was then, as in Dickens’ time sixty years earlier, a singular joy and a sure token of prosperity.

There was a different appearance to a street.  The bricks of the gutter are evident, but the rest of the paving is scarcely visible beneath a thick layer of mud and animal waste, which night crews may have periodically combed smooth.  The only conveyances in sight are carts and wagons, though elsewhere, we know, automobiles were beginning to appear.  Besides teamsters hauling goods away from the harbor, the only other traffic is a pair of ladies in decent hats, driving themselves on their calls and errands.

The real point of interest, though, is along the curb, where we see a barefoot boy standing in the road.  He and his friend may be hoping to earn a few coins by helping the teamsters unload the turkeys.  Just a few feet away are a well-dressed lady and gentleman, and behind them are a trio of poorer, working-class women known as ‘shawlies.’  Whereas the lady has a proper overcoat or wrapper and a fur hat, the other women go about with their heads and bodies unceremoniously wrapped in shawls for warmth.  They carry baskets.

Class was different then, as clothing and shoes and manners marked out very visibly just how different one type of person was from the other.  Though the classes rubbed elbows much more intimately than they do today, the gulf between rich and poor was more evident and less was done to ameliorate it, to ease the suffering of the barefoot and hungry.

Image from this source.
Click on the image to enlarge it.

Big Bill Haywood

Union leaders Adolf Lessig and Big Bill Haywood (Courtesy Library of Congress via Flickr Commons)

There’s something raw about the history of the 1910s, a period of depression and unrest, when Americans were engaged in an anxious quest for alternatives.  It was a period of activism, when anti-capitalist sentiment and true human suffering allowed organized labor, still in its infancy, to make significant strides.  At the center of these trends were redoubtable labor leaders like Big Bill Haywood (right), shown here in 1913 with his fellow activist Adolph Lessig.

William Dudley Haywood (1869-1928) was one tough customer, a sometime socialist who helped found the radical labor organization known as the International Workers of the World (IWW), or ‘Wobblies.’  Founded in 1905, the IWW was radical in seeking to organize workers of all types and nationalities, even unskilled workers, in contrast to the other, more exclusive, ‘trade’ unions of the day.

Haywood was born in Utah and by age 15 was working in western copper mines.  By 1900, he had an invalid wife and two children and had gotten involved in the labor movement, skyrocketing to the top of the Western Federation of Miners, a militant union that in 1903 pitted itself against the Colorado mining industry and the state’s government in a bitter strike lasting nearly three years.

Aligned for a time with the fledgling Socialist Party, Haywood ultimately fell out with that group over strategy.  By 1910, his chief interest lay in directly mobilizing masses of people in IWW-led strikes and protests, believing this the surest path to structural change.Big Bill Haywood & followers in Paterson, NJ (Courtesy Library of Congress via Flickr Commons)

Haywood was involved, for instance, in the famous 1912 textile strike in Lawrence, Massachusetts, also known as the Bread and Roses strike, whose centennial is now being commemorated.  Lawrence’s textile workers included large numbers of women and teens, and many persons of foreign birth.  Their protests aroused national sympathy, particularly when children of striking parents were sent to New York City for safekeeping.  The strike ended after three months, with workers gaining many concessions to their demands.

The 1912 textile strike in Lawrence (Courtesy of the Library of Congress via Flickr Commons)

Haywood’s star began to set during WWI, when the IWW’s on-going militancy and vision of international solidarity jarred with wartime industrial demands and an accompanying tide of national feeling.  In 1917, Haywood and 100 other IWW officials were arrested on charges of wartime sedition, found guilty, and sentenced to lengthy prison terms.  Freed on bail while appealing conviction, Haywood fled to the Soviet Union, where he entered on an ignominious final chapter and died of alcoholism and diabetes a decade later.

His ashes are interred partly in a wall of the Kremlin, while others were sent back to Chicago to be buried in Waldheim Cemetery near the remains of the Haymarket martyrs.

Images: (top to bottom) Adolph Lessig and Big Bill Haywood, from this source;
Haywood and followers in Paterson, NJ (1913), from this source;
and a scene from
the Lawrence textile strike (1912), from this source.

RELATED ARTICLES:
May Day Meditations, Our Polity.
The Strike That Shook America 100 Years Ago, History.com.

A Great White Nation of Self-Made Men

The Republican National Convention created a strange impression, painting a peculiar picture of the US economy and its citizens’ woes.  Not only the present was distorted, but history, too.  I listened carefully to what the speakers and party-sponsored commercials praised, and compared it to the nation and the realities I knew.   There was a huge gap between the two.

