What Price Wholeness?
Shennette Garrett-Scott
<https://www-nybooks-com.ezproxy.cul.columbia.edu/contributors/shennette-garrett-scott/>
A detailed new proposal for reparations for slavery raises three
critical questions: How much, exactly, does America owe? Where will the
money come from? And who gets paid?
NY Review of Books, February 11, 2021 issue
<https://www-nybooks-com.ezproxy.cul.columbia.edu/issues/2021/02/11/>
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Reviewed:
From Here to Equality: Reparations for Black Americans in the
Twenty-First Century <https://www.bookshop.org/a/312/9781469654973>
by William A. Darity Jr. and A. Kirsten Mullen
University of North Carolina Press, 416 pp., $28.00
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Benny Andrews Estate/The Studio Museum in Harlem/© Licensed by VAGA at
Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
Benny Andrews:/Trash/, 1971. A selection of his work is on view in
‘Benny Andrews: Portraits, A Real Person Before the Eyes,’ an exhibition
at Michael Rosenfeld Gallery, New York City, September 26, 2020–January
23, 2021.
“Are you sure, sweetheart, that you want to be well?” asks the healer
Minnie Ransom in Toni Cade Bambara’s 1980 novel/The Salt Eaters/, set in
Georgia in the 1970s. “Just so’s you’re sure, sweetheart, and ready to
be healed, cause wholeness is no trifling matter.” Minnie is speaking to
her friend Velma Henry, who has suffered a severe mental and physical
breakdown. Velma is a deeply committed and indefatigable African American
civil rights activist, wife, and mother, but incessant meetings,
disappointing fundraisers, and protests met with violence and mass
arrests have left her exhausted, disillusioned, and enraged. Near the
beginning of the novel, she attempts suicide. Minnie asks Velma the same
question in different ways throughout the novel, prompting Velma to
reflect on what it would take for her to feel complete while confronting
multiple forms of oppression. The question is simple, and yet it holds
within it a radical potential: an understanding of justice as healing,
as both individual and collective, as something beyond mere survival.
William A. Darity Jr. and A. Kirsten Mullen don’t begin/From Here to
Equality: Reparations for Black Americans in the Twenty-First
Century/with quite so coy a question, but they share with Minnie Ransom
a vision of radical justice: to heal the United States of centuries of
racial trauma. Darity, a professor of public policy at Duke, is an
economist whose prolific writings focus on ethnicity, race, and
inequality. Mullen is a folklorist, the founder of both Artefactual, an
arts consulting practice, and the Carolina Circuit Writers, a “literary
consortium that brings expressive writers of color to the Carolinas.”
She has worked with museums and other public history sites, for instance
helping to develop the National Museum of African American History and
Culture in Washington, D.C.
Darity and Mullen lay out a history of America’s failures to live up to
its democratic ideals and its long record of state-sanctioned violence
against and exploitation of African Americans. The early section of
their book outlines a history of the reparations movement and tentative
precedents to recompense African Americans for racist violence and
exclusion after emancipation. Its lengthy midsection outlines a
self-described political history of the United States, beginning with
the institutionalization of chattel slavery, which turned people into
property and stripped Black people of their humanity. Racial inequities
have endured long after the formal end of slavery; its legacies persist
to the present day. Finally, in the last two chapters, Darity and Mullen
present a blueprint for “a just and fair America”: a detailed plan for
calculating and administering reparations.
The most basic definition of “reparations” is payment to make up for a
past wrong. When invoked as a mechanism of redress for American slavery,
the word ignites passionate responses from advocates and critics alike.
Darity and Mullen propose a “portfolio of reparations” that includes a
mix of monetary payments, public services, and education. The monetary
aspect is crucial from the first line of their book, an opening salvo as
much as a statement of fact: “Racism and discrimination have perpetually
crippled black economic opportunities.”
