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Not Even Past

This Is Democracy: Ukraine

This week, Jeremi and Zachary are joined by guest Dr. Michael Kimmage to discuss The Russo-Ukrainian War.

Zachary sets the scene with his poem entitled, “A Year After the War Began.”

Guest

Dr. Michael Kimmage is a professor of history at the Catholic University of America in Washington DC. He is also a fellow at the German Marshall Fund, and chair of the Advisory Council for the Kennan Institute at the Woodrow Wilson Center in Washington DC. From 2014 to 2017, Kimmage served on the Secretary’s Policy Planning Staff at the U.S. Department of State, where he held the Russia/Ukraine portfolio. He publishes widely on international affairs, U.S.-Russian relations and American diplomatic history. Kimmage is the author of: The Conservative Turn: Lionel Trilling, Whittaker Chambers and the Lessons of Anti-Communism (2009); In History’s Grip: Philip Roth’s Newark Trilogy (2012); The Abandonment of the West: The History of an Idea in American Foreign Policy (2020). He writes frequently for Foreign Affairs and other major publications.

About This Is Democracy

The future of democracy is uncertain, but we are committed to its urgent renewal today. This podcast will draw on historical knowledge to inspire a contemporary democratic renaissance. The past offers hope for the present and the future, if only we can escape the negativity of our current moment — and each show will offer a serious way to do that! This podcast will bring together thoughtful voices from different generations to help make sense of current challenges and propose positive steps forward. Our goal is to advance democratic change, one show at a time. Dr. Jeremi Suri, a renowned scholar of democracy, will host the podcast and moderate discussions.


The views and opinions expressed in this article or video are those of the individual author(s) or presenter(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policy or views of the editors at Not Even Past, the UT Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin, or the UT System Board of Regents. Not Even Past is an online public history magazine rather than a peer-reviewed academic journal. While we make efforts to ensure that factual information in articles was obtained from reliable sources, Not Even Past is not responsible for any errors or omissions.

Filed Under: Watch & Listen

In Pursuit of Europe: An Interview with Anthony Pagden (Part II)

Banner for In Pursuit of Europe: An Interview with Anthony Pagden (part 2)

This is the second half of a two-part article. To read the first part, click here.

Anthony Pagden is a Distinguished Professor in the History Department at the University of California-Los Angeles. England-born and Oxford-trained, but based on the West Coast of the United States, he is emotionally and intellectually invested in the idea of Europe–that is, in the coherent continentalism that is also the current project of the European Union. This is also, in his case, the continent-wide project of liberal democracy that must respond convincingly to the still-unfurling disappointment of Brexit. Pagden addresses this project in relation to a new book, The Pursuit of Europe: A History (2022). This work is connected with an edited collection of essays, The Idea of Europe: From Antiquity to the European Union (2002). Both works cover vast time spaces and aspire to lofty goals, encompassing perhaps more continuities than discontinuities. Pagden remains to this day a committed representative of the British school of international thought, and he defends the validity of a history of ideas “from above.”

Earlier this year, Pagden sat down for an interview with Fernando Gomez Herrero, an historian based at the University of London’s Birkbeck College. In conversation with Gomez Herrero, he grappled with questions such as: how does a political configuration such as Europe come into being? How does it overcome enmities and divisions? What type of internationalism does it embrace? What are its limits? And whom do those limits classify as “others”?

EDITOR’S NOTE: The following interview has been lightly edited for clarity’s sake.

Fernando Gomez Herrero: “Europe” can serve as a short-form name for the European Union, for the U.S.’s European allies, for a portion of the “liberal West.” But what appeals to you about Europe is that it stands above the nation-state. You want to cover a continental spatialization. Why? What is ticking at the core of your project? Is it about pursuing an ideal? Is that what makes you broaden your horizons?

Anthony Pagden: Yes. It is a conception of a fantasy, if you like, a utopia—whatever you want to call it—a nowhere place, certainly, of a unified human race that isn’t constantly at war with itself. So, when you say I want to rescue some things from the Anglosphere, that is perfectly true. English is my mother tongue. I write in it, unlike my wife, who writes in three different languages. I wish I were so gifted. I used to be fluent in Spanish. I have lost the knack of that now. There is (or should be) a common core, but there is a way of wanting to preserve, for instance, the different languages, different cultures within Europe and beyond Europe. There is an element of realism about it. You have got to think: “What have we got?” A movement forward in time, if we look at it as a historical process, isn’t a series of stark revolutions. There are, of course, some like the Russian Revolution or the French Revolution, but these do not change the landscape completely. What there is is a gradual evolution and there is no endpoint to that evolution. We are not moving towards a world in which everyone lives happily hereafter in liberal nation-states. What we are moving towards I really don’t know. But I do have a suggestion which would be some kind of extended federation.

book cover for The Idea of Europe: from Antiquity to the European Union by Anthony Pagden

My real point, though, is that the nation-state, in spite of all that people say about it collapsing, “fading into the shadows,” and so on, is not about to vanish any time soon. What is happening is that the nation-state is changing, and it is doing so dramatically, and it has to change in such a way that it can preserve what it has been so good at preserving. At the same time, it has to lose or shed that sense of particularity, parochialism or jingoism, all that we associate with the populism of the far right. We have to shed the belief that there is France and there is Italy, and so on, that these places are self-contained, self-explanatory. They have their own histories, languages, religions, et cetera. We do not want to make any of that disappear. However, we have to bear in mind that the process of history is inescapable, irreducible. France—to take one example, because that is the one I know best—is not now what it was fifty years ago, and it is not what it is going to be in fifty years’ time. All of these things are constantly changing. God knows where we will be in a thousand years’ time (probably, we will not be here) or in a hundred years’ time or even in fifty years’ time! The process is in a state of constant movement. Most opponents of cosmopolitanism, globalization, whatever you call it, are people who in essence think that it isn’t moving, who think the nation-state is a natural form, which is what people used to think in the 1930s and 40s. That it is the end of history, to put it that way. It isn’t.     

FGH: I brought up nations and nationality in part because of your perspective, as an Englishman, on Brexit, which you’ve called a catastrophe. Isn’t Brexit it also the legacy of Britain’s status as a peculiar cousin “in but not of” the European family, historically playing transatlanticism against Europeanism; of the tradition of isolation and the “island mentality”; of the long divergence from the continent—or from “our European friends,” as the Brexiteers say? For you, Europe includes Britain, and your “devotional task” involves intellectual convergence with Europe. But you’re operating within an Anglophone American space . . .

Pagden: Well, only operating in the sense that I happen to be here. But intellectually, I would not say that that is the case. There are various ways of looking at this. Britain–England, Scotland–has been a core part of European culture since at least the 17th century. I write histories. I wrote a history of the Enlightenment, which at its core—according to my interpretation—was a revolution engineered in the 17th century by three men: Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, and Francis Bacon. There are many others. If you look at the same scenario from the point of view of people writing in France in the 18th century, most of them would probably be included. I would add Descartes to my list, and others. But getting back to Britain, let me give you an example. There is a popular French play written in the 18th century (I have forgotten its name) about a young woman who in order to avoid being married against her will pretends to be half-witted. At the end of the play, she demonstrates her supreme intelligence and the fact that she is by no means half-witted by summarizing the argument in Locke’s Essay on Human Understanding. The French-speaking audience, listening to French actors in a Parisian theater, would have understood not only what the book was—although it had been written in English—but also would have recognized that she was summarizing the argument correctly. We are talking about a minority elite, true. But this is the intellectual world I am talking about too. Consider someone like David Hume, who is said to have spoken French with a thick Scottish accent, yet conversed in French, wrote in French. These people were true intellectual cosmopolitans, as Diderot says of Hume: you, like me, are a citizen of the world. And that world is a small intellectual world, but it is a world that is not marked by national boundaries and particularly not by that small stretch of water, the English channel.

A street named after John Locke in contemporary Berlin
A street named after John Locke in contemporary Berlin. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

British culture and British intellectual life have always been European. We have had conflicts with the Germans, the French, the Spanish. There has never been a standing apart from Europe up until Europe came into existence as an imaginary entity in the late 19th century and the early 20th century and beyond, and even now, of course, there is no real standing out. If you look at university life, for instance, which is now where most intellectual life goes on, the number of Europeans who have positions at British and American universities is still far greater than was the case, say, fifty years ago. For instance, my wife Giulia was holding a seminar on Zoom in Los Angeles yesterday morning, discussing a French philosopher, Michel Foucault. And the speaker was a French professor who is at an Oxford college. It was this universalism of European culture which made it appealing.

It is also, of course, ineluctably “Eurocentric.” But in my case, it’s simply the language I know. I have no independent access to, say, Chinese culture. I am interested in it. I have a Chinese graduate student who feeds me all kinds of useful information. But I do not have any direct access to it largely because of the language. It limits what you can do. It is what I keep saying. What I said before about Osterhammel and people who call themselves global. Nobody has the resources to be truly global who will not privilege something over something else. The issue has to do with the forms of our understanding. We can come at these societies only if we are prepared to stand somewhere, and that somewhere is likely to be our own culture. My culture is European. It includes Britain, obviously. But it also includes Italy, Spain, Portugal, France, Germany, even Sweden and Denmark. These share a common language—not a common natural language, but a common language or idiom, even if we only have to access many of them in translation. I do not know any Swedish. My German is pretty poor. But the point is that people in the past did not worry much about that. The people I study thought of themselves as being part of a universal culture with Europe at its center.

FGH: Perhaps the core of The Pursuit of Europe is an idea you attribute to Carl Schmitt: the idea of Grossraum (Big Space). You refer to it as “one of the most persuasive conceptions of the world order perfectly compatible with an international order of liberal democracies.” Is this the core of your “Europe“?

Pagden: In a sense, yes. But I think I should say I qualify that by what I said at the time. I think the “Grossraum” idea is a very minimalist claim. What Schmitt is saying is that there are geographical regions that make sense as a whole but they are not divided by boundaries or borders, so there is no obvious limit to (in this case) Europe. I remember writing about this when I wrote The Idea of Europe in 2002. At that time, when Turkey was a secular republic in the middle of the Middle East, “Europe” would certainly have included Turkey. But that was before the rise of Erdogan. Now it is far less clear. Israel is another place that obviously belongs to Europe. Some North-African states, as the Spaniards have constantly been insisting, belong within Europe. I mention the King of Tunisia at one point in the end of the book, who has, or had, a strong conception of himself as being part of something broader because of the Hispanic diaspora, the presence of the Roman Empire in North Africa, and so on. So, you can imagine a Europe that has no natural frontiers. Such frontiers as there are—and this is the point of the Grossraum idea—are predominantly political.

In Schmitt’s case, unfortunately, his politics were those of the Third Reich. Schmitt was never happy with the Third Reich, but there is no doubt that he was on the far right. (The only place that would welcome him after the end of World War II was Franco’s Spain, where he wrote a lot of very interesting stuff, in fact.) He had this internationalist vision: what is it that brings people together? Is it a common space that they occupy? If so we don’t want to get rid of that. But we don’t want to be fully bound by that space either. We don’t want to set limits to it, saying “here is Italy, here, Germany, Austria,” and so on. At the same time, this common space is also determined by a set of common values. My point was that “Europe” is perfectly compatible with the idea of a group of states bound by the traditions and political ideals of, roughly speaking, liberalism, and that would be sufficient for all our needs.

I should say that perhaps Grossraum is one of those phrases that needs a greater elaboration. But I think of it as a beginning, not as an end. For there is the problem which Schmitt does not confront, because it was not his project to confront it anymore than it was mine. But I think there is a question that arises: namely, “what political form, institutional, economic, and so on, is this going to take?” You could say, what form is the Grossraum going be? Schmitt—and not just him, many others—thought of the Monroe Doctrine as one of the key features of this Grossraum. Then there is the whole model of Latin American integration that goes back to Gran Colombia under Simón Bolívar, a subject that I am beginning to find more and more interesting. Bolívar had a vision not of one central authority, but of a diverse yet integrated set of nations, which he called the Amphictyonic Congress of Panama, referring back to the ancient Greek leagues of city states. He never thrashes out exactly what institutional forms this would take. But I think that is the next step for Europe: what is its constitution? What is the legal order going to be like? How are we going to make this into some sort of political reality? But when I made that comment as a beginning of a way of thinking about what Europe is, the unbounded geographical space, the sharing of a common set of values—I do not much like the word “values.” It is so often distorted. So, let us say: a common set or commonly agreed set of objectives, political narratives if you will, which of course shatter from time to time due to the incursion of things like Fascism, National Socialism, and so on. But if we can think that these are incursions, anomalies, they can eventually be destroyed and wiped out, such that we can trace our commonality back to the 18th century, to the Age of Enlightenment. That, to my mind, is what constitutes “Europe.”

FGH: Doesn’t living in the U.S. complicate your invocation of “Europe” in the sense of the term’s instant associations with “a certain West,” with a legacy of old migrations configuring majority groups of historical privilege, with whiteness and whitening processes, with institutional monolingualism? Isn’t your construction of “Europe” something of a sublimation process? Aren’t you setting up demarcation lines beyond which you will not go?

Pagden: I am not sure what the thrust of the first two questions is. No is the answer to the last question. I will go on as long and as far as I keep coming back and I will go as far as I can go because I am only human, of a certain age, and I have limited resources.

You are right about the U.S.-European relationship, of course. It has changed dramatically. It has produced a society which is—as you probably know, but you probably don’t know quite how much—divided against itself, into an extreme right and what the extreme right calls an extreme left, which in Europe sounds comical. The Republican Party keeps coming up with this idea of socialism as a menace. The ones on the extreme right are entrenched white supremacists. There is no doubt about that. These are always ways of attempting to “integrate” immigrant communities—“Integrate” is the wrong word because it evokes Henry Ford’s notion of the great-American melting pot and so on. So the goal is not “integration,” but allowing “them” to occupy a space with “us.” But the U.S. is rapidly developing a much more diverse culture, “diverse” in the real sense of the term, in the sense of encompassing a wide range of peoples from across the globe. What is interesting about this is in fact—although I am not sure if this is what you meant—is the monolinguism that goes with it, which is very peculiar because what you have in any given room, particularly in the universities, is at least four different language groups. But all of these people speak English. American English, that is. It is no longer really the same thing. All of them speak American. If they have another language, that language is usually the language of their origins.

Book cover for Vitoria: Political Writing, edited by Anthony Pagden and Jeremy Lawrence.

