Wilson tells us from the start that “to grasp the central issues, it is necessary to be steeped in a particular intellectual tradition” (p. 5). He has “the Southern conservative intellectual tradition” in mind. He doesn’t tell us why we must be “steeped” in that tradition. Instead, Wilson notes a deep hostility among some critics of this tradition and suspects no amount of argumentation will get through to them. We all know critics like that, don’t we? But it seems, those critics notwithstanding, Wilson has perhaps put himself in the lamentable position of preaching only to the choir of the Southern conservative intellectual tradition. He may be putting the pertinent facts and events outside the “grasp” of people from other traditions. That bias significantly limits the usefulness of this book.

 
During my days of touring college campuses to hear men like Molefi Asante, Yosef ben Jochanon, Ivan van Sertima, Naim Akbar, and Wade Nobles wax poetic about Africentrism, African history, and the need for a genuinely multicultural American society, it was commonplace to argue that history was his story (lower case ‘h’). So much of what makes it into print in the widely published and standard texts, we were told, was written from the vantage point of white western elites who knew little of the peoples and cultures of Africa. We studiously took our place in the narrative wars of history and counter-history. Not only is one man’s terrorist another man’s freedom fighter, but it turns out that one man’s conspiracy theorist is another man’s historian.

I’m reminded of all this reading many of the comments and responses in the threads to these posts on Black and Tan. Many have questioned Wilson’s history of the American South, and others have fired back with facts and quotes in defense of that view. Every quote is met with a counter-quote, and on it goes. It sometimes looks like the amateur historian’s version of the preacher’s weak proof text (which is sometimes really a pretext for an a priori position).

In an earlier post, I thought we might be able to skip any discussion of the underlying history involved. I thought that because Wilson and I hold very similar views of the biblical texts, their priority, and their implications. I was hoping for some progress on biblical grounds, since we both think that’s precisely the ground at stake and the ground upon which Christians should stand. But, it seems a few general remarks about history and about Black and Tan‘s history are warranted.

An Appreciation

Let me begin with an appreciation. I’m grateful for Wilson’s defense of the generalist historian. Wilson understands that there’s no way to be a good pastor without having at least a general grip on history—secular and redemptive. He writes, “Historical laymen should read broadly enough to make sure they are not reading some truncated account or other, but neither should they be embarrassed by the necessity of popularizing the material” (pp. 8-9). I agree with this sentiment entirely. I join with Wilson in both appreciating the necessary role specialists play while affirming that all us non-specialists have a stake and role in telling the story as well. After all, good history has to be our story too.

Some Concerns with Black and Tan‘s Approach to History

But having said that, the “history” assumed in Black and Tan does provoke a few concerns. These concerns need to be touched upon because our view of what happened shapes our view of who we are, what is, and what ought to be. Again, Wilson and I agree: If we get the past wrong we’re likely to get every subsequent thing wrong, also. So to avoid that domino effect, we need to give attention to historical method.

From my perspective, Black and Tan is lacking in four ways.

First, Black and Tan is not history. The book makes claims about history, but it’s not a presentation or exposition of history in any sense that I could recognize. Now, I realize that Black and Tan is in many ways Wilson’s apologetic for Slavery As It Was—a work I have not read but understand to have presented more history than Black and Tan. Perhaps Wilson allows himself the convenience of not restating the arguments of Slavery As It Was. But the consequence, as he puts it, is a book with “an ad-hoc, ragtaggy feel” (p. 119). In my reading, that “feel” is felt most where historical claims are in view.

It’s difficult to offer a critique of the history since there’s no clear substantive historical basis to the book. For example, Wilson writes that “it is necessary to get clear on the nature of American slavery, which was not what it’s abolitionist opponents claimed for it” (p. 4). But he doesn’t give us either a sustained critique of abolitionist claims or a sustained argument for a different view. That being the case, readers of the book who take seriously the book’s claims about the nature of Southern slavery or the South in general are at least going to have to do a lot of homework themselves or at worst be prone to making serious mistakes in understanding the who, why, and what of contemporary society. We have to be careful here. How can we with intellectual integrity take the premise of Slavery as It Was as true without its doing anything to overturn the eyewitness testimony in American Slavery as It Is: Testimony of a Thousand Witnesses, for example? I chuckled at the amazing similarity of the titles. Then I thought to myself, What makes one title more reliable than the other? Until Wilson offers a substantive history, I’m afraid the burden of proof rests with him against eyewitness testimony.

Second, Black and Tan attempts historical revision. Wilson knows that “History is storytelling” and “Faithful history is faithful storytelling” (p. 8). But he’s concerned that the storytelling regarding American slavery and the South haven’t been all that faithful. He knows that facts matter, that “we… read the story with our loyalties intact,” and “Humility is hard” (p. 9). Wilson rightly maintains that “Objectivity is a false god” (p. 10), that “Some historians sin through hagiography and others sin through debunking” (p. 11), that it’s possible that “after about a hundred years or so, [political correctness] turns into historical correctness” (p. 11), and that “Proud ignorance is no better than proud knowledge” (p. 12). I take this to mean Wilson understands how fraught with complexity and pitfalls writing and re-writing history can be.

But he contends that the established narrative about slavery and the Civil War needs revising at critical points lest we misunderstand ourselves and our present cultural battles. “Some of the things that we think are slam-dunk certainties will almost certainly turn out not to be” (p. 10). Central to the book’s thesis and Wilson’s logic is the notion that “antebellum slavery was the normal kind of sinful situation” rather than “Apocalyptic Evil” (p. 4). In defense of Slavery as It Was, Wilson writes, “It was the contention of this booklet that the way in which slavery ended has had ongoing deleterious consequences for modern Christians in our current culture wars, and that slavery was far more benign in practice than it was made to appear in the literature of the abolitionists” (p. 14; emphasis added). That’s a massive claim.

Read More