Darity and Mullen trace the movement for reparations from the end of the
Civil War, describing freedmen and freedwomen as “the nation’s earliest
architects of reparations.” Freedpeople demanded land to provide for
their families and as compensation for generations of unpaid labor.
Other demands included pensions for former slaves and refunds of
millions of dollars in lost bank deposits following the 1874 closure of
the Freedman’s Savings and Trust Bank, better known as the Freedman’s
Bank, due to mismanagement by its white trustees and employees.
In 1898 a seamstress named Callie House helped to form the National
Ex-Slave Mutual Relief, Bounty, and Pension Association (NEMRBPA) in
Nashville. House traveled the country to speak about reparations for
slavery, attracting hundreds of thousands to the movement. In 1915,
after Congress rejected several of her petitions, she sued the federal
government. Her suit set the government’s debt for slavery at $68
million (about $2 billion in modern-day dollars
), a figure based on federal taxes collected on cotton in the 1860s. As
her cause gained momentum, the government responded with repressive
tactics; the Federal Pension Bureau and US Post Office, for example,
denied mail service to theNEMRBPA. In 1916 House was convicted on
dubious charges of mail fraud and imprisoned for a year.NEMRBPAbranches
continued lobbying for reparations into the 1920s.
The period from the late 1910s to the early 1920s brought racial
violence that reached its bloody peak in the “Red Summer” and fall of
1919, when white mob violence erupted in more than two dozen cities and
towns across the country. White mobs murdered and attacked thousands of
Black people and destroyed (and stole) millions of dollars of Black
people’s property. Subsequent court testimony, House Judiciary Committee
hearings, and state-commissioned reports revealed the extent of the
damage. A seven-hundred-page report by the Chicago Commission on Race
Relations, for instance, recognized long-standing prejudice, police
aggression against the Black community, and media manipulation of racial
tensions as being ultimately responsible for the Chicago riot of 1919.
The report also documented extreme economic disparities between white
and Black Chicagoans. “Our Negro problem, therefore, is not of the
Negro’s making,” it concluded. No state entity, however, went as far as
to offer compensation to Black victims or their families.
Marcus Garvey, the charismatic nationalist leader of the Universal Negro
Improvement Association (UNIA), emerged after World War I as an
outspoken advocate for building a separate Black nation. He was, like
Callie House, convicted of mail fraud and sentenced to five years in
prison. In September 1923 at New York’s Liberty Hall, while awaiting
appeal, Garvey demanded that the United States, Great Britain, and other
European countries
hand back to us “our own civilization.” Hand back to us that which
you have robbed and exploited us of in the name of God and
Christianity for the last 500 years…. And if you will not hear the
voice of a friend crying out in the wilderness to hand back those
things, then, remember, one day you will find, marching down the
avenue of time, 400,000,000 Black men and women ready to give up
even the last drop of their blood for the redemption of their
motherland, Africa!
In 1927 the federal government deported Garvey to Jamaica, where he had
been born. He died in 1940, but his message of self-determination
continued to reverberate long after his death.
In 1955 the longtimeUNIAmember Queen Mother Audley Moore founded in New
York City the Reparations Committee of Descendants of US Slaves. Moore
presented a petition for reparations to the UN Human Rights Commission
in 1959 that outlined the United States’ violations of African
Americans’ human rights. The petition demanded land and payment for
those violations. In 1962 she filed a lawsuit against the federal
government on behalf of 25 million African Americans. Her suit sought
$500 trillion in damages for slavery. Moore advocated for reparations
until her death in 1997.
Moore’s activism dovetailed with the efforts of a chorus of Black
churches, civic organizations, and communities during the civil rights
and Black Power movements that pressed for reparations. Well-known
leaders in these movements, including Malcolm X and Martin Luther King
Jr., spoke out. In Malcolm’s speeches and in his posthumous book/By Any
Means Necessary/, he demanded that the federal government financially
sustain a new, separate Black nation for twenty-five years, echoing
Garveyism but also nodding to Black nationalist movements going as far
back as the eighteenth century. He cited billions of dollars of aid paid
to Latin America and European countries as an example of the US’s
political will to help other nations—and he cited three hundred years of
US slavery.