I am not saying that people do not study languages as such, in language classes, which is a different phenomenon. But in History, there are no seminars or lectures, for instance, taught in Spanish. Curious, right? Some years ago, there was a candidate for a position in the History department here at UCLA who was put forward by a man called Sanjay Subrahmanyam, who is a very distinguished Indian historian. This candidate was Mexican and he was a candidate for a position in Latin American History. This was all taking place in Los Angeles, in a majority Latino cultural context, and was being put forward by a University which prides itself on its diversity. But despite all that, the books that he had published in Spanish were not considered to be valid as far as his evaluations were concerned. Only those books published in English or translated into English were considered. I was astonished.

FGH: What do we do with the Hispanic dimension? Is there an early “Iberian” contribution to globalization? Do we incorporate Latin America into the “Western hemisphere”? You know better than I do that a conventional Anglo-American understanding of Latin America will not locate it inside the West but inside the Third World and now the “Global South.”

Pagden: It is a good question. There is a problem. What has happened, particularly in the U.S., is an increasing bifurcation between the West and the rest, if you like, or the global North and the global South. Conventional wisdom holds that anybody who is living in the global South is persecuted and anybody who lives in the global North is a persecutor. So, with Latin America, you have a complex problem because many of the people I encounter wish to pretend that in some way they are not part of a Spanish diaspora or a Spanish imperial project. They may be called Cervantes, but they are actually really Indigenous peoples. They are really “Indians” in some way. It is a curious phenomenon. I am exaggerating here slightly: but the whole question of mestizaje or creolization has never been resolved and its results have never been resolved either. So, you have a division between those who would wish to see Spanish America as part of the West, which it clearly is, and those who, because of its lack of economic development essentially, because of its unfortunate relationship with the United States, wish to see it as being somehow part of the “Global South.” Economically that is where it belongs. But in terms of its cultural background, it is an offshoot of Europe, just as the United States is an offshoot of Europe.

A statue of Francisco de Vitoria at San Esteban, Salamanca, Spain.
A statue of Francisco de Vitoria at San Esteban, Salamanca, Spain. Image courtesy of Joanne Herrero.

This is not to make Huntingtonian distinctions [e.g., based on the work of political scientist Samuel Huntington, known for his suggestion that immigrants to the U.S. should assimilate a supposedly distinct Anglo-American culture]. We have passed over Huntington, but, by way of parenthesis, I would strongly reject any sense that I share his general view. Certainly not his view that the Hispanics in the U.S. are destroying the WASP culture of North America. That is an abomination. In a sense, it is true that they are changing it, but it is changing it for the better, and it is a change no-one can stop. This is my objection to trying to put up walls and Trump-like fences all the time to keep people out physically but also culturally.

Let me try to answer your question more coherently. I think the Spanish Magallanes, as you call them, did not go there to extend the knowledge of the world. They went there because they wanted to conquer the world, whatever grounds or reasons they may have had for doing that. They were the first to confront the problem of what impact European expansion has on the rest of the world, including whether it is legitimate or not and how to relate to other indigenous peoples. The French and the British eventually did the same, but it took them another 200 years to get around it. There are inklings in the 17th century, but it is not really until the 18th and the 19th centuries that they begin to confront this problem. So, yes, there is a sense in which Francisco de Vitoria, Bartolomé de Las Casas, and their descendants were actually pioneers in attempts to understand what the conquest and settlement of the Americas meant for Europe, and indeed for the West.

Book cover for The Fall of Natural Man: the American Indian and the Origins of Comparative Ethnology.

The problem is that subsequent to independence, the global South did not proceed as the global North had done, and it has therefore not created a world which could be thought of not in opposition, but as an alternative to the United States and a collaboration with Europe, so to speak. You could have imagined the concept of the sister republics that you had in the North, for instance, in the 18th and part of the 19th centuries. This is the sort of vision that Simón Bolívar had. In a way, it is also the sort of vision that Alexander Hamilton had. You would have a flourishing North and a flourishing South. The flourishing North would be linked to Northern Europe and the flourishing South would be linked to Southern Europe. If that picture of the world had triumphed, it [the world] would be a very different place from what it is today. But that never happened.

We could come up with all sorts of explanations as to why it did not happen. But the real question is why it did work in the United States. How do you deal with postcolonial societies? The United States succeeded in doing something which Bolívar believed was impossible to emulate. He called the United States “la república de los santos” [“the Republic of the Saints” or “the Saintly Republic”]. But he believed that the Spanish creoles had been too contaminated, as he put it, by the Catholic Church on the one hand and the Spanish administration on the other, which had never allowed the colonists to govern themselves in the way the British colonists in the North had effectively done. One of the reasons why it worked here [e.g., in the U.S.] is of course that the areas you were dealing with were tiny compared with the South, the populations were tiny compared with the South, and the English settlers had no wish or need to integrate with the native populations. As Bolívar himself said, “we are not one race but three”: the Spanish, the Indians, and the mestizos. ”We walk like blind men between colors.”

FGH: You use the language of “identity.” You speak of a “common European identity” that is always above all narrow nationalisms. So, perhaps the European confederation is a means of combating the murderous consequences of “post-Hegelian” and liberal nationalism. Can you explain what those terms mean?

Pagden: It is the sense of the conception of the state as the culmination of some moment in history which is the Geist, the spirit incarnate. So, in that sense, it is post-Hegelian, as I say in the book and elsewhere. This is not necessarily in the minds of those who endorse it. I am sure Marine Le Pen has never heard of Hegel, least of all of Heinrich von Treitschke and the neo-Hegelians. I am not the only person to notice this. People –Durkheim for example—remarked at the time that the neo-Hegelians were those who established the idea of the state as the ultimate incarnation of the human spirit, so that the Germans became so radically different from the French as to belong to a different species. Practically, of course, this ultimately becomes muddled up with racism as well. That’s the vision of the state I wish to abandon. At the beginning of the 20th century, Brajendra Nath Seal, an Indian economist who was involved in the movement for Indian independence, called it “racist nationalism.” Racism, that is, was what it looked like from India. This idea of the Volk making up the Stadt, which becomes this embodiment in space and time of the spirit that belongs to that particular Volk. It is self-identifying and absolutely integral. It cannot be divided up. It cannot be diverse. There is a passage in Hegel, which I quote, where he describes what he assumes to be the national characteristics of the different peoples of Europe. How, he asks, these peoples can get together, how could the Spaniards get together with the Germans, the Germans with the Italians? The national characters he attributes to these peoples are already quite interesting, because they are not the ones that we attribute to them today, but so, too, is the idea that they have these fixed identities, such that he feels compelled to ask, how could you possibly get these people to make Europe? The idea of a European union, which he attributes to Kant, was for him a ludicrous absurdity because all that exist are states and states, in order to survive, have to be constantly be in the presence of other states and must be constantly at war with or at least in conflict with one another.

An 1831 portrait of German philiosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel by Jakob Schlesinger.
An 1831 portrait of German philiosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel by Jakob Schlesinger. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

FGH: If nationalism is the “bad guy” and internationalism “the good guy,” then your invocation of “Europe” involves bringing a “new form of belonging to a multicultural national entity,” as you put it in your book. The adjective “multicultural” catches my eye in that statement. What is the “culture” that you want to subordinate?

Pagden: It is not subordinated. I think it is a common law. I went though the various things that the 19th-century Italian intellectual Carlo Cataneo gave as the unifying features of Europe: Imperial Authority—by which he means some centralized authority—Roman Law and Christianity. Now, we may think Christianity is no longer there. But I do think Christianity is one of Europe’s unifying features, and I have been criticized for saying so, as if I were endorsing this fact—which I most certainly was not. One of the defects of the original “European project” after the war, as Jan Werner Muller and other scholars have pointed out, is that its core was a Christian project, or at least, the concept of what constituted “European values” was. Europe’s “Founding Fathers” were all Christian. They never wanted to insist upon it, much to the disgust of the Church, which, of course, did want to insist upon it. You probably remember the fight over preamble to the ill-fated constitution which claimed that Europe was in essence a Christian community. If you leave out Christianity, then you are left with the Roman Law as a common legal culture. And that was one thing that I thought united all of them. 

FGH: Getting back to culture, though: at one point later in The Pursuit of Europe, you suggest that the European togetherness will have to involve detachment from the language, the specific culture . . .

Pagden: No. I did not want to detach Europeans from their national cultures or languages. But we should not look at this as a matter of identity. I look around at young Europeans today, people I meet not in the streets but in seminars: there is a whole series of them whose attitudes towards the integrity of their native lands are completely different from the sort of thing with which I was brought up, and who really do possess what I was trying to get at: a sense of being European. It helps that almost all of them speak two or three languages extremely well. I was in a seminar the other day and there was a German, absolutely fluent in English and French, whose Italian was very good and who could probably read two or three other languages. The language barriers that existed between European peoples are becoming less and less important. That language gives you access to these literatures, these ways of thinking about things. The way they say intellectuals in Scandinavia have been living for centuries and the way intellectuals in England lived in the 16th century, in constant contact with each other: this is something that has now extended beyond the elite educated classes. One of the great achievements of the EU, apart from the European Research Council, from this cultural point of view, is the Erasmus Program, of which students in Britain cannot now avail themselves. My wife’s nephew, for example, has gone on from the University of Trieste to do a doctorate in Paris, and he is just one of many examples.

FGH: You write in the book that “we do not need to love Europe” (pp. 309-310): please explain.

Pagden: “Love,” I think, is the wrong term. Love I associate with patriotism, and patriotism I associate with certain kinds of narrow-mindedness that associate the community with the kin group. The word “patria” is very crucial. It is a father thing, a family thing. You may love your father or your mother or your sister or your wife, but you do not extend that to the community. What you do is you take pleasure in it, you delight in it. I just think the terminology is too tainted by ancient conceptions of patriotism, with an older sense of “my country right or wrong.” All this gives context to the idea, which of course the European Union itself has been pushing, that you must have a kind of nationalism to keep any group of people together. Accordingly, there’s a vision of the EU that seeks to reproduce some form of national sentiment. It demands a national anthem for Europe, a flag, etc., etc. All of these are things taken from the language of nationalism and then imposed on a political and cultural entity which is explicitly multi-national.


Fernando Gomez Herrero: FGH (PhD (Duke University), MA (Duke U, Wake Forest U, U of Salamanca), B.A. (U of Salamanca; fernandogherrero.com) has lately taught at the U of Birmingham and Manchester in Britain. He has also taught at Duke U, Stanford U, U of Pittsburgh, Hofstra U, Oberlin College in the U.S.  Latest work: “About the philosophical proposal of the Liminal Being (An Interview with Eugenio Trías Sagnier): eHumanista (Vol. 53, 2023): pp. 410-485; https://www.ehumanista.ucsb.edu/sites/default/files/sitefiles/ehumanista/volume53/ehum53.trias.pdf; ”Sobre postcolonialismos maltrechos, descolonizaciones malogradas y angostamientos universitarios,” Revista Umbral: Un Mundo en Crisis y Las Humanidades: Sus Retos y Futuro (Universidad de Puerto Rico): Vol. 18, Diciembre 2022) & “The Latest American Appropriation of Western Universalism: A Critique of G. John Ikenberry’s “Liberal International Order,” (http://journal.thenewpolis.com/archives/1.1/index.html . There is an extensive engagement in Spanish with The Crisis of American Foreign Policy: Wilsonianism in the Twenty-First Century, edited by Ikenberry et al (Princeton UP, 2008): “Sobre la crisis oficial de la política exterior estadounidense en las primeras décadas del nuevo siglo” (Nuevo Texto Crítico, Vol. XXIII, No. 45/46): 25 pp. There is a forthcoming article titled “Foreign Humanities and “the liberal West” in the Anglo Zone in the Interregnum: A Critique of G. John Ikenberry’s “Liberal Internationalism,” a synopsis of which was presented at the Conference Legacies organized by the Universitat de Barcelona in June 20-22, 2022 (Home – English – Legacy Conference’ 22 (ub.edu)).

Filed Under: 1400s to 1700s, 1800s, 1900s, 2000s, Atlantic World, Empire, Europe, Features, Ideas/Intellectual History, Immigration, Latin America and the Caribbean, Politics, Research Stories, Transnational, United States, Writers/Literature

In Pursuit of Europe: An Interview with Anthony Pagden (Part I)

By Fernando Gomez Herrero

This is the first half of a two-part article. To read the second part, click here.

Anthony Pagden is a Distinguished Professor in the History Department at the University of California-Los Angeles. England-born and Oxford-trained, but based on the West Coast of the United States, he is emotionally and intellectually invested in the idea of Europe–that is, in the coherent continentalism that is also the current project of the European Union. This is also, in his case, the continent-wide project of liberal democracy that must respond convincingly to the still-unfurling disappointment of Brexit. Pagden addresses this project in relation to a new book, The Pursuit of Europe: A History (2022). This work is connected with an edited collection of essays, The Idea of Europe: From Antiquity to the European Union (2002). Both works cover vast time spaces and aspire to lofty goals, encompassing perhaps more continuities than discontinuities.

Pagden’s scholarship began with a focus on the Early Modern and Colonial legacies of the Hispanic Empire, starting with Hernán Cortés’s Cartas de Relación. Pagden addressed this topic in The Fall of Natural Man: The American Indian and the Origins of Comparative Ethnology (1987). His other works include Peoples and Empires (2001); Worlds at War: The 2,500-Year Struggle Between East and West (2008); and Burdens of Empire: 1539 to the Present (2015). Pagden is also the author of The Enlightenment: And Why It Still Matters (2015), although the title was not one of his choosing. All of his work is concerned with huge (imperial) units, examining the coherence of continentalism, the gravitational pull from the 16th century towards the tradition of the Enlightenment and beyond, and the open embrace of the ideals of liberal universalism. Pagden remains to this day a committed representative of the British school of international thought, and he defends the validity of a history of ideas “from above.”

Earlier this year, Pagden sat down for an interview with Fernando Gomez Herrero, an historian based at the University of London’s Birkbeck College. In conversation with Gomez Herrero, he grappled with questions such as: how does a political configuration such as Europe come into being? How does it overcome enmities and divisions? What type of internationalism does it embrace? What are its limits? And whom do those limits classify as “others”?

The following article–Part I of II–reproduces Pagden’s answers to questions about the intellectual priorities and scholarly methods that informed his vision of Europe. For a discussion of that vision itself, click here to read Part II.

EDITOR’S NOTE: The following interview has been lightly edited for clarity’s sake.

Fernando Gomez Herrero: How do you situate The Pursuit of Europe with respect to the rest of your scholarship?