America is at a cross-roads for many reasons, among them the fact that several enormous historical advantages we’ve enjoyed are waning.  The nation that once enjoyed an immense over-supply of land and relative scarcity of labor has matured into a nation where resources are becoming more precious and the population is more and more exposed to underemployment and fierce competition.  Global change is reinforcing the trend.  Yet rather than acknowledge or adjust to the change, Republicans have decided to dismiss it and argue that a flawed president is to blame.  Only bad people stand between us and the restoration of the nation’s former glory.

No credit was allowed to the great federal structure that allowed us to flourish in the first place, nor to the amazing natural inheritance that sustains the US—superior natural resources that should be husbanded rather than squandered or spoiled.

The vast historic role of the state in nation-building went unacknowledged—was belittled, even.  Rand Paul jeered at the idea that infrastructure investment creates prosperity, insisting the opposite was somehow the case.  Try telling that to the great 19th-century railway magnates, who depended entirely on land grants and laws enacted by Congress to create their lines.  Or to the era’s land-speculators, who knew that towns would grow mainly where railroads were placed.  Or to the first telegraph companies, whose networks piggybacked on the railroad rights-of-way that federal legislation had so thoughtfully made.  Without the federal government, states would have built useless networks of dead-end roads.

Even America’s private enterprises might have remained small had it not been for the protection that early Supreme Court decisions gave them.  Without such protection, all corporate entities would have been stymied, including those that built the nation’s first roads, bridges, and schools.

The Republicans committed other disturbing elisions.  I listened to the praise for families; I admired the attractiveness of Jenna Ryan and Ann Romney; their picture-perfect children were impressive, too.  The world of the 2012 Republicans is a world of stay-at-home mothers who don’t need to worry about limiting their family size or figuring out how to feed an additional mouth.  It’s a world where there’s plenty of time for charity, because the fortunate people in it somehow have plenty to spare.  And that’s good, because in this Republican world, government help is bad.  All we want, Paul Ryan tells us, is to be left alone.

Absent was any acknowledgment of the demographic trends of the last several decades, which have seen the rise of delayed child-bearing, increased family limitation and planning, and the rise of two-career couples working outside the home.  The party celebrated its female members—but these women apparently never needed a student loan, never needed protection from workplace bias, never needed family planning or contraception while single.  One must suppose this, because the Republicans have been active in opposing, attacking, and weakening the structure of support that has enabled more American women to gain education, control reproduction, contribute more to the family economy, and earn decent livings.

Without such support, how are young women supposed to take care of themselves and their families?  Implicit in the worldview paraded at the convention is that marriage in itself provides wives and mothers with adequate financial protection.  Yet the number of women living the dream that the beautiful Republican spouses embody is painfully few.

The Republican convention’s treatment of race was perhaps most astonishing.  The party sought to promote itself as a “brand” friendly to minorities, despite the fact that it has been working hard in states such as Texas, Ohio, and Pennsylvania to raise voting requirements, restrict early voting, and redraw districts in a way that make it harder for minorities to vote or gain representation.

I was agog at efforts to depict President Obama as a lazy, do-nothing character who did not understand struggle, success, or hard work.  It was a “dog-whistle” portrayal of a super-high-achieving guy that played off of deeply engrained racial stereotypes.  The topper came when Clint Eastwood re-imagined the president as someone who was anti-social and vulgar, enacting a racist fantasy (perhaps unwittingly) at the close of his imaginary dialogue with the president by encouraging the crowd to chant “Make My Day.”  We all know what happens to low-lifes who dare to mess with Dirty Harry.

It was a shameful spectacle spelling a new nadir for the G. O. P.

RELATED:
The Map of Federal Benefits, Our Polity.

Biden’s Arrow Hits Home


Joe Biden has mastered the political stump speech.  Watch the whole of his controversial campaign speech in Danville, Virginia, and you’ll see a great piece of Americana: a politician who knows how to work a crowd, seeking votes in a way that’s entertaining and folksy.  Biden’s allusion to slavery was hardly a gaffe; it was a logical and powerful way to get across a larger point about class and how Republicans have treated it for several decades.

We know Biden’s speech was a big success, because he was immediately excoriated as a dunce and a racist.  Blowback dominated the media for several days.  Romney huffily declared that Democrats had hit a new low and tried to get us to believe that Biden was a dangerous man whose message of division somehow “disgraced” the presidency.

