Originally Published Friday, April 9, 2004 in the Yale Daily News [here]
Since Brown University announced it was forming a committee to
investigate the institution's ties to slavery, questions about the role
and responsibility of academic institutions in slavery have forcefully
reentered the public vocabulary.
The Brown committee captured national headlines after university
president Ruth Simmons announced that Brown would embark on an
extensive two-year-long investigation of Brown's historic links to
slavery. In her charge to the committee, Brown president Ruth Simmons
urged scholars and students to examine the controversial subject
"rigorously and in detail," and not to worry about achieving consensus.
Yale, for its part, does not plan to pursue a similar investigation.
University President Richard Levin said Yale, unlike Brown,
satisfactorily dealt with the issue slavery's legacy two years ago when
the Law School sponsored a conference on the topic.
"I think they're two years behind us," Levin said.
Levin's comments highlight the contentious and controversial history of
Yale's efforts to grapple with a past that is inextricably linked to
slavery. The history of slavery investigation at Yale is more complex
than Levin's response would lead some to believe.
The 2002 conference was co-sponsored by Yale Law School and the Gilder
Lehrman Center for the Study of Slavery, Resistance and Abolition at
Yale, the only such center in the world.
The story of major public discussion of Yale's links to slavery began
over six years ago, with the founding of the center. But the issue
first came to widespread popular attention more recently. In the summer
of 2001, a group of three Yale graduate students published a paper
entitled, "Yale, Slavery and Abolition" that alleged that the
University had profited from the institution of slavery and that nine
of Yale's twelve residential colleges were named after supporters of
slavery.
In what was perhaps the report's most significant contribution, the
authors documented extensive evidence of racist, pro-slavery tendencies
in Samuel Morse, inventor of the telegraph and the man for whom Morse
College is named. Morse, the report pointed out, was created in 1962,
near the height of the Civil Rights movement.
The national press quickly picked up the story, and public scrutiny did
not escape the notice of students on campus. Soon after the article was
released, Dwight Hall considered changing its name in recognition of
the paper's discovery of evidence that allegedly proved former Yale
President Timothy Dwight's pro-slavery stances. In the end, students in
charge of Dwight Hall elected to keep the name, instead dedicating a
plaque, still in Dwight Hall today, condemning Dwight's stance on
slavery.
Several months after the paper's publication, however, historians began
questioning the historical accuracy of many of the report's assertions.
A month-long investigation by the News revealed that extensive support
for the paper was provided by Yale's unions. This discovery led many to
question the motivations of the report's authors, and provoked
accusations that the paper's authors had sacrificed historical
integrity in an effort to demonize the University as union contact
negotiations were set to begin.
University spokesman Tom Conroy echoed these concerns.
"I think that the context of the study was the upcoming labor
negotiations with Yale's unions and in that sense the study was similar
to other projects undertaken by the unions such as trying to attract
media attention to Yale's investments," Conroy said. "It was one of a
group of projects undertaken by the unions."
The paper's authors were not available to comment for this article.
David Davis, the director of the Gilder Lehrman Center, criticized the
paper at the time, noting the lack of historical context present in the
report. Still, Davis cautioned readers the subject itself is still
worthy of study.
"[The North's deep ties to slavery are] much worse than what the paper makes it out to be," Davis told the News in 2001.
Though few claim the initial report was factually perfect, some, like
Alfred Marder, president of the Amistad Committee that published the
report and author of the report's preface, think that the University's
strong reaction is misplaced.
"I don't think Yale should be playing hardball on this," Marder said.
"We just want an honest reexamination of the history. We are not
holding the current president or University leadership responsible."
University officials, however, do not regard Yale's response as
inadequate. Yale simply had to deal with a misleading report that
fueled a significant amount of popular controversy, they say.
Ultimately, and perhaps ironically, Yale responded to the call for
further investigation while pointing out the errors in the 2001 report.