In his 1963 essay and then 1964 book,/Why We Can’t Wait/, King observed
that even if a figure to recompense centuries of unpaid labor could be
calculated, “No amount of gold could provide an adequate compensation
for the exploitation and humiliation of the Negro in America down
through the centuries.” King proposed a broad-based federal program and
payments to eradicate poverty. While not a full-throated call for
reparations,/Why We Can’t Wait/noted the pervasive and damaging
long-term effects of slavery and racist discrimination.
The Republic of New Afrika (RNA), founded in 1968, put forth plans to
create a separate nation-state within the continental US and sought $400
billion in damages for the violence and exploitation inflicted on
African Americans. TheRNArepresented a group of activists who demanded
that five southern states—Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, and
South Carolina—be set aside for African Americans to establish the first
district of New Afrika. In 1987 Imari Obadele, the longtime president of
the group, and the lawyer and activist Adjoa Aiyetoro founded one of the
most important organizations devoted to reparations: the National
Coalition of Blacks for Reparations in America (N’COBRA). Similar to
Callie House’s Ex-Slave Association,N’COBRAprovides a formal
organizational structure that knits together the decentralized
reparations movement into a more cohesive effort.N’COBRAchapters spread
across the United States, Great Britain, and parts of Africa.
In 1989 Democratic congressman John Conyers introduced H.R. 40, which
called for the creation of a commission to study the legacies of slavery
and develop reparations proposals. Conyers reintroduced the bill in
Congress every year for nearly three decades. After he resigned his seat
in 2017, Representative Sheila Jackson Lee became its lead sponsor.
Senator Cory Booker of New Jersey is the lead sponsor of S. 1083, a
Senate version of the House bill.
The reparations movement had achieved some successes by the last decade
of the twentieth century, albeit limited ones. In 1994, responding to
demands from the descendants of victims of the 1923 Rosewood Massacre,
in which hundreds of whites killed an unknown number of Blacks and
burned their Florida community to the ground, the state legislature
approved a $2 million settlement and established a scholarship fund for
those able to document direct lineage to a Black resident of Rosewood in
1923. State commissions formed to study the Wilmington Riot of 1898 and
the Tulsa Race War of 1921 recommended payments to descendants of these
racial pogroms, but neither the North Carolina nor the Oklahoma
legislature has made any.
The movement has a slightly better record when demands for achieving
reparations extend beyond recompense for white mob violence. In
1999/Pigford/v/. Glickman/, a class-action lawsuit against the US
Department of Agriculture, detailed decades of racial discrimination
inUSDAprograms, such asUSDAofficials creating unnecessary delays in
credit applications and outright denying loans that led directly to the
loss of millions of acres of land. The courts awarded a $1.25 billion
judgment. After a series of follow-up lawsuits, farmers and farm
collectives began receiving monetary awards in 2013. The courts, then,
looked like a promising arena in which to pursue reparations demands.
In the early 2000s advocates turned their attention to major
corporations with links to profits from slavery, including the
investment bank Lehman Brothers, the textile producer WestPoint Stevens,
the insurance company New York Life, the mass-media conglomerate
Gannett, and the railroad companyCSX. The suits raised public awareness
but didn’t result in monetary settlements. Incomplete records and
multiple layers of corporate acquisitions, for example, made it very
difficult to trace direct links to slavery profits. Defendants argued
that slavery was legal at the time and that profiting from the
institution, while morally reprehensible to contemporary sensibilities,
was not then illegal.
Commission investigations into racially motivated violence and court
cases that highlighted direct links to profits from slavery pricked some
consciences. By the mid-2010s nine state legislatures had issued
apologies for the part their states played in slavery and segregation.
The US Senate and House of Representatives issued formal apologies for
slavery in 2009, but they neither admitted financial culpability nor
mentioned possible recompense.