Anthony Pagden: Modern Europe is not an empire, but it is an aggregate of states. It is a congregation of peoples. I think that is partly what I have been looking at. I was looking at the way Europe was looking at the outside world, the way that Europe responded to the outside world, and the creation of the idea of the unification of Europe is also part of this idea of the European domination of the world. The whole point of the third chapter in the book was how significant the European experience of empire was for the creation of the idea of European unity. Now, there has been a lot said about that, but it is usually to say: “Oh, well, the EU is nothing other than another imperial project”; or, “It is a way the Europeans are trying to hold on to their imperial past after 1945, to hold on to what was left of their imperial possessions.” Now, there is evidence to suggest that that is partly true. But that wasn’t what interested me. What interested me was the way the experience of empire and the reflections upon empire, for instance, particularly in the late 19th century led to, fed into–put it this way–a desire, a belief in the possibility of a greater coherence between the peoples of Europe that starts after the end of the Napoleonic wars in 1815. It is an interesting period, which goes from the collapse of the last attempt before Hitler (if you take Hitler’s to be another such project) to create an empire within Europe. And then, out of the demise of Napoleon, came the “Congress System” and the “Concert of Europe,” a routinized series of international conferences which is really the first attempt to bring the “great powers” of Europe together into an alliance of states. This is, in a sense, where the story begins. There were earlier versions in the Enlightenment, but they were much more–how to say it?–detached from reality. Voltaire said there were “chimera” that “could no more exist among princes than among elephants and rhinoceros, or wolves and dogs.” That’s what the Enlightenment schemes for European unity were, structured fantasies. But a real political project of unification really only begins in 1814-15 with the Concert of Europe and the Treaty of Vienna, which ended the Napoleonic wars. Everything moves forth from there.

A 19th-century print, based on a watercolor painting by Jean-Baptiste Isabey, depicting the 1814 Congress of Vienna, a peace conference that inaugurated the “Congress System.” Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Then came the First World War, which saw the collapse of all the major empires from within Europe (the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Ottoman Empire, and so on), and out of that we get the idea of the world of nation-states that begins in 1919. This is really the crucial moment in recent European history. It is the Paris peace conference of 1919 that creates the idea of self-determination, which then leads eventually to the collapse of European overseas empires and an attempt to reconfigure the idea of Europe in such a way, partly as the critics say, in order to preserve as much of the overseas empires as possible–that is perfectly true–but also to try and bring this together in order to create a more coherent world. For embedded in the Covenant of the League of Nations were a series of attempts to try to create a prototype of the European Union. This all, of course, collapses in the 1930s.

My interest in the idea of European unification started with The Idea of Europe: From Antiquity to the European Union, which is a collection of essays that I helped organize with colleagues in Washington. (We also came together at a conference in Washington.) We were writing about the conception, the “idea” of Europe. But that concern had always, in a sense, been in the back of my mind, because if you think about the contact between the Hispanic world and Amerindians, for instance, it was not just that the Spanish were thinking in terms of: “There are indigenous peoples out there and they are barbarians and so on, and we are Spanish, etc.,”; it was much more than that. It was not just Spain, it was Europe. When [the Spanish Renaissance philosopher and theologian] Francisco de Vitoria, for instance, talks about Christians, what he is talking about is not just the Spanish. He is talking about the whole European world. Then, I also had a broader interest in ways of [dealing with] the international. How do you cope with the relationships between states, how do we conceive the borders between the nation-states, and [between] peoples? My next book will be precisely about that: how do you deal with the international particularly in the modern world? That, if you like, is the underlying theme of everything I now do.

FGH: What do you want to accomplish when you historicize?

Pagden: That is a big question. What do I want to accomplish? I want a better understanding of where we stand, and I suppose of where we might be going, what might be the possibilities for the future. Going back to your previous question about America and the Americas, one of the things about that is that I am an absolutely convinced cosmopolitan internationalist. I have a strong distaste for any form of nationalism and sectarianism and parochialism, whether it be cultural, linguistic, moral or political. I might say I have a neo-Hegelian view of the progress of humanity. If you look at the history of these things, we have gone from empires to nation-states and these nation-states are dissolving into other forms of union, but the development from the primitive hunter-gatherer of pre-antiquity has always generally been forwards. It is not a steady progress by any means, it goes backwards and forwards, but if you take it in millennia, it is the story of a progress towards the greater and greater unification of the human race. And that poses all sorts of problems about how you achieve that unification without turning everyone into the same sort of person inhabiting a vision of the universal as a place where everyone wears the same clothes and speaks the same language and so on. If you want to avoid that kind of science-fiction nightmare, then how do you go about breaking down the resistances of these smaller units? The contemporary one is the nation-state, but originally it was the family, the tribe, the kin-group, then it became parish, or commune, etc. How do you do that? What lessons can we learn from that? In my case, because I am a historian primarily, what lessons can we learn from the past about that?

FGH: Our moment is one of uncertainty, messiness and unpredictability–violence, too, blatantly in the case of Russia’s war in Ukraine. I do not detect many burdens, uncertainties and hesitations in your method of and belief in history. Is that a fair statement? is it a good thing? A bad thing?

Pagden: I think it is a question of what you choose to write the history of. Of course, you can do a Spengler [e.g., copy the pessimistic style of Oswald Spengler, a German intellectual active during the early 20th century] and write a history of disaster and lots of people have. There are accounts of Europe that are simply a manifest of one disaster after another. For example, there’s Mark Mazower’s Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century (1998), a very brilliant book that brings out all sorts of things like the fact that no one would have guessed liberal democracy would triumph after 1945. We were facing a Europe that was either Fascist or Communist. By focusing on that chaos and confusion, he has come up with a picture of the European continental divide which I find extremely illuminating. But the pessimists, the nihilists have nothing to offer other than pessimism and nihilism. They merely think–or claim to think–that everything is going to hell in a handcart. I think these things are projects: the pursuit of Europe is a pursuit. We have not got there yet. This is the history of a project which is still going forward. It might yet fail. But I am not one of those who would write a book about “The Light that Failed, The Europe that Failed, The End of Europe.” There are enough of them around. Some of the claims they make are perfectly valid. I think you are right in the sense that the bottom line is that I believe in it, in the EU that is: I think it will succeed, or go on succeeding. To say “succeed” suggests that there is an end goal, and we can only do our best, not as individuals, but as historians, political scientists, and so on: to lay out the base plan, to show how it has come about, to show where it is going, to offer some sense to what that future might be.

Anthony Pagden (at left, rows 1 and 3, and center, rows 2 and 4) in conversation with Fernando Gomez-Herrero (at right, rows 1 and 3). Images courtesy of Fernando Gomez Herrero.

FGH: In The Pursuit of Europe, you mostly trace “history from above,” documenting the assertions and good intentions of elite groups as they are fighting with each other for hegemony on the European stage. Do you see them as makers of an “order” that “we,” the people, mostly follow?

Pagden: That is a good point. Yes. The making of order: I like that. I think that’s right. I would say that I am an intellectual historian. Which is history from above. I lived through the period of the 1970s-1980s when it was very fashionable to think in terms of “history from below.” I was for a while quite a good friend of Carlo Ginzburg, one of the shakers and movers of the “microhistory” movement and a brilliant historian. I knew him in Italy and when I had a position in Florence at the European University Institute and then later at UCLA. In the early 1980s, “history from below” was very much the fashion. I was never much attracted by it. I am not saying it is not valuable. I am not saying at all it was not interesting and some of the books it produced were fascinating, particularly Ginzburg’s and those by a close colleague, Carlo Poni, whom I had also known in Florence. But my theme and my interest was always “history from above.” Elites are those who have ideas. The common people, sorry to use that phrase, don’t. I mean, that is not where ideas come from. Those ideas, I believe very strongly, are what shapes and forms our political behavior, or behavior in general, even if we are not always aware of them. I belong to a Department of Political Science, which means that for the exception of three other people and one or two fellow travelers, most of my colleagues are people who are concerned with counting things. So, they don’t really know how ideas fit into this because their ideas are always very simple. “If you do this with voting practices, what result do you get and so on?” My claim has always been: “Very well, I am not saying that this is not a valuable exercise, and it is very useful in actual policy making. What I would claim, however, is that most of the terms they are discussing derive from theories and ideas in a broader sense which have a historical past, and it is those ideas that I am concerned with.” If you want to persuade people to vote on the Left, for instance, and you come up with an equation that tells you that if you offer them health care they are more likely for the Right, you have to know what these terms mean to start with. You have got to know how you have ended up in a world in which we are divided in this way. When I teach undergraduates, I am always telling them: “Do you want to know how you got to be where you are, your way of thinking, the way you are thinking now, the impact, for instance, which this thing called ‘the Constitution’ has on you? Then you have to go back and find out how it was constructed, find out where it comes from, otherwise you will not understand properly the nature of the material you are dealing with.” So, I think we have a very important role to play in that respect.

FGH: What type of historian are you? You are a historian of international ideas. But, for example, religion does not interest you as much. You are a secularist. And your ideas tend to be ideals towards the construction of what we might call “Western European togetherness,” which you call “Europe” and equate to a liberal multicultural society. You are not dwelling on ideas of extermination, for instance.

Pagden: That’s true, roughly speaking. In The Enlightenment: And Why It Still Matters (which is not, by the way, my title, and I don’t very much like it), I made an attempt to understand the significance of the Enlightenment for the West and the West as it expanded beyond the perimeters of Europe. The good and the bad. Where does it come from? What do you want to preserve of it? There are those who don’t want to preserve any part of it. I am not going to deny that. But then there are a great many things that we do wish to preserve and liberalism is one of them. Not “neoliberal’ but “liberal,” certainly in the sense that John Stuart Mill understood it. You take on board whatever everybody can bring and you judge that according to whatever set of universal standards and principals of pain and gain apply. It is a form of utilitarianism. And that is what we must be moving towards. And I think that can only be done at an international scale rather than a national one. Nationalism can only give us things like ISIS, and so on. Europe was, for me, the stepping stone.

There was another aspect to writing that particular book. By the time I started, Brexit was underway. But I am old enough to remember when Britain first joined the EU, and I was one of the people who voted in the original referendum on continuing membership in 1975. That was the moment when many of us thought that a new world was approaching. We had behaved honorably between 1939 and 1945. (We might not have done. Britain might easily have gone the way of Vichy France. Lots of people at that time wanted that). But now, it was time to create a new world: a new world not just for my generation, which is already now old, but a new world for the generations that were to come after. And that world could not be an attempt, as Churchill was attempting immediately after the war, to reclaim the best of English 19th-century colonialism and rebrand it as some sort of Commonwealth in which the British stood “with Europe but not of Europe,” as he put it, a very nice phrasing (borrowed from Shakespeare). It captured very much what he and his generation wanted. But not ours. There was that moment in the 1970s when there was the feeling that all of that has now been put behind us and now we were going forward into another world. Britain, however, was always very sluggish about it. It never acted with the enthusiasm that ,for example, Spain did when Spain joined the EU in 1992. I remember very well because I had Spanish friends on both sides of the political divide who were saying, again, their problem was not World War II, their problem was Francisco Franco. They said, essentially, that “in order to go forward, we have got to change and we have got to be part of this modernizing project, and the only way to be part of this modernizing project is to reconstruct ourselves.” Britain had, in a sense, done much the same thing twenty years earlier, but at one point in time it had lost momentum. But then, when Britain joined, “Europe” was very much a Common Market. Admittedly, the founding treaty of the European Coal and Steel Community of 1952 speaks of the ambition to create a “United States of Europe.” Even so, the Common Market did not yet have the political ambitions that it acquired later, particularly after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the opening up to the East, which changed the nature of the political project. So, I really wanted to write this book, but I wasn’t sure anyone was going to read it.

FGH: Within what framework are you constructing “Europe” in the book? Would you pick international history? Intellectual history? Does the notion of “global history” appeal to you? Do you take Area Studies into account? It seems to me that your vision of “Europe” is the symbolic space where you want to be and which you want to occupy.

Pagden: Yes, absolutely. In answer to your question, I would say, first of all, that the history I am concerned with is intellectual history. It is international, but it is international only in the sense that I am not dealing with just one country. I don’t know of many people who do one particular history in one particular language. Basically, most intellectual historians are prima facie at least international historians. I certainly believe in that, since the people I study, for the most part, from the 16th century on, were internationalists. So I, too, have to be internationalist. You will not find anybody of interest who stayed at home. (Well, Kant, of course, stayed at home, but he read a lot and communicated a lot with other people.) Your mind at least has to travel, even if you as a person don’t travel.

Global history: yes. I am very interested in global history. As I said, Europe is for me but one part of a process. Some of the books in the past have been, I suppose, much more concerned with what one might call “global history.” There are all sorts of technical problems with global history. Most global history is, I don’t want to say, superficial. That sounds extremely condemnatory. There are people like Jürgen Osterhammel, of whom I think very highly, who is, for example, a historian of Asia, but who writes such that “global” history is always viewed from Asia. My case is Europe. It always comes back to Europe. But that does not mean that I am not interested in and conscious of all of the other parts of the world. Then, there is the question of international relations, but understood as the relations between the different parts of the world and how they fit together. So, yes, it is global in that sense.

Area Studies I associate with something that is now passé. I am certainly not that. I mean, there was a time in the 1970s-80s when I was vaguely associated with Area Studies for Latin America, but, again, I don’t think of it that way. If Latin America or Europe are interesting to me, ultimately it is because they are connected to a wider world. The study of the development of Europe, the pursuit of Europe, ultimately remains interesting because there is somebody out there beyond it. Now, you are right in saying it is my “home.” I think of myself as a European. I do not think of myself as British. I am not unusual in that, particularly [since I do not live there anymore]. I have two children who live in Britain, but I don’t go back very often. I find London stranger now than I ever did. I used to be able to have a meal for £5. Now I cannot get a glass of water for that money (laughter). So, there are changes. There are those wonderful stories of Joseph Conrad of people returning “home” and then not recognizing where they are. For me, “home” does not exist any longer. Probably, Paris. This is purely personal. But my intellectual home is Europe.

FGH: Tell us about your next book.

Pagden: I have written, and it is about to be published in Italian, a book which is called Oltre gli Stati. Poteri, Popoli e Ordine Globale–“Beyond the State: Powers, Peoples and the Global Order.” It is basically about the internationalization of the world. It starts off with a historical account–I am a historian–of how I think the “international” space came together. The two major spheres of that are the commercial enterprises of the European states, above all in the 18th and 19th centuries, and the creation of empires. So again, we go back to that form, and the creation of an international legal order. Then I go into what is partly touched on in The Pursuit of Europe, which is the history of federalism, because what I want to argue briefly is that if the world has any future, it lies in some form of federalism. This is interesting, not least of all because forms of federal government exist universally. They are not just European. True, a whole system has been developed, which is European in origin, going all the way back to the Amphictyonic League in Ancient Greece, but they are by no means exclusively European. What I look at is the ideas that lie behind federations in India, Simón Bolívar’s “amphictyonic” Gran Colombia in Latin America, and of course in North America to some extent. I am talking about “federalism,” as it was then called, and not federal states as such. The UK and Spain, Canada, and Germany are federal states in the latter sense. In fact, 82% of the world nations are federal states, technically. But I am talking about federations, groupings of states that come together and what that future might offer. It is quite a short book. It belongs in a series, which is about what the West has contributed to the rest of the world. I want to develop that into some more sustained study of the federation and what its future might be.