Both sides questioned old Joe’s fitness and utility: Could he fill the presidential shoes if necessary?  Shouldn’t Obama drop him in favor of the sure-fire Hillary?  Democrats behaved predictably, too: instead of championing Biden and endorsing his underlying point, they grew sheepish.  If only they learned unity, the race wouldn’t even be close.

Puncturing the politics of avoidance
Yes, Biden hit a nerve, and he did it by puncturing the politics of avoidance that has been gripping the country.  Ever since the Reagan era, when Republicans managed to yoke together with one seamless ideology the economic interests of the elite with the social and moral concerns of people far more ordinary, class has been diminished as a potent source of political energy.  Republicans wish their supporters to believe that the interests of the wealthy and the less-so are the same.  To the extent that Democrats can pry this apart and present an alternative vision of class in American society, they will gain an important advantage over a Republican party that’s badly weakened already.

After all, this election is not “about jobs” or “the economy,” as Republicans say so blandly: it is about economic inequality and the role of the super-wealthy in our economic life.  It is about whether people like Mitt Romney, who has the whole world as his oyster, care about this nation’s economy and its ordinary people.

Romney would like voters to believe that his interests and theirs are just the same: that, if you feed the interests of his class, all will benefit; the interests of all classes will be served.  If that were the case, the recession would be ending, because American elites can write the script of the unfolding story.  They can decisively aid in restoring the nation’s economic health.  Leaders of America’s corporate class already have far more power than the president to see to it that Americans are more fully employed.

A party that’s drifted from its noble beginnings
Biden’s bald reference to slavery may well have pricked the conscience of Republicans who know how far their party has drifted from its noble beginnings.  In Lincoln’s time, Republicans were not only the champions of abolition: they were devoted to egalitarianism and to securing better economic prospects for lower-class whites.  The most radical Republicans advocated for full racial equality, a bracing proposition given the time.  Republicans were the ones who wanted to discuss such forbidden topics as slavery; it was Democrats who were proponents of silence, who wanted all discussion of “the peculiar institution” gagged.

Yet even then there were Republicans, such as Horace Greeley, who would not join the anti-slavery fight because they doubted whether the nation’s growing free-market system held out a sufficient promise of prosperity to American workers—even when those workers were white.  In the meantime, the persistence of slavery in America proved beyond a doubt that powerful elites, if left to their own devices, could not always be counted on to do the right thing.

Perhaps it was all that history that gave Biden’s arrow such a powerful zing.

The Next Political Football: Medicaid

Last week’s Supreme Court ruling on the Affordable Care Act has placed a spotlight on the expansion of Medicaid benefits that the legislation envisioned.  Reactions to the Court’s ruling, which gave states the right to opt out of the expansion, again illustrate the state-level differences in our political culture.  Already a number of states, notably Florida, have declared their states will not be going along, while others (including California, New York, and Illinois) have embraced the measure.

THIS INTERACTIVE MAP on the PBS News Hour website allows you to see where each state stands with respect to the plan and the number of eligible recipients who will be affected in each.

Readers may also be interested in the maps below, showing the US House and Senate votes that led to the passage of the health reform bill.  Click on the maps to see larger maps and full legends.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/54/111th_Congress_roll_call_165.svg/256px-111th_Congress_roll_call_165.svg.png

US House vote on March 21, 2010,
by congressional district, showing yeas and nays by party.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/92/111th_Congress_1st_session_Senate_roll_call_396.svg/256px-111th_Congress_1st_session_Senate_roll_call_396.svg.png

US Senate vote on December 24, 2009, by state.

Maps courtesy of Kurykh on Wikimedia Commons.


RELATED:
Susan Barsy, Progress Isn’t Popular, Our Polity.
Susan Barsy, A Decision We’ll All Feel, Our Polity.
Susan Barsy, The Map of Federal Benefits, Our Polity.
Susan Barsy, Help Understanding the Budget, Our Polity.

The Closed-Door Campaign

Photograph of an invitation to a Romney fund-raising event (Credit: Susan Barsy)

A piece of high-end junk mail appeared in my P.O. box the other day.  An invitation to an upcoming Romney fundraiser, it is a perfect souvenir of this campaign season.  For just $75,800, I can become a “Romney Victory Max Out Contributor,” and perhaps sit next to someone powerful in the old Pump Room.

Now that the suspense has gone out of the primaries, a superficial calm has fallen over the presidential campaign.  Tune out the perfunctory stump speeches and ramped-up media campaigns, and you will hear the ching-ching! of aggressive fund-raising, as both Romney and the president crisscross the country desperately scrounging up cash, now taken as a proxy for popular support.

