NOT THE LEAST REMARKABLE FACT ABOUT C. VANN WOODWARD'S Origins of New South is that, fifty years ago, Woodward knew better than to attempt what I have been asked to do: to discuss Afro-Americans as a subject apart from subjects of land, agriculture, and rural unrest; industrial development and political economy; class warfare, class alliances, and politics; and literature, sciences, and arts, that have occupied symposium thus far. Then (as now), more usual procedure was to relegate Afro-Americans to a space of their own, defined as and set apart from study of history properly so called. Woodward never fell into that trap. He understood that importance of Jim Crow as a subject in way established its validity as a method. Never at any point in Origins is Woodward unaware of Afro-Americans' entire implication within vital questions of New South. Meaningless definitions of their predicament that may pass muster today, such as marginalization and exclusion, did not fool him for a minute. (Marginalized? Excluded? When planters wanted nothing better than for them to stay conspicuously in their place, working as before?) The opening sentence of chapter I sets tone at once (and with as fine an example as I know of Woodward's flair for mischief). Right there, where one can miss it, he writes, Any honest genealogy of ruling family of Southern Democrats would reveal a strain of mixed blood. (1) The mixture in question was of Whig and Democrat, rather than of black and white. But, beyond doubt, metaphor was calculated. Trifling with hallowed conventions of racism by thus juxtaposing sacred and profane--ruling-class genealogy and mixed blood--Woodward serves early notice that, in method as in content, Origins of New South will neither fear nor respect color line. Though he may flirt occasionally with language of race relations, he only rarely makes concessions to its conceptual apparatus. (2) Race relations as an analysis of society takes for granted that race is a valid empirical datum and thereby shifts attention from actions that constitute racism--enslavement, disfranchisement, segregation, lynching, massacres, and pogroms--to traits that constitute race. For racists in New South, those traits might have included Negroes' ignorance, laziness, brutality, criminality, subjection to uncontrolled passions, or incapacity for moral and intellectual duties of civilization. For scholars in our own time who accept race, once ritually purified by incantation socially constructed, as a valid category of analysis, relevant traits are more likely to be difference, Other-ness, culture, or identity. Either way, however, objective acts, real substance of racism, take second place to subjective traits, fictive substance of race; traits that would be irrelevant to explaining racist acts even if their empirical validity could be established. Quincy Ewing, a white southerner writing in Atlantic Monthly while Woodward was an infant, refuted on empirical grounds various racial explanations of problem: Negroes' purported ignorance, laziness, criminality, and like. But such rationales, he maintained, were beside point in any case. The problem would persist even were there no shadow of excuse for conviction that Negro is more lazy, or more ignorant, or more criminal, or more brutal, or more anything else he ought not to be, or less anything else he ought to be, than other men. Nor, according to Ewing, could problem be laid to difference (an old favorite that has returned to favor in recent scholarship, often graced with a capital D): There is nothing in unlikeness of unlike that is necessarily problematical, he pointed out; it may be simply accepted and dealt with as a fact, like any other fact. (3) Like or unlike, Ewing declared, race problem arises unless the people of one race are minded to adopt and act upon some policy more or less oppressive or repressive in dealing with people of another race. …
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