Fernando Gomez Herrero: FGH (PhD (Duke University), MA (Duke U, Wake Forest U, U of Salamanca), B.A. (U of Salamanca; fernandogherrero.com) has lately taught at the U of Birmingham and Manchester in Britain. He has also taught at Duke U, Stanford U, U of Pittsburgh, Hofstra U, Oberlin College in the U.S.  Latest work: “About the philosophical proposal of the Liminal Being (An Interview with Eugenio Trías Sagnier): eHumanista (Vol. 53, 2023): pp. 410-485; https://www.ehumanista.ucsb.edu/sites/default/files/sitefiles/ehumanista/volume53/ehum53.trias.pdf; ”Sobre postcolonialismos maltrechos, descolonizaciones malogradas y angostamientos universitarios,” Revista Umbral: Un Mundo en Crisis y Las Humanidades: Sus Retos y Futuro (Universidad de Puerto Rico): Vol. 18, Diciembre 2022) & “The Latest American Appropriation of Western Universalism: A Critique of G. John Ikenberry’s “Liberal International Order,” (http://journal.thenewpolis.com/archives/1.1/index.html . There is an extensive engagement in Spanish with The Crisis of American Foreign Policy: Wilsonianism in the Twenty-First Century, edited by Ikenberry et al (Princeton UP, 2008): “Sobre la crisis oficial de la política exterior estadounidense en las primeras décadas del nuevo siglo” (Nuevo Texto Crítico, Vol. XXIII, No. 45/46): 25 pp. There is a forthcoming article titled “Foreign Humanities and “the liberal West” in the Anglo Zone in the Interregnum: A Critique of G. John Ikenberry’s “Liberal Internationalism,” a synopsis of which was presented at the Conference Legacies organized by the Universitat de Barcelona in June 20-22, 2022 (Home – English – Legacy Conference’ 22 (ub.edu)).  

Filed Under: 1400s to 1700s, 1800s, 1900s, 2000s, Empire, Europe, Ideas/Intellectual History, Immigration, Politics, Research Stories, Transnational, Writers/Literature

Remembering Carlos E. Castañeda: A Mexican Historian in Texas

banner image for Remembering Carlos E. Castañeda: A Mexican Historian in Texas

UT Austin students know the name Castañeda as one-half of the namesake of the Perry-Castañeda Library. Perhaps fewer appreciate the profound impact that the eminent historian, librarian, and social reformer Carlos E. Castañeda exerted upon their University, the field of Texas history, and the Mexican American civil rights struggle in Texas. A two-day symposium to take place at UT Austin this fall offers a chance to reexamine the life, work, and scholarly and social impact of this pivotal figure.

2023 is an appropriate time to reassess Castañeda’s legacy. This year marks the centenary year of the founding of the Texas Historical Commission in 1923, a body sponsored by the Knights of Columbus that also published Castañeda’s seven-volume Our Catholic Heritage in Texas (1936-1958). This work stands as a veritable monument in Texas historiography.

In commemoration of this centenary, UT Austin’s Matthew Butler and History Department alumnus Brian Stauffer (PhD, 2015) have organized “Castañeda’s Catholic Texas?” to reappraise Castañeda’s historiographical legacy as Texas’s preeminent Mexican American historian. The event will also contextualize this intellectual work within his Catholic faith and a lifetime of labor and political activism.

Castañeda was,both, a Catholic and a papal knight whose commitment to human dignity and spiritual militancy led him to campaign against discrimination in Texas employment practices as a field officer in FDR’s Fair Employment Commission and in favor of Mexican Americans’ educational and civic rights as a school superintendent and member of LULAC (League of United Latin American Citizens). To this end, the organizers have assembled a diverse group of scholars whose work will collectively reevaluate Castañeda’s contribution to the lived history and historiography of twentieth-century Texas and his Catholic ideas, while taking Castañeda’s work as an inspiration for new Catholic and labor histories of Texas and the Border.   

A photograph of Dr. Castañeda, ca. the 1930s.
A photograph of Dr. Castañeda, ca. the 1930s, from the Nettie Lee Benson Latin American Collection at UT Austin. Image courtesy of the Benson Collection.

Despite his reputation as a confessional historian and Boltonian—an admirer of Herbert E. Bolton’s theory of the Borderland as an interactive imperial space[1]—Castañeda was a multifaceted, politically engaged, and paradoxical figure. Though his writing lauded the presence of Spanish missionaries in Texas and sometimes adopted their view of Indigenous people as backward and childlike, Castañeda himself faced discrimination at the hands of an ethnocratic power structure convinced of Mexican inferiority.

A Catholic who collaborated with exiled Mexican priests, such as Jesuit Mariano Cuevas, Castañeda nonetheless supported the Mexican Revolution’s educational project and was an interlocutor of the most anticlerical regime in hemispheric history. Best known as a historian-archivist (in correspondence he enjoyed describing himself as “the Historiographer”), Castañeda’s activism as Del Río school superintendent, on the U.S. Committee on Fair Employment Practice, or in pro-Hispanic organizations such as LULAC, perhaps outlasts his intellectual achievements.

banner image for the conference

Why is it that a historian of colonial, Catholic Texas should loom so large as a labor activist and defender of Mexican American rights in the twentieth century? In what overlooked, unheralded ways did Castañeda’s Catholicism and intellectual work lead him to espouse what were then radical political views and activist roles? “Castañeda’s Catholic Texas?” will explore these tensions between Castañeda’s historical imagination and activist life. It will also feature new contributions to the historiography of Catholicism in Texas that build upon Castañeda’s monumental work, taking it as a starting point for new, critical discussions of the interactions between faith, politics, and identity. Other contributions, such as that of UT Austin’s Emilio Zamora, will recontextualize Castañeda’s struggle on behalf of Mexican American workers.

Symposium participants will address three major themes in as many sessions: Castañeda’s intellectual work as a Catholic and Mexican historian in Texas; histories of Texas that carry his historiographical ideas forwards; and histories of Castañeda’s labor and political activism. Panelists include UT Austin faculty members Matthew Butler, John Moran González, and Emilio Zamora, along with Juliana Barr (Duke), Fr. Robert E. Wright, OMI (Oblate School of Theology), Deborah E. Kanter (Emeritus, Albion College), Gerald Poyo (St. Mary’s), Roberto R. Treviño (Emeritus, UT-Arlington), Jesús F. de la Teja (Emeritus, Texas State), Ricardo Álvarez-Pimentel (Baylor), Timothy Matovina (Notre Dame), Cynthia E. Orozco (Eastern New Mexico University), Matthew Gritter (Angelo State), Maggie Elmore (Sam Houston State), and Aaron E. Sánchez (Texas Tech). The symposium is sponsored by the Institute for Historical Studies in the History Department, the Texas Catholic Historical Society, the Nettie Lee Benson Latin American Collection, UT Libraries, and the Summerlee Foundation.

The symposium will be held in the Second Floor Conference Room of the Benson Collection’s on-campus home in Sid Richardson Hall (SRH.1) on September 20-21, 2023. Additional updates and registration details will be released in August. Further inquiries about the event can be directed to tchs@txcatholic.org.


[1] https://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/entries/bolton-herbert-eugene

Filed Under: 1900s, Education, Empire, Features, Latin America and the Caribbean, Politics, Race/Ethnicity, Religion, Texas, Transnational, United States Tagged With: Mexican American, Mexico, Texas, Texas-Mexico Border

IHS Book Roundtable: The Foundations of Glen Canyon Dam: Infrastructures of Dispossession on the Colorado Plateau

The Foundations of Glen Canyon Dam: Infrastructures of Dispossession on the Colorado Plateau
(University of Texas Press, Feb. 2023)
by Erika Marie Bsumek

The second highest concrete-arch dam in the United States, Glen Canyon Dam was built to control the flow of the Colorado River throughout the Western United States. Completed in 1966, the dam continues to serve as a water storage facility for residents, industries, and agricultural use across the American West. The dam also generates hydroelectric power for residents in Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, Arizona, and Nebraska. More than a massive piece of physical infrastructure and an engineering feat, the dam exposes the cultural structures and complex regional power relations that relied on Indigenous knowledge and labor while simultaneously dispossessing the Indigenous communities of their land and resources across the Colorado Plateau.

Erika Marie Bsumek reorients the story of the dam to reveal a pattern of Indigenous erasure by weaving together the stories of religious settlers and Indigenous peoples, engineers and biologists, and politicians and spiritual leaders. Infrastructures of dispossession teach us that we cannot tell the stories of religious colonization, scientific exploration, regional engineering, environmental transformation, or political deal-making as disconnected from Indigenous history. This book is a provocative and essential piece of modern history, particularly as water in the West becomes increasingly scarce and fights over access to it continue to unfold.

Dr. Erika Marie Bsumek is an associate professor of history at The University of Texas at Austin. She is the author of the award-winning Indian-made: Navajo Culture in the Marketplace, 1848–1940 and the coeditor of Nation States and the Global Environment: New Approaches to International Environmental History.

Discussants:

C. J. Alvarez
Associate Professor
Department of Mexican American and Latino/a Studies; and Department of History
The University of Texas at Austin

P. Jane Hafen
Professor Emerita, Department of English
University of Nevada, Las Vegas

Andrew Needham
Associate Professor of History
New York University


The views and opinions expressed in this article or video are those of the individual author(s) or presenter(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policy or views of the editors at Not Even Past, the UT Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin, or the UT System Board of Regents. Not Even Past is an online public history magazine rather than a peer-reviewed academic journal. While we make efforts to ensure that factual information in articles was obtained from reliable sources, Not Even Past is not responsible for any errors or omissions.

Filed Under: Institute for Historical Studies, Watch & Listen

Roundtable Review of The Peacemaker: Ronald Reagan, the Cold War, and the World on the Brink (2023) by William Inboden

From the editors:

William Inboden is the William J. Power, Jr. executive director of the Clements Center for National Security at the University of Texas at Austin. A former State Department official who served on the National Security Council under President George W. Bush, Inboden is also a distinguished scholar of international history. His most recent book, entitled The Peacemaker: Ronald Reagan, the Cold War, and the World on the Brink, presents a definitive account of the Reagan administration’s foreign policy achievements.

To mark The Peacemaker‘s publication, Not Even Past invited historians Joseph A. Ledford and Ashlyn Hand to review its contents. Ledford and Hand are rising stars in the world of historical scholarship. Their reviews deftly describe Inboden’s key insights, showing how Reagan strove to bring peace and order to the deeply unsettled world of the 1980s. Few presidents have grappled with greater international uncertainty. But as Inboden’s book demonstrates, Reagan was able to build a lasting legacy through his skillful navigation of the late Cold War’s uncharted waters.


Speaking to a private scholarly gathering at the Library of Congress in 1986, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger remarked that, “when you meet the President, you ask yourself, ‘How did it ever occur to anybody that he should be Governor, much less President?’” Still, Kissinger confessed of President Ronald Reagan: “He has a kind of instinct that I cannot explain.” In The Peacemaker, William Inboden not only provides clarity on Reagan’s instinct, but also furnishes the preeminent account of his statecraft, from the origins of Reagan’s 1980 presidential campaign to his December 4th, 1992, address to the Oxford Union, replete with insightful anecdotes and perceptive analysis.

A cavalcade of declassification over the past decade has helped Inboden offer greater insight into Reagan’s policymaking. To explain Reagan’s statecraft, Inboden identifies in Reagan’s foreign policy seven themes that derive from both the archives and his worldview: allies and partners; history; force and diplomacy; religious faith and religious freedom; tragedy; battle of ideas; and expansion of liberty. These seven themes reflect a hawkish but nuclear abolitionist Reagan deeply engaged in crafting and executing his foreign policy—a president determined to harness American power and allied support to challenge the Soviet Union and secure peace. The dynamic nature of liberal democracy and market capitalism, Reagan fervently believed, advantaged the United States, and sustained his diplomatic and military campaign against the Soviets. Reagan sought not only diplomacy underpinned by a mighty American military buildup, but also the spread of political and religious freedoms to uplift the oppressed and undermine authoritarians.

President Ronald Reagan swaps pleasantries with former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger at the White House in June 1981. Source: National Archives.

Inboden’s seven themes weave through an engrossing narrative, which also serves an important methodological purpose. Foreign-policy decisions are neither made in an isolated context nor arrived at with absolute certainty. Drawing on his policymaking experience and historical craft, Inboden successfully captures in narrative form the precariousness of policymaking as the Reagan administration lived it. In doing so, Inboden eloquently reconstructs the messy reality of the international affairs in which Reagan dealt.

At once judicious and bold, The Peacemaker presents three interrelated arguments about Reagan’s bid to master 1980s geopolitics. First, alongside Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Reagan had the most significant modern presidency. In January 1981, Reagan confronted the Soviet Union at the zenith of its military power during the Cold War—a fearsome Soviet Union that had invaded Afghanistan, aided revolution across the globe, and tightened its grip behind the Iron Curtain. An onslaught of other geopolitical threats faced the president, too. In Africa, apartheid persisted, and the last vestiges of colonialism precipitated civil war. Latin America was awash in blood from the Cold War’s destructive forces. The Iranian Revolution destabilized the Middle East, and the rise of terrorism confounded policymakers. These grave issues posed vexing challenges, in addition to the problems besetting Western Europe and Asia. Inside America, Reagan grappled with a crisis of confidence and institutions, a consequence of 1970s domestic tumult and economic downturn.

As Inboden shows, however, the Reagan Revolution cast the foundations of a new world order out of the deadly frost of the Cold War. By January 1989, the United States appeared rejuvenated economically, politically, and militarily. A wave of democracy flowed from Argentina, Chile, El Salvador to South Korea, the Philippines, and Taiwan. The “evil empire” slouched toward the ash heap of history. Reagan achieved arms reduction with the Soviet Union and, in turn, lessened the chances of nuclear annihilation. “The Iron Curtin and Berlin Wall may have appeared to the naked eye to still be standing,” Inboden observes, “but the forces that would bring them down were already boring away within” (476). The Cold War ended in short order. With the added benefit of structural forces moving to its advantage, the United States reached unipolarity under the leadership of Reagan’s successor and vice president, George H. W. Bush.

