Frederick Douglass
Our discussion at the end of class was especially intriguing, as we were beginning to grapple with the question of how to adjust our understanding of American identity in light of Douglass’ narrative. Taylor’s point that this tale reminds us not only that we’ve made mistakes in our national past, but also that we have the potential to remedy those mistakes, is an uplifting view. Democracy ought to be self-correcting, hence Obama’s allusion to the preamble to the Constitution: “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” This is an interesting twist on our discussion of utopian thinking in American culture. The Constitution – and Douglass’ narrative – help nudge us away from the idea of perfection as an immediate or obvious reality, suggesting instead that democracy is a state of imperfection that allows for perpetual self-correction. If we live by the Constitution, we are ever in search of improvement, never satisfied with the way things are, continually asking ourselves, “Who among us is still chained? Who among us has not drunk as deeply of liberty as the rest?”
There are many competing views of America, but it always strikes me as ironic that the views claiming to be the most patriotic are often the most hostile to self-examination. If we take the preamble to the Constitution as our guide, it seems we ought to approach our national identity with some humility. National pride need not be arrogant if it is mindful of past and present flaws and earnest about setting them right. Benjamin Franklin’s quest for self-improvement by measuring his daily behavior against his list of virtues seems an apt analogy.
We are living in a time when the beacons of hope that sustained former generations and fueled utopian thinking about American destiny seem dimmer. There is no New World beckoning to us, no literal frontier to be settled, no promise of infinite economic expansion. Our frontiers are metaphorical (technology, science, environment), and many of them are transnational. If our national identity depends on holding up America as the solitary exemplar of virtue and goodness in the world, then we are setting ourselves up for disappointment, because our flaws will seem to undermine our claims to greatness. If we understand our past and present with humility, facing the future with a desire for improvement rather than a stubborn defensiveness, we will be better positioned to collaborate within and without our borders to meet the challenges of our day.
Douglass’s conclusion to his Narrative is driven both by a sense of purpose and a feeling of humility. In part, this was driven by the social pressures of his time, as he sought (like Wheatley and Bradstreet) to transform the social power structure from within, rather than seeking to overthrow it. We hear in his parody of the hymn “Heavenly Union” a sharper tone than he allows himself in much of the narrative, which might remind us of the great restraint he shows in many of the earlier scenes. We ought not mistake his restraint for indifference; it is a strategy for achieving maximum impact, for maintaining a tone that invites the reader to listen and, in listening, to think both rationally and emotionally about the injustice of slavery.
These are Douglass’ closing words:
“Sincerely and earnestly hoping that this little book may do something toward throwing light on the American slave system, and hastening the glad day of deliverance to the millions of my brethren in bonds – faithfully relying upon the power of truth, love, and justice, for success in my humble efforts – and solemnly pledging my self anew to the sacred cause, – I subscribe myself, FREDERICK DOUGLASS” (1945).
When I think of Americans whom I most admire - exemplars of those personal characteristics toward which I aspire – Douglass stands among them as a self-made man who took control of his own future against incredible pressures. What most inspires me is his ability to speak both passionately and rationally. Garrison’s and Phillips’ prefatory letters, while designed to spark abolitionist fervor, seem less effective in this regard, as they simplify and vilify others without admitting any uncertainty, the way Paine’s “American Crisis” works the reader into a patriotic lather. Douglass avoids this pedantic approach by giving us scenes of true life, speaking from his own experience and often letting the reader draw her own conclusions. The result is an American narrative that reminds us of problems and promise, encouraging us to emulate its narrator in our quest of self-improvement and our search for a more perfect union.