Despite inaccuracies, the report functioned as an effective catalyst
for an in-depth appraisal of the role of slavery in New England, Davis
said. Though it was "superficial and controversial," the paper led the
University to host the conference in 2002.
The conference serves as the primary source of contention between
University officials who claim that the matter has been sufficiently
dealt with and activists who believe the conference was in no way
definitive.
Levin praised the conference.
"We had a conference that was quite successful. We discussed the
history of slavery [in the Connecticut area] so we can come to better
terms with our own past," Levin said. "We've had a lot of conversations
with people, with local leaders and African American leaders about this
legacy and have come to a common understanding."
For Owen Williams GRD '08, a member of the New Haven Reparations
Coalition who was present during the conference, the core issue of
Yale's involvement with, and responsibility for, its ties to slavery
was never adequately addressed or resolved.
"The conference had great intellectual merit, but it was a charade,"
Williams said. "The issue of Yale was only discussed once, and very
briefly." Williams has recently completed work on a paper outlining the
pro-slavery activity of John Calhoun, for whom Calhoun College was
named.
In the period from 2002 until Brown's decision to form an investigative
committee in early March of this year, there has been little publicized
activity related to Yale's links to slavery. The exact reasons for this
are varied and somewhat subject to speculation, but much of it stems
from the fact that Yale officials do not see a great pressing need for
the kind of action Brown is taking.
Davis said professors' research is highly individualized and subject to
personal interest, and outside a setting like the one Brown has
created, research will remain piecemeal. However, Davis does not
believe Brown's project should be directly applied to Yale.
"One has to separate the whole issue of slavery in the North from
particular questions about Yale," Davis said. "On the other hand, Brown
was founded by slave traders."
For Amistad's Marder, University silence on the issue stems from efforts to prioritize Yale's other concerns.
"People are faced with other issues," Marder said. "Yale's relations
with the city and Yale's relations with its workers have become so
overwhelming that Yale's put the issue on the back burner. But it won't
go away."
In more recent years, said John Campbell '80, the chairman of the Brown
committee, the debate over the history of slavery has been dominated by
concerns over reparations and the idea that something, monetarily
and/or symbolically, should be paid to the African American community
to atone for past sins.
"We need to engage with the complexity in a responsible way," Campbell
said. "Nobody knows how to have a conversation on this yet because
everyone wants to reduce it to a question of reparations so they don't
have to think."
It is, perhaps, this question of responsibility that remains the most
divisive and confusing in the effort to better understand Yale's
historic links to slavery. Take, for example, the oft-cited debate over
whether the name of Calhoun College should be changed.
What gaps exist between different parties become most clear when representatives offer illustrative analogies.
For Marder and others, changing Calhoun College's name is a question
similar to the recent debate in South Carolina over the removal of the
confederate flag from government property. The name's connection with
slavery is so strong, he argues, that it is offensive to African
Americans and should be removed.
For Vice President for Finance and Administration John Pepper, an
honorary co-chairman of the executive committee of the National
Underground Railroad Freedom Center, the point is to "not to change
college names anymore than you'd tear down the Jefferson Monument."
For Brown's Campbell, the question of symbolism and responsibility is
best represented by a grandfather clock. In the Brown University Dean's
office, Campbell said, there is an antique grandfather clock with a
plaque that mentions Admiral Esek Hopkins, a revolutionary war hero who
also captained voyages to Africa to collect slaves while on the payroll
of the Brown brothers.
"What do we do with the clock?" Campbell asked. "If we just burned the
clock, that would be foolish. But it would be equally foolish,
especially for a institution founded on the fearless pursuit of
knowledge, to not pursue the story behind the clock. We're going to
have a lot of grey."
Then there is the question of practicality. For Davis, the naming issue
must be tempered by recognition of the passing of time. Understanding
history, and how the Northern economy was connected to the slaveholding
South, is important.
"When I began teaching at Yale in 1970 we had an African American
Master of Calhoun, Charlie Davis, who found great delight in being 'the
Black Master of Calhoun!' So it gets complicated," Davis said in an
e-mail.
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