“Tear Down This Wall!”: Reagan delivers his famous Berlin Wall speech in front of the Brandenburg Gate on June 12th, 1987.

Second, and stemming from the first argument, Reagan’s grand strategy for waging the Cold War brought the Soviet Union to a “negotiated surrender,” one in which Reagan pursued diplomacy to curb hostilities and reduce the nuclear threat while marshalling all the resources of the United States to extirpate Soviet communism from the earth. Paul Nitze’s walk in the Geneva woods initiated a sprint toward arms reductions, culminating in Reagan signing the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty. During this arms race to zero, as Inboden details, Reagan embarked on the Strategic Defense Initiative, a missile defense system that scientist Edward Teller encouraged, and a cross-section of experts ridiculed, but the Soviets feared. Reagan upgraded the US armed forces, building unrivaled weaponry using new technologies. He unified the Western alliance against the Soviet Union, Warsaw Pact satellites, and other Soviet-supported authoritarians. And, crucially, he brought the Reagan Doctrine to bear on Soviet advancement in the Global South while inspiring dissidents under the yoke of communism with stirring rhetoric and covert assistance.

Third, and responsible for the second argument, Reagan effected a Cold War grand strategy through economic restoration, defense modernization, political and religious liberty promotion, nuclear weapons abolition, anticommunist insurgency financing, and the obsolescence of mutual assured destruction, a set of actions codified by National Security Decision Directives 12, 13, 32, 54, 71, 75, 166, 238, and 302. Here, Inboden daringly—and ultimately persuasively—argues that these prongs of Reagan’s strategy combined to stress the Soviet system and create the conditions that influenced the ascendence of Mikhail Gorbachev, a reformer who embraced Reagan’s diplomatic overtures to mitigate the deleterious effects of American power.

Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev pose for a photograph during their Reykjavik summit in October 1986. Source: National Archives.

From this vantage, Reagan’s record may seem unblemished. Yet, despite rendering an overall positive judgement, Inboden does not pull punches on Reagan’s mistakes. In the Global South, Reagan’s policies could be counterproductive and tragic. In Lebanon, for instance, Inboden sharply criticizes Reagan’s handling of the Marine barracks bombing, particularly the president’s decision to not retaliate. “His failure to do so,” Inboden judges, “damaged American credibility, hurt relations with an important ally [France], and invited further terrorist attacks” (256). In Nicaragua, Reagan’s harbor mining operation proved a self-inflicted political disaster. “The mines,” Inboden contends, “did far more damage to America’s global reputation than to the Sandinista economy” (286). So, too, did Reagan’s support for disreputable anticommunist leaders and insurgents compromise his administration’s moral standing.

Inside the White House, meanwhile, Reagan often expressed indifference to perennial squabbling among staff and avoided personal confrontations. His inattention to the minutiae of being president manifested infamously in the Iran-Contra affair, a harebrained scheme involving arms-for-hostages deals with Iran and the diversion of the profits to the Contras in violation of the Boland amendments. Reagan arguably made his greatest blunder with Iran-Contra. As Inboden puts it: Iran-Contra “violated several of his own strategic principles, such as: Negotiate from strength. Keep faith with allies. Incentivize adversaries to engage in good behavior; do not reward bad behavior. Build public support for policies rather than keeping them secret. Even ‘trust but verify’” (423).

By contrasting Iran-Contra with the Geneva Summit, however, Inboden encapsulates the enigmatic Reagan in a single passage. During Iran-Contra, Inboden notes, Reagan exhibited his legendary stubbornness, disregarded sage advice from trusted cabinet members, and deluded himself into thinking that arms-for-hostages was not his cardinal objective. The scandal could have been easily avoided if Reagan had not followed his worst instincts. At Geneva, conversely, Reagan confidently pursued his creative strategy for ending the Cold War across ten sessions with Gorbachev, laying the groundwork for the conflict’s resolution. He formed a true relationship with Gorbachev while pressuring him on arms reductions and human rights. Reagan was in his element. His courage and convictions both impressed and distressed the Soviet leader.

Reagan greets Gorbachev at the first session of the Geneva summit in November 1985. Source: National Archives.

Although Reagan could not quote Thomas Schelling chapter and verse, he abhorred nuclear weapons, committed to a singular vision about world order, and possessed an uncanny ability to cut to the heart of policy matters. In a revealing anecdote, Inboden recounts Reagan’s visit to the North American Air Defense Command in 1979, during which General James Hill informed him that America did not maintain a defense against nuclear weapons, only the facility to counterattack. Reagan concluded that relying on mutually assured destruction was no way to live. This grim realization reinforced Reagan’s belief in nuclear abolition and his resolve to peacefully end the Cold War. As Inboden lucidly demonstrates, Reagan articulated the genesis of his plan in the 1970s, established the means during his first term, and delivered on the ends in his second term.

Inboden’s vivid portrayal of Reagan refutes the reversal thesis that he somehow transformed during his second term. The Cold War changed, not Reagan. The 40th president called for the zero option in 1981 and made good on his promise in 1987 by seeking “peace through strength.” (65) Only one version of Reagan served as president, and he comes alive in The Peacemaker.

Joseph A. Ledford is an America in the World Consortium Postdoctoral Fellow at the Henry A. Kissinger Center for Global Affairs at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies.


In The Peacemaker: Ronald Reagan, the Cold War, & the World on the Brink, William Inboden offers the first comprehensive analysis of Ronald Reagan’s foreign policy. It is a brilliantly written narrative of complicated characters and strategic vision during the final decade of the Cold War. The Cold War was not a foregone conclusion, and Inboden’s book evokes the peril and urgency of the time. The sobering reality of a potential hot war—one with the capability of obliterating humankind–sits in the narrative like a member of Reagan’s inner circle and demands intellectual empathy from the reader.

Inboden argues that Reagan understood the Cold War fundamentally as a battle of ideas made more complex because of great power competition. This contrasted with the more common understanding of the Cold War as a classic great power competition with an ideological element. This difference in framing meant that Reagan saw Soviet communism as an enemy to be defeated rather than party to a conflict to be managed or contained.

Reagan announcing his administration’s Strategic Defense Initiative–nicknamed “Star Wars”–in March 1983. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

But how to defeat communism without launching World War III? Inboden describes Reagan’s goal as “negotiated surrender,” in which Reagan applied sufficient pressure and exploited Soviet vulnerabilities to puncture the Soviet system while extending a hand in diplomatic outreach. Inboden recognizes that these goals were, at times, in contradiction. Still, he maintains that Reagan himself “held tenaciously to both” (4).

One central theme in The Peacemaker is Reagan’s commitment to religious freedom and the expansion of liberty. Vis-à-vis the Soviet Union, Reagan pushed for the protection of Jewish refuseniks and persecuted religious believers like the Siberian Seven, a group of Pentecostals who sought refuge in the American Embassy in Moscow in 1978. But as Inboden addresses, Reagan’s Cold War lens could prevent him from acknowledging the brutality of regimes in places like El Salvador and Argentina (106).

A statue symbolizing religious freedom outside the Ronald Reagan International Trade Center in Washington, D. C. The statue forms part of the Oscar Straus Memorial Fountain. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Inboden also highlights the role of historical memory in shaping foreign policy decision-making. Whether it be Bill Casey’s likening Soviet communism to Nazism or the ever-present fear of another Vietnam, the centrality of history is a recurring theme.

The book unfolds chronologically, giving the reader a taste of the sheer volume of strategic challenges facing the Oval Office–a reality Secretary of State George Shultz called the “simultaneity of events” (7).  The number of issues vying for presidential attention at any one moment is overwhelming, a situation sometimes made more stressful by the eclectic cast of characters in Reagan’s cabinet. Relying on newly released documents and meticulous archival research, Inboden captures the idiosyncrasies, missteps, and glories of the Reagan team.

In the end, the Cold War outlasted Reagan’s time in office. Still, Inboden maintains, “Reagan had transformed the art of the possible. Things inconceivable in 1980 became reality by 1989” (475). The Peacemaker is key reading material to better understand foreign policy challenges of the Cold War and the strategic vision of the 40th president.


The views and opinions expressed in this article or video are those of the individual author(s) or presenter(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policy or views of the editors at Not Even Past, the UT Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin, or the UT System Board of Regents. Not Even Past is an online public history magazine rather than a peer-reviewed academic journal. While we make efforts to ensure that factual information in articles was obtained from reliable sources, Not Even Past is not responsible for any errors or omissions.

Filed Under: 1900s, Cold War, Politics, Reviews, Transnational, United States, War

“Free Walter Collins!”: Black Draft Resistance and Prisoner Defense Campaigns during the Vietnam War

banner image for “Free Walter Collins!”: Black Draft Resistance and Prisoner Defense Campaigns during the Vietnam War

On December 10th, 1970, Dara Abubakari led a delegation of activists to Washington, D. C., where they visited the Department of Justice, the Selective Service headquarters, and the White House.[1] Activists representing a range of civil rights, Black nationalist, and anti-war organizations, including the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), the Republic of New Africa (RNA), and the National Association of Black Students (NABS), participated in the December demonstration. Outside the Department of Justice, one group posed for a photo with signs, which read “Free Collins!” The delegation appeared on behalf of Abubakari’s son, Walter Collins, who had been imprisoned a few weeks earlier. Convicted of refusing induction into the U.S. military based on his opposition to the Vietnam War, Collins was facing five years in prison, even after numerous appeals. With few remaining avenues available for challenging Collins’ sentence in court, his supporters presented their case to individual government officials, and the broader public, in hopes of arousing concern.

A December 1970 photograph of pro-Collins demonstrators outside the Justice Department's headquarters in Washington, D. C.
A December 1970 photograph of pro-Collins demonstrators outside the Justice Department’s headquarters in Washington, D. C. Image courtesy of the author.

Collins’ legal predicament was not unique. Hundreds of thousands of Americans avoided compulsory military service during the Vietnam War by filing exemptions as conscientious objectors, seeking medical deferments, leaving the country, or simply failing to report for induction—practices broadly categorized as draft evasion or resistance. Of those who refused induction or committed other draft violations, around 9,000 were convicted, and over 3,000 were imprisoned.[2] However, Collins’ legal case and the popular movement that developed around it offer particularly vivid examples of political repression and collective resistance during the Vietnam War era.

Between his sentencing in 1969 and his release from prison in 1972, Collins, his legal team, and his supporters worked tirelessly to appeal his sentence, publicize his case, and mobilize people on behalf of other draft resisters and political prisoners. They petitioned the U.S. Supreme Court, organized public demonstrations, and distributed literature across the country and abroad. Instead of stifling resistance, Collins’ imprisonment actually spurred the development of new campaigns and organizations tailored to advocate for Black political prisoners.

Campaigns around the cases of Black draft resisters like Collins also reveal the particular ways in which civil rights activists engaged in anti-war organizing. Collins’ supporters constructed a large and diverse coalition, and in the process, they developed a critique of the draft as a weapon against movements for social and racial justice. Their campaign blurred the line between foreign policy and domestic politics, revealing how thoughtfully Black civil rights activists situated themselves on the world stage during the 1960s and 70s.

From Civil Rights to Draft Resistance

Walter Collins was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. His family had a long history of involvement in the Southern Black Freedom Struggle. His maternal grandparents, Arthur and Izama Young, were active in the fight to abolish the poll tax, and they helped establish a school system for Black students in Plaquemines Parish, Louisiana. They belonged to the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), one of the nation’s earliest civil rights organizations, and the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), a group founded by Marcus Garvey on a platform of racial pride and economic self-sufficiency.[3] These groups offered the Youngs and other African American families important organizational structures for challenging discrimination in employment, voting, and education.

Civil rights organizers leading a column of participants in 1963's March on Washington.
Civil rights organizers leading a column of participants in 1963’s March on Washington up Constitution Avenue in Washington, D. C. Martin Luther King, Jr. is situated in the middle of the first row of marchers. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Collins’ mother, born Virginia Young, followed in her parent’s footsteps. She engaged in activism surrounding voting rights, reparations, and police violence, and she participated in landmark events, like the March on Washington in 1963. She held leadership positions in organizations including the Southern Conference Educational Fund (SCEF), an interracial civil rights group, and the Universal Association of Ethiopian Women (UAEW), a Pan-African organization founded by Audley “Queen Mother” Moore. During the late 1960s, she became a regional vice president of the Republic of New Africa (RNA), a Black nationalist organization, and she adopted the name Dara Abubakari around this time.[4]

Walter Collins’ career as an activist began in the early 1960s, when he participated in the New Orleans sit-in movement as a high school student. During the following years, he attended Louisiana State University in New Orleans and worked with groups like SCEF and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) to organize communities across the Deep South around issues including voting rights, working conditions, and public education. At the time of his arrest, Collins was active in SCEF’s Grass Roots Organizing Work (GROW) project in Laurel, Mississippi, where he and his colleagues provided support to a local woodcutter’s union.[5]

Over the course of the 1960s, as the Vietnam War escalated, Collins became more deeply involved in anti-war activism. In this respect, he was not unique. While the popular imagery of the 1960s and 1970s anti-war movement typically centers on white students, activists involved in civil rights and Black Power organizing were among the most vocal critics of the war. Many viewed American intervention in Vietnam as an imperialist project, and they objected to the enormous financial cost of the war, which undercut domestic programs. The draft also became a major issue, as Black men were overrepresented as draftees and among wartime casualties.[6] Leading civil rights organizations and activists issued statements and delivered speeches condemning the war.[7]

In April 1967, for instance, Martin Luther King Jr. deplored American militarism in a powerful speech entitled “Beyond Vietnam.” Speaking at Riverside Church in New York City, King directed criticism toward the draft, which took “black young men who had been crippled by our society and [sent] them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem.”[8] Sharing many of these concerns, Collins joined the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors (CCCO). He also began providing informal draft counseling to Black students in New Orleans, quickly gaining a reputation for his knowledge on the subject.[9]

Martin Luther King, Jr. speaking at an April 1967 rally against the Vietnam War on the campus of the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis
Martin Luther King, Jr. speaking at an April 1967 rally against the Vietnam War on the campus of the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. Source: Wikimedia Commons/Minnesota Historical Society. Image reproduced under the terms of Creative Commons’ Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic License.

Black women like Dara Abubakari also played critical roles in anti-war and anti-draft organizing. They published news articles, created and distributed literature, and established organizations, including the National Black Anti-War Anti-Draft Union (NBAWADU). Some of these women framed their activism in gendered terms and relied on their positions as wives or mothers to claim authority on the subject.[10] Gwendolyn Patton, a NBAWADU founder and SNCC member, laid out this logic in an article published in 1968. She wrote: “If there has ever been a time when we want to know what we can do for the revolution, we can begin now by not allowing this system to draft our sons, our loved ones, our men.”[11] Abubakari consistently used her position as the mother to spark conversations about the war with other women and to advocate on behalf of Collins and other draft resisters.

