Saturday, March 1, 2014


WATCH:  Black Students At UCLA Law Feel Like They're In Another Country:


Video Shines Light On The 'Disturbing Emotional Toll' Of Being Black At UCLA Law School

by Rhonesha Byng
Feb 10, 2014
The Huffington Post

On February 10, 2014 a group of students from the UCLA school of Law gathered together to raise awareness of the disturbing emotional toll placed upon students of color due to their alarmingly low representation within the student body.

In an emotional video released earlier this week, students at the UCLA School of Law gathered to share their stories of being among the few black students on campus as part of an awareness campaign simply titled "33."

According to the video, out of roughly 1,100 students, 33 of them are black, that's three percent of the school's student population. Official statistics reveal there are a total of 994 students enrolled getting their Juris Doctor, however, an official from the school says the video's 1,100 figure likely includes students receiving their LL.M. (Master of Laws).

“I am so tired of being on this campus everyday and having to plead my humanity, essentially, to other students. I feel like an outsider constantly. I don’t feel like at my own school I can solely focus on being a student," one woman explained.

"It feels isolating. It feels horrible. It feels like there is a lot of pressure, a lot of weight. It feels like I don't belong. It feels unwelcoming and hostile,” another woman shared.

The students expanded upon their feelings of isolation, and feeling like they have to represent their entire community.

“It’s a constant burden of pressure. I’m constantly policing myself, just being aware of what I say and how it can be interpreted because I essentially am the representation of the black community.”

One woman felt she had been automatically characterized as an "angry black woman" after she disagreed with the views of a particular professor and openly vocalized her thoughts.

"The fact that I was a black woman played a lot into why people stopped listening to me. I felt like if there were maybe more black women in the class, maybe just five of us, people could have seen more of a variation in our responses to what was going on in class and what I felt like was sexism in the classroom."

Lately, students of color have been using the internet to raise awareness about diversity issues on their campuses. Just a few months ago, undergraduate students at UCLA released a video pointing out the fact that UCLA has more NCAA championships than black male freshmen. While students at the University of Michigan ignited a viral conversation on Twitter titled #BBUM (being black at the University of Michigan.)
At the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, the Black Student Union organized a protest on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. A new wave of activism has risen on college campuses in response to racist episodes and a general feeling of isolation among black students. The Michigan group spearheaded a popular social media campaign and has received inquiries from black student groups nationwide who want to pursue similar efforts. Allison Farrand/The Michigan Daily



ANN ARBOR, Mich. — A brochure for the University of Michigan features a vision of multicultural harmony, with a group of students from different racial backgrounds sitting on a verdant lawn, smiling and conversing.

The scene at the undergraduate library one night last week was quite different, as hundreds of students and faculty members gathered for a 12-hour “speak out” to address racial tensions brought to the fore by a party that had been planned for November and then canceled amid protests. The fraternity hosting the party, whose members are mostly Asian and white, had invited “rappers, twerkers, gangsters” and others “back to da hood again.”

Beyond the immediate provocation of the party, a sharp decline in black undergraduate enrollment — to 4.6 percent of the student body in 2013 from 6.2 percent in 2009 — and a general feeling of isolation among black students on campus have prompted a new wave of student activism, including a social media campaign called “Being Black at the University of Michigan” (or, on Twitter. Members of the university’s Black Student Union have petitioned campus administrators to, among other things, increase enrollment of black students to 10 percent.

Similar episodes and tensions have unsettled colleges including Arizona State; the University of California, Los Angeles; the University of Mississippi; and Dartmouth.

In the news media and in popular culture, the notion persists that millennials — born after the overt racial debates and divisions that shaped their parents’ lives — are growing up in a colorblind society in which interracial friendships and marriages are commonplace and racism is largely a relic.

But interviews with dozens of students, professors and administrators at the University of Michigan and elsewhere indicate that the reality is far more complicated, and that racial tensions are playing out in new ways among young adults.

Some experts say the concept of being “postracial” can mean replicating some of the divisions and insensitivity of the past, perhaps more from ignorance than from animus. Others find offensive the idea of a society that strips away deeply personal beliefs surrounding self-identification.

“There’s this preconceived notion that our generation is postracial, but there’s these incidents that happen constantly that disprove that point,” said Zach Fields, a business major here, who is white. He attributed many high-profile incidents — including a number of fraternity parties nationwide that have used racist symbols, including watermelons and gang signs — to ignorance.

“I feel like they don’t mean to be so offensive,” Mr. Fields, 20, said of the party organizers. “It’s not a conscious racism. It’s subconscious.”

Tyrell Collier, 21, the speaker of the Black Student Union, who is majoring in sociology and Afro-American and African studies, said racial tensions on campus had been mounting for months.

“There was a very tense climate brewing all semester, and I think the party was just the peak,” he said. Mr. Collier added that his group, which spearheaded the popular social media campaign, had received inquiries from other black student groups around the country looking to use similar tactics.

“We’re clearly not postracial,” said Tiya A. Miles, chairwoman of the department of Afro-American and African studies. “Sometimes I wonder if having a black president lets people feel like that gives them cover. It absolves people of being prejudiced.”

The number of complaints related to race and ethnicity filed against colleges and universities rose to 860 in 2013 from 555 in 2009, according to the Office for Civil Rights at the federal Education Department. Some experts believe that the increase reflects, at least in part, the role of social media in creating and then publicizing episodes.

Students nationwide responded to a reporter’s request on Facebook and Twitter for stories about racial issues on college campuses. The experiences they described ranged from overt racism to more subtle forms of insensitivity.