Five years after Congress’s apology, the journalist Ta-Nehisi Coates
published an essay in/The Atlantic/, “The Case for Reparations,” that
galvanized national attention. In 2019 Coates and others testified
before a House Judiciary subcommittee about H.R. 40. The hearing
represented the most significant congressional consideration the bill
had received in thirty years. The largest and oldest reparations
advocacy organizations in the world—N’COBRA, the Caribbean Community and
Common Market, and the National African American Reparations
Commission—testified. More than one hundred human rights organizations,
including theACLU, Human Rights Watch, and the Japanese American
Citizens League, signed a letter to congressional leaders urging the
bill’s passage.
For Darity and Mullen, these attempts, so often tentative and isolated,
have been dismal—hardly enough to address large-scale needs. Nothing
short of “congressional action,” they write, will “ensure the provision
of coverage and amounts of monies that meet the magnitude of the just
claim.” But they are encouraged by recent political discussions about
reparations during the 2018 midterm elections and 2020 presidential
primaries./From Here to Equality/went to press before the Biden/Harris
ticket had even been nominated, but on Biden’s campaign website, under
the heading “Lift Every Voice: The Biden Plan for Black America,” he
pledged to study the issue if he became president. Now he will have that
chance.
Darity and Mullen’s book comes, then, at a propitious moment. Moved by
global Black Lives Matter protests during the summer of 2020, large
cities such as Los Angeles and New York City have shifted funds from
police budgets to education and other socially responsive efforts.
Multinational corporations including Bank of America, Pepsi, and Apple
have pledged millions for racial justice. Other corporations,
nonprofits, and state and municipal governments have publicly announced
financial commitments to address systemic racism. Important, too, is the
growing body of scholarly work detailing the structural effects and
personal costs of racist practices and violence, including, but not
limited to, lynching, forced sterilization, redlining, slum clearance,
mass incarceration, and police brutality. These efforts—some of them
significant gestures while others are more furtive—signal that a serious
conversation about large-scale reparations may be on the horizon.
I use “signal” here to reflect my guarded optimism. I wonder: Who makes
decisions about how these dollars are spent? Who sets the priorities?
More important, who benefits? New doubts and old questions remind us
again of the complexities of repaying moral debts. And moral debts need
to be paid. Apologies, commemorations, and plans go only so far. To be
of any consequence, racial justice should be tied to thick folds of
currency and the peal of hard coin.
Darity and Mullen would agree. In their estimation, the racial wealth
gap is far more than the difference in dollars and cents between the
haves and the have-nots. They forcefully argue that it represents “/the
most robust indicator of the cumulative economic effects of white
supremacy in the United States/” (emphasis in original). Accounting for
the gap extends beyond a monetary figure. The gap translates to
significant differences in well-being, in the very quality of a person’s
life.ARC—“acknowledgment, redress, and closure”—argue Darity and Mullen,
must also accompany any rigorous calculus of restitution and atonement
for African Americans. The authors understand that the business of
reckoning extends beyond writing a check, but a check must first mediate
any negotiation between, in their words, the “wronged and the wrongdoers.”
After their lengthy recounting of US history and the history of
reparations, Darity and Mullen present and dismantle several objections
to reparations, ranging from obvious, reactionary questions to more
thoughtful concerns. For example, in response to the claim that “/Blacks
already have received reparations from affirmative action/,” they
outline the limitations of such programs, explaining that the benefits
of affirmative action accrue to an elite few, unlike reparations, which
represent “an instrument for racial transformation.” To charges that
paying reparations “/perpetuates a crippling psychology of victimization
among blacks/,” they remind readers that interpersonal, institutional,
and structural racism are responsible for Black peoples’ trauma—not an
inherent, “alleged victimization mentality.”