The Draft as Political Repression

In January 1967, Draft Board 156 in New Orleans reclassified Collins as 1-A, meaning that he was eligible for military service. When he initially registered with the Selective Service System in 1963, Collins received a student deferment. He supplied the required material to confirm his status as a full-time student between 1964 and 1966, but failed to provide this evidence in January 1967, leading to his reclassification. Over the next three years, Collins’ conflict with the draft board intensified. In August 1967, they attempted to send him an induction notice, but it was delivered to the wrong address. After receiving the second notice in September, and learning that he no longer had a student deferment, Collins tried to register as a conscientious objector. While draft officials supplied the required paperwork, they informed him that it was too late to submit it because he had already received an induction notice. Between September and the following March, Collins received four additional notices and failed to report for induction each time. On two occasions, he actually appeared at the induction center, but officials turned him away for wearing an anti-war pin and carrying anti-war literature.[12]

While Collins’ student deferment may have legitimately expired, many of his SCEF colleagues believed his civil rights and anti-war activism had factored into the draft board’s decision. As SCEF Executive Director Anne Braden recounted, Collins’ “trouble with the draft started in the fall of 1966, just after he [had] spent the summer organizing opposition to the Vietnam War in New Orleans.”[13] Many civil rights and anti-war groups experienced heightened government surveillance and repression during the 1960s. Through initiatives like the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s (FBI) Counterintelligence Program (COINTELPRO) and the Central Intelligence Agency’s (CIA) Operation CHAOS, government officials illegally surveilled, infiltrated, and discredited civil rights, Black Power, and anti-war organizations. For activists like Collins, it seemed that draft boards were performing a similar function. Numerous activists associated with groups like SCEF and SNCC were drafted during this period. In June of 1967, for instance, SNCC reported that seventeen members had already been indicted for draft resistance.[14] Others were arrested for holding anti-war demonstrations at induction centers.[15] Within this context, Collins’ supporters understood his being drafted as a form of political repression. They viewed him as a draft resister and a political prisoner.

"The enemy is racism": two graphics combining antiwar and pro-civil rights messaging.
“The enemy is racism”: two graphics combining antiwar and pro-civil rights messaging.
Source: Flo Kennedy, “Harlem Against the War,” The Movement 3, no. 5 (May 1967).

On June 18, 1968, Collins was indicted on six counts of refusing induction. His case came before the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Louisiana in July 1969, and the jury found him guilty of five counts of draft evasion. Judge Edward Boyle sentenced Collins to five years for each count—to be served concurrently—and issued a fine of $2,000.[16] Following his sentencing, Collins and his legal team brought the case before the Fifth U.S. Court of Appeals in New Orleans. They focused their case on two key issues. First, the composition of Draft Board 156 violated Section 10(b)(3) of the Selective Service Act. Four of the board’s five members were not residents of the area that it covered, and the chair was not even a resident of Orleans Parish. Other draft resisters had successfully appealed their sentences on this basis. Second, Collins and his attorneys took the argument further by claiming that, regardless of residency, the all-white draft board could not be representative of the majority Black population that it covered. This was a major issue across the country and particularly in the South. In Louisiana, along with a handful of other Southern states, there were no Black members serving on draft boards as of 1966.[17] Despite these efforts, however, Collins’ appeal was unsuccessful.

After the Fifth U.S. Court of Appeals refused to overturn Collins’ sentence in April 1970, his attorneys turned to the U.S. Supreme Court. They filed three petitions in August, November, and December of 1970, but the court ultimately declined to hear the case. Authorities arrested Collins in his home in New Orleans in November 1970 and placed him in Parish Prison.[18] There, he awaited transfer to the federal prison in Texarkana, Texas.

“Free Walter Collins and All Political Prisoners!”

Although Collins’ appeals failed, his supporters continued advocating on his behalf. They circulated petitions, published articles, and organized demonstrations to publicize his case. Drawing from prior experience organizing defense campaigns, Abubakari worked with colleagues in SCEF and other groups to spearhead a popular campaign on Collins’ behalf. In addition to financially supporting his legal defense, SCEF coordinated a publicity campaign around the case in hopes that public protest would pressure officials to reverse his sentence. Articles about Collins frequently appeared in the group’s monthly publication, the Southern Patriot, and in its news briefs. The organization also distributed fliers with information about his case. One flier from 1970 titled “An Enemy of the People” characterized the draft as “a weapon to jail young men who are active in movements against social injustice.”[19] The author urged readers to actively support Collins and other political prisoners by writing to Judge Boyle and contributing funds to the legal defense. SCEF also circulated petitions that accumulated almost 20,000 signatures.[20]

An article about Collins published by the Southern Patriot, the official publication of the Southern Conference Educational Fund (SCEF), in October 1970
An article about Collins published by the Southern Patriot, the official publication of the Southern Conference Educational Fund (SCEF), in October 1970.
Image courtesy of the author.

While SCEF provided an important base for organizing on behalf of Collins, Abubakari also worked to create a more permanent organization dedicated solely to defending Black draft resisters. On the weekend of March 5, 1971, just a few months after the December demonstrations in Washington, D.C., Abubakari and other delegates reconvened in the national capitol. They congregated at the NABS headquarters and founded the International Committee for Black Resisters (ICBR). The founding members, who included notable activists like Ella Baker and Queen Mother Moore, laid out the following program:

  1. International support for Black resisters and political prisoners;
  2. Opposition to apprehension of Black men into the military or into jail for refusing the military;
  3. Research and communications on the international level about the cases of Black resisters and political prisoners;
  4. An international Legal Resistance Network;
  5. Black draft counseling and programmatic planning for high school students;
  6. “Free Walter Collins” campaign.[21]

In Abubakari’s words, the ICBR aimed to “internationalize the struggle for Black draft resisters and to generate international and national support for their release.”[22] As her statement suggests, ICBR members not only worked to free Collins but also supported larger campaigns to provide amnesty to all Black draft resisters. Collins’ supporters also looked to international forums to publicize the case, and they distributed petitions abroad through organizations like Amnesty International. They understood their project as global in scope and explicitly sought international support for U.S. political prisoners. Although there are few traces of ICBR activities in the historical record after this founding meeting, the group’s platform, and their particular emphasis on the status of Black draft resisters, represented an important intervention within the anti-war movement.

Following the meeting, Abubakari embarked on a cross-country tour with Carl Braden, a longtime civil rights activist and SCEF director. They visited college campuses, churches, and community centers in over forty states to publicize Collins’ case. Abubakari delivered speeches in cities across the United States, including New York, Chicago, Louisville, Austin, and Los Angeles.[23] When asked about her upcoming plans in November 1971, Abubakari emphasized her determination to free her son. She responded, “I’ll finish a whole year of touring and if Walter’s not out of prison by then, I’ll start all over again.”[24]

One of the petitions circulated by the SCEF during its campaign to free Walter Collins.
One of the petitions circulated by the SCEF during its campaign to free Walter Collins.
Image courtesy of the Georgia State University Library’s Special Collections Division.

While Abubakari mobilized activists across the country on his behalf, Collins translated his organizing skills to a new context—the federal prison in Texarkana, Texas. While imprisoned, Collins allied himself with fellow inmates to protest mail censorship, corporal punishment, and the lack of adequate medical care in the facility. Firsthand experience with long-term incarceration not only solidified his understanding of his predicament as political repression, but it also brought him face-to-face with the issues that incarcerated people across the nation—from San Quentin to Attica—raised through legal suits, popular protests, and uprisings. During the spring of 1972, Collins became involved in a hunger strike and work stoppage at Texarkana.[25] Although the strike lasted less than a week, newspaper reports reveal that almost five-hundred men participated in the protest. They compiled a list of grievances addressed to Warden Connett and elected a group, which included Collins, to serve as a negotiating team. In response, prison authorities transferred many of the leaders to other facilities and temporarily placed Collins in solitary confinement.

During the fall of 1972, Collins’ parole board recommended an early supervised-release based on “good time” he had accrued while incarcerated. Although Warden L. M. Connett initially refused to free Collins, based on his participation in the strike earlier that year, he eventually complied due to public pressure. After spending two years in prison, Collins was paroled in December 1972.[26] He joined his SCEF colleagues in extending his gratitude to supporters: “Protests from across the nation and around the world helped the warden to change his mind about keeping Collins in prison for an extra five months and voiding his chances of parole. . . . Walter Collins joins the board and staff of SCEF and the editors of The Southern Patriot in thanking all of those who supported him and his fellow prisoners while he was at Texarkana.”[27]

Walter Collins imprisoned at the federal penitentiary in Texarkana, Texas after his conviction for refusing induction
Walter Collins imprisoned at the federal penitentiary in Texarkana, Texas after his conviction for refusing induction.
Image courtesy of the author.

Following his release, Collins remained active in campaigns to free draft resisters and other political prisoners. In 1977, President Jimmy Carter granted full pardons to any person who had violated the Selective Service Act between 1964 and 1973. Collins went on to serve as an Executive Director of SCEF and a coordinator for the National Moratorium on Prison Construction in Atlanta, Georgia. During the late 1980s, he returned to New Orleans, and in 1995, at the age of fifty, he passed away after being diagnosed with cancer.[28]

Conclusion

Walter Collins was one of many political prisoners whose legal cases captured national attention and inspired widespread protest during the 1960s and 1970s. Although the individuals and organizations involved in this campaign did not achieve all of their goals—Collins’ eventual release was based on procedure rather than a landmark court case and the ICBR seems to have had only a brief existence—they were able to construct coalitions and develop strategies that could be used in future organizing. Both Abubakari and Collins continued to participate in campaigns to free draft resisters and political prisoners, and they shared the skills they developed with other activists. They led workshops on movement building, spoke at demonstrations, and provided organizational support for other campaigns.

Studying defense campaigns allows historians and community organizers to think more expansively about social movements and their relative success. Defense campaigns were not only logistical solutions to political repression but also represented important sites where participants articulated larger ideas about freedom and justice. Collins’ supporters did not only object to the drafting of conscientious objectors, but to the draft and the war more generally. They understood all draft resisters, and particularly Black draft resisters, as political prisoners, and they used the campaign to free Walter Collins as a space to organize around these issues. By engaging seriously with the ideas that activists involved in defense campaigns put forward and exploring the various strategies that they developed, we can think more critically about their impact over time, while also identifying tools that might be useful in present struggles for racial and social justice.


[1] “Widespread Support Builds For Black Draft Resisters,” Southern Patriot 28, no. 10 (December 1970): 8; Fred Shuttlesworth and Carl Braden to SCEF Board, Advisory Committee and Staff, November 18th, 1970, Anne and Carl Braden Papers, Box 76, Folder 2, Wisconsin Historical Society; “News from Southern Conference Educational (SCEF),” December 11th, 1970, GI Press Collection, 1964-1977, Wisconsin Historical Society, https://content.wisconsinhistory.org/digital/collection/p15932coll8/id/25229.

[2] David Cortright, Peace: A History of Movements and Ideas (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 165.

[3] Ashley Farmer, “Mothers of Pan-Africanism: Audley Moore and Dara Abubakari,” Women, Gender, and Families of Color 4, no. 2 (Fall 2016): 276, 286.

[4] “SCEF Blasts Hoover On ‘Justice’ Remark,” Chicago Daily Defender, November 27th, 1968, 10; “Orleanian Named VP of Republic of New Africa,” Louisiana Weekly, April 19th, 1969, 1; “Women taking deeper look at cause of war,” Daily World, July 19th, 1969, 10; “Republic New Africa’s New Executive Council,” New York Amsterdam News, April 25th, 1970, 3; “Mrs. Collins Is Delegate To Women’s Congress,” Louisiana Weekly, July 25th, 1970, 2; Ashley Farmer, “Reframing African American Women’s Grassroots Organizing: Audley Moore and the Universal Association of Ethiopian Women, 1957-1963,” Journal of African American History 101, no 1-2 (Winter/Spring 2016): 87-89.

[5] “SCEF Worker Convicted For Refusing Draft,” Southern Patriot 27, no. 7 (September 1969): 4; “Cancel Summer Vacations For Ballot Fight,” Louisiana Weekly, June 22nd, 1963, 1; Bob Zellner, “Report, Evaluation, and Proposals for the Future,” November 13th, 1970, Civil Rights Vertical Files, Box 159-13, Folder 11, Moorland-Spingarn Research Center, Howard University; Walter Collins, interview by Kim Lacy Rogers, Part 6, May 20th, 1979, Box 4, Side 2, Kim Lacy Rogers Civil Rights Oral History Collection, Tulane University, New Orleans, Louisiana, https://digitallibrary.tulane.edu/islandora/object/tulane%3A83107; Kim Lacy Rogers, Righteous Lives: Narratives of the New Orleans Civil Rights Movement (New York: NYU Press, 1993), 20.

[6] Office of Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense, “Negroes and the War in South-East Asia,” Anne and Carl Braden Papers, Box 76, Folder 2, Wisconsin Historical Society.

[7] See, for instance: Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, “MFDP and Viet Nam,” July 31st, 1965, https://www.crmvet.org/docs/pr/650731_mfdp_pr_vietnam.pdf; Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, “Statement on Vietnam,” January 6th, 1966, https://www.crmvet.org/docs/snccviet.htm; Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, “Report on Draft Program,” 1966, https://www.crmvet.org/docs/6608_sncc_draft-resist.pdf; Diane Nash Bevel, “Journey to North Vietnam,” Freedomways 7, no. 2 (Spring 1967): 118-128, https://www.crmvet.org/info/67_nash_vietnam.pdf; Flo Kennedy, “Harlem Against the Draft,” The Movement 3, no. 5 (May 1967): https://www.crmvet.org/docs/mvmt/6705mvmt.pdf; Huey P. Newton, “Message on the Peace Movement [1969],” in The Black Panthers Speak, ed. Philip S. Foner (Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Press, 1995), 67-70.

[8] Martin Luther King Jr., “Beyond Vietnam—A Time to Break Silence,” April 4th, 1967, https://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkatimetobreaksilence.htm. King’s longtime associate Vincent Harding wrote the original draft of this speech.

[9] “On the Military: Interview with Walter Collins,” Southern Exposure 1, no. 1 (Spring 1973): 6; “SUNO Students To Strike If 10 Demands Are Not Met,” Louisiana Weekly, April 12th, 1969, 1, 7; Marcus S. Cox, “‘Keep Our Black Warriors Out of the Draft’: The Vietnam Antiwar Movement at Southern University, 1968-1973,” Educational Foundations (Winter/Spring 2006): 123-144, https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ751764.pdf.