Have you been reading about the changing style of presidential fundraising?  Whereas in 2008 Obama made securing small contributions a priority, his style of fund-raising is now virtually indistinguishable from that of Mitt Romney.  Both rely mainly on high-end fundraisers, hosted by celebrities or other ultra-wealthy Americans and typically kept at a distance from the public eye.  “Few Witnesses to Obama, Romney, As They Raise $1.5 Billion,” read a recent Bloomberg headline.

In many ways, this cozy relationship between leading politicians and the wealthy merely mirrors the relationship the two groups have enjoyed historically.  Go back to the Revolutionary Era or the early republic, and you will find that wealthy Americans led the colonies and states, wrote the Constitution, and dominated high office.  All throughout the nineteenth century, the line between public interest and private remained  suspiciously murky.  In fact, that a politician represented his own financial interest and that of his friends was taken more or less for granted; it was rarely viewed as criminal, certainly.

At present, however, the candidates’ attentiveness to wealth smacks of a politics of avoidance that is gripping the country.  For the people, indeed.  The candidates offer platitudes to a populace who are suffering, disillusioned, and angry, but it’s probably more fun to dine with the wealthy and promise to supply the things that they need.  Yet as long as the nation’s leading classes remain locked in this romantic tango, behind closed doors, a true economic recovery is unlikely to occur.

RELATED:
Susan Barsy, Mitt Romney as Exhibit A, Our Polity.
Julie Pace, What $40,000 Gets You in Presidential Fundraising, Yahoo/AP.

Before There Were Income Taxes

Drinking glass with McKinley's image and the motto "Protection and Plenty" (courtesy Cornell University Library via Flickr Commons)

Do you ever get the sense that there are forbidden topics in American politics?  If there are, I think one is the tariff and the costs of “free trade.”  (Another is the price of food, but I’m not going to write about that today.  Nor am I going to write about the relation between rising domestic gas prices and the export of our own oil and gas, which has recently reached an all-time high.)

No, my only topic today will be the tariff, not because it’s timely or explosive or even the slightest bit sexy, but because it’s been tugging at the edges of my attention lately.  And I’m going to indulge myself by writing about the tariff nostalgically, in my capacity as a citizen and an historian, not as a trade expert or an economist—because of course I’m neither of those things.  (If you’re fuzzy on what a tariff is, you may wish to read this.)

Recalling the tariff is important, because it was once a central element of US fiscal and trade policy.  Thinking about this now-forgotten source of federal revenue may free us to grapple with the budget woes confronting us more creatively.  But first, let me back up and locate my nostalgia in a specific situation—several situations, really, existing concurrently.

1. The Tax Man Cometh

Last month, the nice man who does our income taxes paid us a visit.  We had a nice lunch, then Bob and I handed off all the forms and papers he needed to take away.  It was a nice modern ritual.  It couldn’t have happened in the 19th century (except for a brief period in the 1860s—and there were no professional accountants then—), because the federal income tax was established permanently only in 1913.  Ever wonder how the federal government was funded before then?  By 1913, the US was 124 years old.

Tariffs are a big part of the answer.  From the nation’s founding until 1913, tariffs on goods imported into the US typically accounted for the bulk  (sometimes more than 90 percent) of the government’s revenue stream.  The remainder of its needs were met through excise taxes on goods such as whiskey.

2. Red-Ink Ricochet and the Mood of 2011

We live in a time of red ink, a condition that’s occasioned conflict and a fit of soul-searching.  The mood of 2011 was angry and irritated.  Occupy Wall Street, the strident clamor of the Tea Party, protracted and still unresolved quarrels in Congress over tax cuts and the debt ceiling: these events showed a nation under strain and increasingly divided along party and class lines.  At the heart of the buzz is a widespread conviction: we cannot continue on the same path we’ve been treading.  Our current fiscal policies cannot be sustained, we cannot continue along with more of the same.  As the federal deficit has spiraled, balancing the budget has come to seem an impossibility, the how of it becoming a vexatious topic to a population afflicted with high long-term unemployment and rising income inequality.

Given that the government lacks the will to cut spending, how do we come up with more black ink?  The red stuff is as pesky as the pink snow in The Cat in the Hat story.  We may shift our tax burdens around endlessly, but we’re not due for relief, at least not as long as internal taxation constitutes the US government’s principal revenue stream.

The tariff is germane to these meditations, because the mechanism of the tariff was used in the past to address a constellation of problems similar to those we confront today.