In the last chapter of/From Here to Equality/,//Darity and Mullen offer
their detailed proposal for reparations, which shares some features with
the Reparations Superfund, spelled out in James Forman’s 1969 “Black
Manifesto” (corporations would endow the fund, and its resources would
be allocated to initiatives in education, health care, crime prevention,
and arts development) andN’COBRA’s reparations plan, which includes
material reparations (such as cash payments and funding for
repatriation), symbolic reparations (the creation of monuments and
museums), and the elimination of discriminatory laws and practices.
Darity and Mullen’s proposal raises at least three critical questions:
How much does America owe? Where will the money come from? And who gets
paid? They highlight several possible ways to calculate the ultimate
amount owed, including one based on a Confederate States of America
figure setting the value in 1860 of enslaved people in the South at $4
billion (about $68 billion in modern-day dollars). They present the work
of various historians and economists who arrive at figures as low as $14
billion and as high as $111 trillion.
These scholars’ reckonings derive from different interest-rate
calculations on various valuations, including historical data such as
profits from slave labor or unpaid wages; the value of diverted land,
income, or employment discrimination; and differences in
twenty-first-century per capita income. These calculations routinely
disregard the humanity behind the figures being computed in ways that
raise bile to my throat. Imagine: bread and medicine considered as
expenses in the same way as coal for an engine or needles for an
industrial sewing machine would be. These monetary figures, however, are
one way to fathom the practical, if not the symbolic, value of slavery
to the making of this country. For Darity and Mullen, most of these
figures still fall short of capturing the full legacies of slavery and
the contemporary effects of systemic racism.
Darity and Mullen are emphatic that the contemporary racial wealth gap
represents the most important indicator of both the historical and the
present-day harm to African Americans. They offer two possible
inflation-adjusted figures that capture the size of the gap: $7.95
trillion and $10.7 trillion, which represents a direct payment of
$795,000 each to an estimated 10 million African American households and
a $267,000 payment to 40 million eligible African American individuals,
respectively. It is important to stress that these figures reflect
direct payments to individuals outside of endowments and funds earmarked
for other initiatives in the portfolio of reparations they propose,
which includes opening museums, support for historically Black colleges
and universities, venture funds for Black businesses, and a minimum
ninety-year educational program similar to the one proposed by
WeRemember for victims of the Holocaust and their descendants.
To the second big question—where will the money come from?—Darity and
Mullen frustrate this reader. They state that “many effective options
for financing a program of black reparations” exist but then offer few
details about the three possibilities presented: issuing new money,
increasing government borrowing, or creating new taxes. They are clear,
however, about who should raise and oversee administration of the funds:
the US Congress. Congress is best situated, they argue, to conduct the
critical research, generate political will, build public support, and
create the infrastructure required for an effective reparations program.
Corporations, universities, institutions, and even descendants of
enslavers can certainly contribute to a reparations fund, but reliance
on these entities to bear the brunt of the financial responsibility
constitutes what Darity and Mullen describe as a “laissez-faire
or/piecemeal/” effort: “We are not concerned about personal guilt; we
are concerned with national responsibility.”
Regarding the last big question—who gets reparations?—Darity and Mullen
outline three main requirements. First, eligible claimants must be US
citizens, and then meet two more criteria: proven relation to at least
one ancestor enslaved in the United States and self-identification as
African American at least twelve years before the establishment of the
congressional reparations commission. Having checked “Black” or “African
American” on any official, government-issued document, including the
census, will satisfy as proof of racial self-identification.
To be sure, elements of this plan are likely to raise eyebrows as well
as hackles among those critical, questioning, or even supportive of
reparations. Space prevents me from parsing every concern, so I will
focus on one: Darity and Mullen’s definition of “the wronged” who
deserve reparations. They use the racial identifiers “African American”
and “Black” interchangeably, but the differences they mark aren’t merely
stylistic choices. The “American” in “African American” really matters
to the authors. Only US citizens with genealogical ties to enslaved
people who labored in the United States count. Their requirement that
only these African Americans receive reparations represents perhaps the
most contentious element of their proposal.