[10] Ashley Farmer, “’Heed the Call!’ Black Women, Anti-Imperialism, and Black Anti-War Activism,” Black Perspectives, August 3rd, 2016, https://www.aaihs.org/heed-the-call-black-women-anti-imperialism-and-black-anti-war-activism/; Rhonda Y. Williams, Concrete Demands: The Search for Black Power in the 20th Century (New York: Taylor & Francis, 2014), 143-146; Lauren Mottle, “‘We Resist on the Grounds We Aren’t Citizens’: Black Draft Resistance in the Vietnam War Era,” Journal of Civil and Human Rights 6, no. 2 (Fall/Winter 2020): 26-52.

[11] Gwen Patton, “Black Militants and the War,” Student Mobilizer, January 1, 1968, GI Press Collection, 1964-1977, Wisconsin Historical Society, https://content.wisconsinhistory.org/digital/collection/p15932coll8/id/34169.

[12] United States v. Collins, 426 F.2d 765 (5th Cir. 1970).

[13] Annie Braden, “Southern Group Launches Campaign,” Baltimore Afro-American, October 11th, 1969, 18.

[14] “New SNCC Leaders Outline Their Plans,” Southern Patriot 25, no. 6 (June 1967): 1, 6; “Fred Brooks Refuses Draft,” Southern Patriot 25, no. 11 (December 1967): 4; “‘You Can’t Do This To Me’: Draft Evader Gets 5 Years,” Miami Herald, April 28, 1968, 22-A; “Black Draft Resisters: Does Anybody Care? A Fact Sheet,” undated, Anne and Carl Braden Papers, Box 76, Folder 2, Wisconsin Historical Society.

[15] “SNCC Workers Indicted,” The Movement 3, no. 5 (Spring 1967): 4.

[16] United States v. Collins, 426 F.2d 765 (5th Cir. 1970); “Orleans Man Indicted On Draft Charges,” Shreveport Journal, June 19th, 1968, 12; “Louisiana Man Indicted On Draft Charges,” Daily Advertiser, June 19, 1968, 12; “Collins Is Free On Bond Pending Appeal of Term,” Shreveport Journal, July 10th, 1969, 20; “Sentenced To 5 Years In Draft Case,” Louisiana Weekly, July 19th, 1969, 1; “Jail Black Activist As A Draft Evader,” Michigan Chronicle, July 26th, 1969, 15.

[17] United States v. Collins, 426 F.2d 765 (5th Cir. 1970); “‘Bias’ Charged In New Orleans Draft Case,” Chicago Daily Defender, August 8th, 1970, 20; “US Argues against Collins Appeal,” Southern Patriot 28, no. 9 (November 1970): 5; News Release, Office of Public Information, Selective Service System, December 16th, 1970, Anne and Carl Braden Papers, Box 76, Folder 2, Wisconsin Historical Society, 6.

[18] United States v. Collins, 426 F.2d 765 (5th Cir. 1970); Walter Collins v. U.S., 400 U.S. 919 (1970); “Court Upholds Charges Against Walter Collins,” Louisiana Weekly, May 9th, 1970, 9; “Court Rejects Challenge Of Draft Board Alignment,” Town Talk, November 16th, 1970, 4; “Judge Boyle Refuses To Cut Draft Resister’s Term,” Louisiana Weekly, February 27th, 1971, 5; “Nab La. Activist on draft dodge rap,” Chicago Daily Defender, December 1st, 1970, 4; “24-year-old draft activist arrested to serve 5 years,” Baltimore Afro-American, December 12th, 1970, 16.

[19] Southern Conference Educational Fund, “An Enemy of the People,” GI Press Collection, 1964-1977, Wisconsin Historical Society, https://content.wisconsinhistory.org/digital/collection/p15932coll8/id/61302/rec/148.

[20] Southern Conference Educational Fund Revenue and Expense Operating Fund, June 30th, 1970, Civil Rights Vertical Files, Box 159-13, Folder 11, Moorland-Spingarn Research Center, Howard University; Southern Conference Educational Fund, “An Enemy of the People,” GI Press Collection, 1964-1977, Wisconsin Historical Society, https://content.wisconsinhistory.org/digital/collection/p15932coll8/id/61302/rec/148; “20,000 petition Nixon for black,” Chicago Defender, February 17th, 1971, 27.

[21] “International Black Draft Resisters Committee Formed in Washington,” Sun Reporter, March 20th, 1971, 13; “Draft Resisters Group Formed,” Los Angeles Sentinel, March 25th, 1971, A2; “Draft Resisters Organize in Washington,” Sacramento Observer, March 25th, 1971, C10; “Group organized to aid black draft dodgers,” Chicago Daily Defender, April 10th, 1971, 14.

[22] “International Black Draft Resisters Committee Formed in Washington,” Sun Reporter, March 20th, 1971, 13.

[23] “Lawman Guest Speaker,” New York Amsterdam News, April 17th, 1971, 28; “Freedom for draft resisters,” Chicago Daily Defender, October 23rd, 1971, 18; “Foe of draft to speak,” Courier-Journal, May 16th, 1971, 24; “Interracial Officials Due at UT,” Austin Statesman, June 14th, 1971, 8; “Prisoner’s Mother Guests,” Los Angeles Sentinel, November 11th, 1971, B6.

[24] Jean Murphy, “Lifelong Battler in Struggle to Free Jailed Draft Resisters,” Los Angeles Times, November 14th, 1971, D3.

[25] “Inmates End Strike At Texarkana Prison,” Corpus Christi Times, April 12th, 1972, 11; “Men Strike in Texarkana,” Southern Patriot 30, no. 5 (April 1972): 6; “News from the Southern Conference Educational Fund (SCEF),” May 10th, 1972, 1; “Collins Letters on Revolt,” Southern Patriot 30, no. 5 (May 1972): 6; “Federal Prisoners Protest,” San Antonio Register, July 7th, 1971, 7.

[26] “Walter Collins’ Parole in Doubt,” Southern Patriot 30, no. 8 (October 1972): 8; “Collins Wins Release,” Southern Patriot 30, no. 9 (November 1972): 8; “Draft Resister Freed One Month Late,” New Pittsburgh Courier, January 6th, 1973, 22.

[27] “Collins Wins Release,” Southern Patriot 30, no. 9 (November 1972): 8.

[28] “New executive director of SCEF is named,” Courier-Journal, December 12th, 1973, 12; ; “Statement of Walter J. Collins, Coordinator, National Moratorium on Prison Construction,” in Hearing Before a Subcommittee of the Committee on Government Operations, House of Representatives (Washington, D.C.: U. S. Government Printing Office, 1983), 125, https://www.ojp.gov/pdffiles1/Digitization/88401NCJRS.pdf; Jeanne Friedman, “Fallen Comrades: Walter Collins,” http://www.vvaw.org/veteran/article/?id=305.

The views and opinions expressed in this article or video are those of the individual author(s) or presenter(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policy or views of the editors at Not Even Past, the UT Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin, or the UT System Board of Regents. Not Even Past is an online public history magazine rather than a peer-reviewed academic journal. While we make efforts to ensure that factual information in articles was obtained from reliable sources, Not Even Past is not responsible for any errors or omissions.

Filed Under: 1900s, Cold War, Crime/Law, Features, Politics, Race/Ethnicity, Transnational, United States, War Tagged With: 20th Century, black history, US History, Vietnam War

Prisoners of the Cold War

banner image for Prisoners of the Cold War

I grew up watching reruns of The Prisoner, a classic sixties television series created and produced by the famously eccentric TV icon Patrick McGoohan. McGoohan also stars in the series, playing a disillusioned British spy struggling to escape his allotted role in the Cold War. A striking opening montage sets the plot in motion. McGoohan’s spy is shown storming into his boss’ office, where, after a ferocious argument, he resigns from his job. Immediately thereafter, he jumps into his sleek Lotus sportscar (this is, after all, the age of Bond) and heads for home. But danger is hot on his heels: two unidentified thugs, disguised as undertakers and driving a hearse, surreptitiously pursue the Lotus across central London. The hearse arrives at the spy’s townhouse; the thugs emerge and flood the house with gas; the spy, in the parlor, is knocked unconscious. Sometime later, he reawakens in what initially looks like the same room. But a glance out the window reveals otherwise. The spy has been kidnapped, and his captors have transported him . . . not to a cell block, but to a picturesque seaside resort town.

A contemporary photograph of Portmeiron, Wales, the seaside resort town used to portray the fictitious "Village" in The Prisoner
A contemporary photograph of Portmeiron, Wales, the seaside resort town used to portray the fictitious “Village” in The Prisoner. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

At first glance, “The Village,” whose outwardly cheerful inhabitants go by numbers instead of names, appears to be a harmonious, democratic utopia. But McGoohan’s character, rechristened “Number Six” upon arrival, quickly discovers that his new home is actually a prison for spies. Real power is concentrated in the hands of Number Two, a sinister Village grandee who torments, brainwashes, and interrogates residents on behalf of a mysterious, unseen Number One. To this treatment, Number Six refuses to submit. “I am not a Number!” he declares at the beginning of every Prisoner episode. “I am a free man!” The statement becomes a sort of motto for the show, which revolves around Number Six’s attempts escape from the Village and expose Number One.

A bust of Patrick McGoohan on display in Portmeiron
A bust of Patrick McGoohan on display in Portmeiron. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Over the course of sixteen episodes, the Village keeps Six engaged in a deadly game of cat and mouse, always managing to prevent him from slipping out of its grasp. But in The Prisoner’s seventeenth and final installment, McGoohan’s character manages to turn the tables with help from a couple of unlikely allies. The first, a young man referred to by the Villagers as Number Forty-Eight, embodies the defiant weirdness of late sixties counterculture, communicating exclusively by means of hip, irreverent, but also basically incomprehensible slang. The second ally, in a twist, is Number Two, who has become just as dissatisfied with his role as Number Six.

Suddenly, the well-ordered Village has to contend with what one of its leaders describes as “two forms of revolt. The first—uncoordinated youth rebelling against nothing it can define. The second—an established, successful, secure member of the Establishment turning upon and biting the hand that feeds him.” The Villagers respond by staging a show trial, charging Forty-Eight and Two with a series of absurd and revealing “crimes” (“unhealthy habits of speech and dress not in accordance with general practice”; “betraying the trust of the Establishment”; “going over to the Other Side”; and so on). However, the trial descends into chaos, giving Number Six and the two defendants a chance to make their escape. Arming themselves, they shoot their way out of the Village, hijack a van, and flee to London.

It’s a moment of triumph—or, at least, it should be. Yet something remains indefinably but very definitely wrong. The clues are everywhere. At one point, McGoohan’s Six confronts a cloaked figure whom he believes to be Number One, only to discover his own doppelganger concealed beneath the cloak. Later, after the escapees reach London, Number Two quietly joins a throng of officials entering the Houses of Parliament, calling into question his rebellion against the “Establishment.” Most alarming of all, though, are the recurring suggestions that Number Six is still under Village control, even though he believes himself to be living freely back in London. The Prisoner’s enigmatic final scenes raise a disturbing possibility: maybe the Village itself is more than just a physical location; maybe, instead, it’s a system of people and ideas, a system apparently capable of extending itself throughout the world.

As a child, I watched The Prisoner as a straightforward (if unusual) espionage thriller. Recently, I tried rewatching it—and discovered not a thriller but a prescient political allegory. The power struggle that plays out in the Village, pitting jaded elites and rebellious “free men” against an increasingly repressive and reactionary “Establishment,” reproduces in miniature the one historian Jeremi Suri has described in Power and Protest, his prize-winning book on the origins of détente during the Cold War. Unlike The Prisoner, Power and Protest is not designed to entertain: Suri’s book is serious, scholarly, and challenging. But it is packed with bold claims which make it a must-read for anyone interested in international relations. It also sheds light on the development and political significance of sixties counterculture—the same counterculture Patrick McGoohan channeled to create The Prisoner.

book cover for Jeremi Suri's book, power and protest

Suri’s narrative begins in the 1950s when rising East-West tensions and the threat of nuclear destruction placed new strains on political systems the world over. In response, frustrated statesmen in China (Mao Zedong), France (Charles De Gaulle), the Soviet Union (Nikita Khrushchev), and the United States (John F. Kennedy) experimented with new, charismatic styles of politics designed to transcend the deadlocked Cold War. At the same time, an international “language of dissent” invented by anti-establishment writers took root on university campuses on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Young people rejected the logic of the Cold War and denounced the overblown, usually unfulfilled promises of charismatic politicians. They also “grew visibly more violent” until, in 1968, their “rebellion produced revolution.” Challenges from above and below, from the Village elite and their restive, unruly prisoners, pushed the international system to the breaking point.

However, as the rest of Suri’s book shows, the international system fought back. In order to defeat the global “revolution” of 1968, a new fraternity of world leaders—led by West Germany’s Willy Brandt, the Soviet Union’s Leonid Brezhnev, U. S. president Richard Nixon, and a chastened, more conservative Mao—“colluded to stabilize their societies and preserve their authority.” Détente, the programmed de-escalation of the Cold War, helped repair their damaged reputations and allowed them to prioritize social welfare instead of military preparedness. Unfortunately, the new politics of peace and well-being was also “profoundly conservative” and deeply manipulative. “The promise of detente,” Suri explains, “became a stick with which to beat domestic critics. . . . It made the sacrifices of the Cold War appear ‘normal,’ and it further isolated policymakers from their publics. In this way, detente contributed to the pervasive skepticism of our postmodern age.”

Richard Nixon and Leonid Brezhnev conversing during Brezhnev's 1973 visit to the United States
Richard Nixon and Leonid Brezhnev conversing during Brezhnev’s 1973 visit to the United States. Source: National Archives.

Power and Protest thus narrates the prehistory of the “post-truth” world we live in today. It also reveals that The Prisoner, produced on the eve of revolution in 1967–68, was both remarkably insightful and ultimately blind to the limitations of its own anti-establishment critique. In an early episode, Number Six asks Number Two “which side” of the Iron Curtain Number One and his henchmen stand on. Two’s response speaks volumes. “It doesn’t matter which side runs the Village,” he tells Six. “[B]oth sides are becoming identical. What has been created is an international community, a blueprint for world order. When both sides realize they’re the same, they’ll see this is the pattern for the future.” Like the revolutionaries of 1968, Six chooses to rebel against this dystopian vision of a peaceful but uniformly repressive international system. But ultimately, neither the Prisoner nor his real-world counterparts were able to realize their desire for freedom. Instead, thanks to the détente they inadvertently catalyzed, they remained prisoners of the Cold War.