When the country was first founded, it occupied an inferior and economically vulnerable position.  The government was saddled with enormous debts accrued from fighting the Revolution.  Our fledgling economy, based primarily on agriculture and trade, was heavily dependent on more mature economies who actually made things.  Globally, industrial manufacturing was in its infancy, but a technology gap and America’s relative labor scarcity hampered our efforts to compete with Europe’s more rapidly industrializing powers, notably England.  Finally, to say that our population was averse to internal taxation was putting it mildly.  For all these reasons, the tariff became the backbone of government financing, a development that also created conditions under which a diversified economy could grow.

The government’s needs then were far more modest.  Yet, throughout the nineteenth century, protective tariffs were more than a great source of federal revenue.  They protected domestic manufacturing, fueling the development of a broad industrial base and abundant labor opportunities.  Indirectly, the tariff promoted conditions in which American laborers could mobilize politically and successfully push for fair wages and other labor standards that gradually improved their quality of life.

Which is not to say the tariff was without political controversy.  For every statesman like Henry Clay, who tirelessly championed tariffs and “home industry,” there was another like John Calhoun, who, when confronted with the Tariff of 1828 (the so-called “Tariff of Abominations“), argued that his state would be justified in striving to nullify and defy the federal law.  Tariffs benefited the more mercantile and industrial parts of the country, while imposing negative effects on those engaged in agriculture.  Each new tariff measure spurred hot debate; countless hours were spent arguing over tariff rates and the specific goods on which tariffs would be imposed.  Yet, despite these drawbacks, tariffs served the national interests of the United States admirably.  Above all, the tariff proved popular politically.

3: Handkerchiefs Spoke To Me

Evidence for this last point came to hand recently, in the form of political handkerchiefs made in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.  That’s right: political handkerchiefs.  They spoke to me.  And they might speak to you, too.

Textile touting the presidential candidacy of Benjamin Harrison (Courtesy Cornell University via Flickr Commons)

While trolling the internet for images to illustrate this post on party platforms, I stumbled on a trove of old political handkerchiefs preserved at Cornell University Library.  Dating mainly from the 1880s through the 1910s, these textiles bespeak the wild popularity of tariffs and “home industry.”

Political handkerchief from the 1888 Republican presidential campaign

Adorned with patriotic symbols and images of prosperity, woven on homespun in American mills, the artifacts suggest a dovetailing of political and economic interests that we think of as inevitably antagonistic.  Indeed, the protective tariff was a powerful political bond mitigating the conflicting interests of American labor and the captains of industry.

1888 Political handkerchief with flags and the words "Protection--Home Industries"

Interestingly, the Republican party was the champion of protectionism in those days.  The question for Republicans in the late 1800s was not whether there should be a tariff, but how high it should be.  In the election of 1888, the budgetary surplus resulting from tariff revenues had grown to be so large that it was something of an embarrassment for the party.  A theme of the election was whether to lower the tariff so that the government would not end up with funds it didn’t need.

Political textile with the slogan "True Blue Republican--Protection--Home Industries"

Despite some modification, the tariff remained a popular element of Republican ideology for at least two more decades.  Industrialists, workers, and politicians shared an interest in maintaining the tariff system, which imposed tax burdens on “the other guy”: those who wanted access to our markets, manufacturers and purveyors of goods from overseas.

Pro-protection handkerchief from Theodore Roosevelt's 1904 campaign (Courtesy Cornell University Library via Flickr Commons)

4. The limits of nostalgia

Back to the present: we live in an era of free trade.  By 1900, our economy had become vastly more productive.  We needed larger markets for the goods we made, the natural resources we harvested, and the crops we grew.  Gaining access to foreign markets has been America’s goal for a century, one integral to the global dominance that we’ve enjoyed.  Achieving this has entailed opening our own market to foreign goods and nearly eliminating the tariff protections American industry once knew.  The US is now party to many reciprocal and multilateral trade agreements, and our capacity to change the terms under which we trade is modulated by our participation in the World Trade Organization (WTO).  The tariff is a mere relic of the nineteenth century, and to write about it is to go against the grain of what we’ve become.

Yet, in the current climate of economic and political unease, Americans are re-examining the role of government and how its fiscal policies can be made a more perfect mirror of the people’s needs.  At such a moment, it may be fruitful to ponder the constructive role of the tariff and all that this alternative system of taxation enabled us to become.

All images in this post are courtesy of the
Susan H. Douglas Collection of Political Americana
at Cornell University Library.
You can visit its photostream here.

RELATED:
Susan Barsy, Bring Back The Platform!, Our Polity.
Ron Grossman, “Globalism and Its Discontents,” Chicago Tribune.
“The Rise of the Income Tax,” a succinct time-line by TurboTax, on view here.

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