Darity and Mullen reject the notion that the experiences of
Afro-Caribbeans and other Blacks across the Diaspora living in the
United States are “synonymous [with] the experience of…African
Americans.” Their contention that “/voluntary/immigrants to the United
States” (emphasis in original) make a conscious choice to live in a
country that has benefited from racism means that these groups assume
the debt their adopted country owes. The logic here is troubling on many
levels, not the least of which is the assumption that immigrants don’t
suffer racism and other forms of discrimination in the United States.
Darity and Mullen try to smooth over the nativist implications by adding
that reparations encompass collective, national redemption rather than
individual, specific guilt.
<https://cdn-nybooks-com.ezproxy.cul.columbia.edu/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/garrett_2-021121.jpg>
Emma Amos/Philadelphia Museum of Art/Ryan Lee Gallery, New York
Emma Amos:/American Girl/, 1974; from ‘Emma Amos: Color Odyssey,’ an
exhibition at the Georgia Museum of Art, January 30–April 25, 2021
The most serious flaw in limiting the deserving groups is that the
authors’ plan ignores the history of enslavement in the United States,
which extended to the Caribbean. The practice of slavery in both places
was intimately bound together, even after the US won its independence
from Britain. Darity and Mullen also ignore the aspects of slavery,
particularly white supremacy and anti-Blackness, that animated
twentieth-century US imperialism in the Caribbean, Latin America, and
the Pacific. The Howard University historian Ana Lucia
Araujo’s/Reparations for Slavery and the Slave Trade: A Transnational
and Comparative History/(2017) is an excellent companion to/From Here to
Equality/. Araujo details not only the centuries-long history of
African-descended enslaved people’s fight for reparations in the United
States but also the closely entwined relationship of US slavery with
other parts of the world. True reparative justice must contend with the
transnational legacies of slavery and with the centuries-long demands
for reparations in the United States and throughout the world.
Darity and Mullen root their history of reparations after the Civil War,
but the true starting point begins centuries before. From the moment
enslaved Africans first set foot in the Americas, they grasped their own
economic, political, and cultural value, and many early slaves were
already thinking about what was owed to them for past labor. Indeed,
during the Revolutionary era, enslaved people underlined their actual
bondage, distinguishing it from the figurative British shackles the
founding generation sought to shake off. Enslaved people’s freedom
petitions to colonial legislatures traced the same longing for liberty
as that of their disgruntled enslavers.
Some of these Revolutionary-era petitions acknowledged the economic
stakes of liberty. In April 1773 a committee of four enslaved men in
Boston speaking on “behalf of our fellow slaves” began their collective
entreaty by flattering white legislators for their bravery and wisdom:
The efforts made by the legislative [/sic/] of this province in
their last sessions to free themselves from slavery, gave us, who
are in that deplorable state, a high degree of satisfaction. We
expect great things from men who have made such a noble stand
against the designs of their fellow-men to enslave them.
They comprehended the economic consequences of their petition and
preempted the possible objections of legislators, some of whom were
enslavers and most of whom derived some part of their livelihood from
the business of slavery. The enslaved people wrote, “We are very
sensible that it would be highly detrimental to our present masters, if
we were allowed to demand all that of right belongs to us for past
services; this we disclaim.” In rejecting reparations, these writers
revealed a canny understanding of the marketplace of revolution, to
borrow a term from the historian T.H. Breen: they showed that they were
aware of their value and the concessions they could legitimately demand,
yet they were willing to forgo reparations not because they didn’t think
they deserved them, but to strike a shrewd bargain for their liberty.
Understandably, then, reparations’ accounting begins in enslavement.
Mercantilist dreams and later capitalist realities commodified every
part of enslaved peoples’ bodies and lives—including their lives before
birth and after death. At every step of the trade’s supply chain,
clerks, factors, merchants, enslavers, and other interested parties
assessed the present and future value of slaves, as Daina Ramey Berry
describes in her aptly titled book/The Price for Their Pound of
Flesh/(2017).
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