John Gleb is a doctoral candidate in the Department of History at the University of Texas at Austin and a Graduate Student Fellow at the Clements Center for National Security.

The views and opinions expressed in this article or video are those of the individual author(s) or presenter(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policy or views of the editors at Not Even Past, the UT Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin, or the UT System Board of Regents. Not Even Past is an online public history magazine rather than a peer-reviewed academic journal. While we make efforts to ensure that factual information in articles was obtained from reliable sources, Not Even Past is not responsible for any errors or omissions.

Filed Under: 1900s, Cold War, Europe, Fiction, Ideas/Intellectual History, Politics, Reviews, Transnational, War Tagged With: Cold War, Jeremi Suri, Protests, television

Burying the Lede? The Iran Hostage Crisis “October Surprise” and Me

Introduction by John Gleb

In February 1979, a popular revolution in Iran overthrew the authoritarian government of Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, a key ally of the United States. Ten months later, on November 4th, 1979, Iranian college students demonstrating against U. S. support for the Shah seized control of the U. S. embassy compound in Tehran, taking fifty-two U. S. diplomats, embassy workers, and compound guards hostage. The students held the hostages prisoner for the next 444 days.

The Iran Hostage Crisis was acutely embarrassing to the administration of embattled U. S. president Jimmy Carter. As a result, it became a major domestic political issue during the 1980 presidential election campaign, in which Carter, a Democrat, tried to fend off a challenge from Republican rival Ronald Reagan. Carter ultimately lost the election. Two months later, in January 1981, U. S. diplomats and Iranian officials reached an agreement that secured the release of the hostages. The hostages left Iran on January 20th, 1981, the same day Reagan assumed office.

Over the course of the last four decades, journalists and members of Congress have repeatedly investigated allegations that members of the Reagan campaign contacted or colluded with Iranian officials to prevent the release of the hostages prior to the 1980 election–an event that would have constituted an “October surprise” favorable to Carter. None of the allegations have been conclusively substantiated. However, one of them made national headlines earlier this year. Its source is Ben Barnes, a former Lieutenant Governor of Texas who worked alongside former state governor John Connally to support Reagan’s 1980 presidential campaign. In a March 2023 interview published by the New York Times, Barnes claimed that Connally, working through intermediaries in the Middle East, had attempted to persuade Iranian officials not to release the U. S. embassy hostages prior to the general election.

As the Times notes, Barnes’ allegation is hard to verify or disprove in the absence of fresh documentary evidence. But if the allegation is true, is it also consequential? Several years before he spoke to the Times, Barnes told his story to H. W. Brands, a distinguished historian at the University of Texas at Austin. Brands included the story in his recently-published biography of Ronald Reagan. However, he declined to place Barnes, Connally, or their alleged co-conspirators close to the center of his book’s main narrative. In the article below, Brands explains why.

This article was originally published as part of “A User’s Guide to History,” H. W. Brands’ Substack newsletter. Images have been added by Not Even Past.


Ten years ago I was researching a biography of Ronald Reagan. I had gone through the available written records at the Reagan Library in California and other archives and was interviewing people who had known Reagan. I ran into Ben Barnes, a former lieutenant governor of Texas and a generally well-connected political person, and casually asked if he had had any dealings with Reagan.

Former Texas governor Ben Barnes in 2019. Barnes, who served as vice chairman of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Foundation, was photographed at an event in honor of then-Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Barnes proceeded to tell me about a trip he had taken during the summer of 1980 with John Connally to the Middle East. Connally was a former governor of Texas, former secretary of the Treasury, former Democrat, and recent unsuccessful candidate for the Republican nomination for president. Connally had his eye on a job in a Reagan administration, should the Reagan campaign against Jimmy Carter succeed. Secretary of state was the one he wanted, and a Middle Eastern trip would burnish his foreign-policy credentials.

The trip had another purpose, as Barnes volunteered to me. A principal allegation of the Reagan campaign was that Carter was a weak leader, as witnessed by his inability to effect the release of several dozen American hostages held in Iran since the previous November. The Reagan campaign, headed by William Casey, was worried that events would prove their allegation wrong: to wit, that negotiations to free the hostages would succeed. This “October surprise” might negate Reagan’s lead in the polls and allow Carter to defeat him.

Barnes related that during their Middle East trip, Connally told government officials in Israel and several Arab countries that it would “not be helpful”—Barnes’s paraphrase of Connally—for the hostages to be released before the November election. I asked Barnes if Casey had told Connally to convey that message. Barnes said he wasn’t informed and didn’t ask.

Two of the Americans held hostage in Tehran during the crisis of 1979-80. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

I included this account in my Reagan book, published in 2015. I was somewhat disappointed that it didn’t receive much attention. But only somewhat. I didn’t draw particular attention to the story, rather embedding it in a longer telling of the allegations and investigations of the October Surprise since rumors had first surfaced during the campaign itself. (The affair was called October Surprise despite the conspicuous absence of the surprise the Reagan team feared.) And my longer telling started only at page 231 of a very long book on Reagan’s life.

The Barnes part was not even the most consequential piece of the story. Among the allegations aired early was a claim that Casey had met some Iranian operatives at a hotel in Madrid. Efforts by congressional investigators in the 1990s to track this down failed in the face of suspiciously missing files in the papers of Casey, by this time deceased. Eventually, though, a State Department memo at the George H. W. Bush Library confirmed the presence of Casey in Madrid—”for purposes unknown”—at the time the meeting with the Iranian middlemen was said to have occurred.

All this made a strong circumstantial case that the Reagan campaign was meddling in the efforts of the Carter administration to obtain the release of the hostages. If true, this would have been a violation of the Logan Act, a 1790s statue forbidding precisely such free-lancing by private individuals in the affairs of state. But the evidence was only circumstantial. Casey was beyond prosecution anyway.

Ronald Reagan speaks with William Casey during a November 1985 National Security Planning Group meeting in the White House Situation Room. Casey, who chaired Reagan’s 1980 presidential campaign, went on to become director of the Central Intelligence Agency. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Perhaps more important in diminishing the impact of my revelation was the circumstance that the Watergate scandal had raised the bar for proof of allegations of misbehavior at the highest levels. Watergate climaxed with discovery of a “smoking gun”: the tape recordings of Nixon in the act of obstructing justice. No such smoking gun had been found regarding Casey and the October Surprise allegations.

No less crucial was that the principals were untouchable. Casey was dead and Reagan had slipped into the fog of dementia. Tarnishing Reagan’s reputation—especially after the Cold War had ended, largely on Reagan’s terms—would have been perceived by many as beating up on a helpless old man who otherwise had done great things for the country and the world.

Lastly, none of the evidence touched Reagan himself. I did uncover a memo in the Connally papers at the Lyndon Johnson Library indicating that Connally spoke to Reagan during the Middle Eastern trip. But it contained no indication as to what was said.

What seems most likely to me is that Casey was working on his own. When he became Reagan’s head of the CIA, he was notorious for doing things he didn’t tell his boss about. Reagan knew Casey’s modus operandi; this was why he was hired for both jobs: running the campaign and running the CIA. The distancing allowed Reagan plausible deniability in the event Casey got caught. You can fire a campaign manager or CIA director; firing a candidate or a president is harder.

There was one other reason I didn’t put the shenanigans of the 1980 campaign on page 1 of my book: They didn’t change anything about the election.

A newly-elected President Reagan speaks at a White House ceremony and reception for the freed American hostages in January 1981. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The hostage-holders hated and feared Carter. The trigger for the capture of the hostages was Carter’s decision to allow the former shah of Iran to come to America for medical treatment. Iranian radicals—and some moderates, too—thought this was a ruse and that Carter was conniving to restore the shah to power, as Dwight Eisenhower had done a quarter-century before. The hostages were insurance against any such scheme. By October 1980, the chances of a restoration were slim, but the Iranians had no desire to see Carter reelected. They weren’t about to boost his chances.

In essence, Casey seems to have been urging the Iranians not to do something they had no intention of doing anyway. So while the October Surprise story revealed something about the sleazy conduct of American political campaigns, it almost certainly had no effect on the broader course of history. 

One of the hostages himself said as much. The story resurfaced last Sunday when the New York Times featured an article by Peter Baker about Ben Barnes and his part in the affair. The article attracted attention, leading to much finger-pointing and chin-tugging. As a follow-up, another Times reporter, Michael Levenson, contacted some of the surviving hostages. Kevin Hermening had been a Marine guard at the U.S. embassy at the time of the seizure. “The Iranians were very clear that they were not going to release us while President Carter was in office,” Hermening said. “He was despised by the mullahs and those people who followed the Ayatollah.”

Kevin Hermening (left) chats with another former hostage at the United States Military Academy in West Point, New York, in January 2011. Hermening and Rosen were present at an event honoring the Americans held hostage in Iran during the crisis of 1979-80. Source: Wikimedia Commons. This photograph by Tommy Gilligan was originally published by the United States Army and is now in the public domain.

My Reagan book did pretty well in the marketplace. Would it have done better had I led with Ben Barnes and the October Surprise? Maybe. I’ve received more calls after the Peter Baker article, which mentions me and observes that I reported the story eight years ago, than I did at the time. My publisher doubtless would have been happy had all the attention occurred around the publishing.

Yet in the end I’m okay with how things turned out. The story is splashy but not really consequential. The life of Reagan is a bigger deal than something that happened during his campaign for president and didn’t even affect that.

Page 231 was the right place, I still think.


The views and opinions expressed in this article or video are those of the individual author(s) or presenter(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policy or views of the editors at Not Even Past, the UT Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin, or the UT System Board of Regents. Not Even Past is an online public history magazine rather than a peer-reviewed academic journal. While we make efforts to ensure that factual information in articles was obtained from reliable sources, Not Even Past is not responsible for any errors or omissions.

Filed Under: 1900s, Asia, Cold War, Features, Middle East, Politics, Transnational, United States, War

Black Women’s Academic Work is Not for the Taking

Note: This article was originally published by Life & Letters, the official magazine of the University of Texas at Austin’s College of Letters and Sciences, in January 2023. Some additional illustrations have been added by Not Even Past. The article is reprinted with permission from Life & Letters.

When Christen Smith attended a conference in 2017, she was shocked to see her work presented – plagiarized – by another academic. It was a painful experience of appropriation, and Smith looked for a way to overcome the feelings of erasure.

At a National Women’s Studies Association Conference in 2018, Smith took a stand against her work being used without proper citation by wearing and selling t-shirts printed with the simple phrase “Cite Black Women.” Those t-shirts quickly transformed into a social movement to honor the work of Black women across academia.

“Citing Black women means actually restructuring the way you think. It’s not like this is being built out of thin air. It’s built out of a legacy of struggle and exploration based on Black feminist thought. Citation is not just about bibliography citation; it’s not just about listing; it’s not just about acknowledgments,” Smith said. “Citation is about honoring genealogical legacies and honoring people’s labor. And so when we say cite Black women, we’re talking about honoring Black women’s labor, honoring Black women’s work, honoring Black women’s time and energy.”

A photographic portrait of Christen Smith. Image courtesy of Christen Smith.

Growing up in Washington, D. C., Smith’s family reinforced the value of Black culture and history. When she began her undergraduate studies at Princeton University, her advisor encouraged her to take classes about Black female literature. That introduction to Black feminism ultimately changed the trajectory of Smith’s intellectual and professional career.

Today, as an associate professor of African and African Diaspora Studies and Anthropology and the director of the Center for Women’s and Gender Studies at The University of Texas at Austin, Smith’s work is largely influenced by the work of Black feminist authors and her research in Brazil (she donates the proceeds of her t-shirt sales to Brazilian community schools). Her work explores Black communities’ experiences with gendered violence, particularly state-sanctioned violence in Latin America, and how society simultaneously consumes and exploits Black culture.

Smith’s work with Cite Black Women has expanded far beyond t-shirts. The project is now a campaign to push people to honor Black women’s intellectual production as they would any other group, to cite them as is expected in academic practice, to critically reflect on their everyday practices, and to question how people from varying academic disciplines can incorporate Black women into the core of their work.

“Cite Black Women really grew out of my experiences with patriarchal violence in the academy. We as Black women are vulnerable and our ideas are thought of as viable territories to be colonized,” Smith said.

From its start at the National Women’s Studies Association Conference in 2018, Cite Black Women has developed into a movement that has expanded to social media, a podcast, and a blog. The Cite Black Women podcast features reflections and conversations about acknowledging and centering Black women’s ideas and intellectual contributions inside and outside of academia through citation. The episodes, hosted by Smith, feature conversations with Black women — with backgrounds varying from academia and scholarship to health and wellness — who actively engage in the Cite Black Women community by recognizing and acknowledging the works of Black women transnationally.

“Citation is truly ancestral invocation and refusing to forget those who’ve come before us by saying their names,” Smith said. “I’m not fighting to be on someone’s bibliography. I’m fighting to have my intellectual self respected, and the intellectual work of my foremothers respected, the intellectual work of my sisters and friends respected.”

The impact of Smith’s work is seen across borders as she speaks with women artists, scholars, authors and activists from Latin America about their experiences with appropriation, racial discrimination, and gendered violence within their fields. For Smith, the collaboration of Black women to create the podcasts represents a collective decolonization of their labor.

“The spike in popularity of Cite Black Women really forced me to take pause and say ‘this is no longer about me and my experience,’” Smith said. “We knew it was more than just a slogan.”

Christen Smith (right) and Cory Pierce Emah pose for a photograph while wearing Cite Black Women T-shirts. Image courtesy of Christen Smith.

Smith’s future projects include creating digital repositories through a collection of oral histories from Black woman anthropologists about their own experiences with appropriation and citation. Smith and her team are building data analyses of citational rates and theoretical analyses of what it means to think about citation as a political and disciplinary practice.

“I’ve gotten emails from all over the country from people who have overhauled their syllabuses, or their library research tools or their classes to follow what Cite Black Women has been doing,” Smith said. “We’re partnering with different groups across many disciplines, way beyond liberal arts, to be able to think through what it looks like to enact change around citational politics in concrete, measurable ways.”

By partnering with other professors, librarians, archivists and activists, the Cite Black Women movement has expanded its reach to motivate people across disciplines to honor the intellectual property of those who historically have been overlooked and whose work has gone uncited.


The views and opinions expressed in this article or video are those of the individual author(s) or presenter(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policy or views of the editors at Not Even Past, the UT Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin, or the UT System Board of Regents. Not Even Past is an online public history magazine rather than a peer-reviewed academic journal. While we make efforts to ensure that factual information in articles was obtained from reliable sources, Not Even Past is not responsible for any errors or omissions.

Filed Under: 2000s, Education, Features, Race/Ethnicity, Research Stories, Teaching Methods, Writers/Literature

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