Charles Tkacik, a freshman at Johnson & Wales University in North Miami, Fla., who is white, said in an email that while public demonstrations of racism were rare at his university, “there is a deep layer of contempt and hatred among a percentage of students toward other races.”

“Some students believe certain races to be ‘dirty, noisy and rude,’ ” Mr. Tkacik wrote.

Jordan Taylor, a black student at the State University of New York at New Paltz, shared a photo of a “colored only” sign that had been placed on a water fountain in his freshman year.

A black student at Princeton said a racial epithet was once scrawled on his dorm room door. A Korean-American student at the University of Minnesota described being asked by her classmates if she “did massage” or “wore a kimono at home.”

Race is very much an open issue at the University of Michigan. In 2006, Michigan residents voted in favor of Proposition 2, which prohibited affirmative action based on race or ethnicity in admissions and hiring at public institutions. The Supreme Court is expected to rule on the measure this year. These issues are playing out when the minority population is growing nationwide but shrinking on some college campuses.

“I think there is no question that Prop 2 has made it much more challenging for us,” Martha E. Pollack, the university provost and executive vice president for academic affairs, said of the affirmative action vote. “It was difficult to be the kind of community that we wanted to be even when we could use affirmative action.”

Alex Ngo, 21, who is majoring in communications, rejected the notion of colorblindness. “When I hear people say, ‘We’re all people, we’re all human, I don’t see color,’ to me that means, ‘I don’t see you, you don’t exist,’ ” he said. Mr. Ngo, who is Chinese and gay, said he had been subjected to racist and homophobic epithets.

Some students, like James Rice, 21, who is white, see being colorblind as a worthy goal in certain situations. If race is something “not taken into consideration in society in places like education and the workplace, I feel like it’s a really good goal,” Mr. Rice said.

But many others said that failing to account for the reality of race created an unrealistic view of the world.

Gurdit Suri, 19, a finance and international studies major who described himself as a “turban-wearing Sikh,” said he often felt judged by fellow students. “It doesn’t matter how many awards I can get, how many tests I can take, how many times I volunteer,” he said. “I am the other to a lot of people in this campus. People will make judgments about me, implicit or not.”

For many students, racial issues play out as they did for previous generations, as a constant attempt to bridge an often-subtle divide. Nikia Smith, a black freshman, said tensions could be woven into the fabric of daily life — for example, if a white student did not hold a door open for a black student who was about to walk through it. Maybe the student was just in a rush, Ms. Smith, 19, said. But “in my mind, I could be thinking, ‘Oh, it’s because I’m black.’ ”

David J. Leonard, a professor in the department of critical culture, gender and race studies at Washington State University, said young people often viewed racism as something associated with extremist groups like the Ku Klux Klan. “People who don’t see themselves like this think: ‘We can poke fun. We can engage in stereotypes,’ ” Dr. Leonard said. “Racism gets reduced to intent, as if intent is all that matters.”

While black undergraduate enrollment at the University of Michigan has ebbed and flowed over the years, peaking in the 1990s, James J. Duderstadt, a professor of science and engineering who was president of the university from 1988 to 1996, said it was difficult to determine whether racism on campus had, in fact, increased.

He said he believed that the recent spate of activism on diversity was being propelled by two issues: a lack of state funding for public institutions that has led colleges to admit more out-of-state students, who tend to be more affluent and less diverse, and challenges to affirmative action laws in states like Michigan and California.

Some experts say that, rather than being uniformly postracial, young people often see different worlds when they contemplate race — just as their parents did. Blanca E. Vega, a doctoral candidate at Teachers College at Columbia University, who is writing her dissertation on racial conflicts in higher education, said white people tended to see much more progress on race.

“There’s a mismatch in the perceptions of race and racism,” Ms. Vega said, “depending on who you speak with and depending on their racial background.”

Friday, February 28, 2014

Dr. Craig Steven Wilder's Groundbreaking New Book On The History Of The Institutional Role of American Universities & Colleges in Promoting,` Supporting and Perpetuating Slavery

Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities by Craig Steven Wilder  (Bloomsbury Press, 2013)

"Anyone who tries to prevent you from knowing, from learning anything, is an enemy, an enemy of freedom, of eqality, of democracy."
--C.L.R. James

Shackles and Ivy: The Secret History of How Slavery Helped Build America’s Elite Colleges
October 30, 2013


A new book 10 years in the making examines how many major U.S. universities — Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Brown, Dartmouth, Rutgers, Williams and the University of North Carolina, among others — are drenched in the sweat, and sometimes the blood, of Africans brought to the United States as slaves. In "Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities," Massachusetts Institute of Technology American history professor Craig Steven Wilder reveals how the slave economy and higher education grew up together. "When you think about the colonial world, until the American Revolution, there is only one college in the South, William & Mary ... The other eight colleges were all Northern schools, and they’re actually located in key sites, for the most part, of the merchant economy where the slave traders had come to power and rose as the financial and intellectual backers of new culture of the colonies," Wilder says.


AMY GOODMAN: We turn to a new book 10 years in the making that looks at how some of the country’s major universities—Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Brown, Rutgers, Williams, the University of North Carolina, to name just a few—are drenched in sweat, and sometimes the blood, of Africans brought here as slaves. The book is called Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities. In it, MIT history professor Craig Steven Wilder reveals how the slave economy and higher education grew up together. He writes, "the American campus stood as a silent monument to slavery." Well, this history is silent no more. Professor Craig Steven Wilder joins us here in New York.

Welcome to Democracy Now!

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Thank you very much.

AMY GOODMAN: So, talk about America’s most elite universities. What relation do they have to slavery?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: I think there are multiple relationships. The first and probably most poignant, most provocative, is the relationship to the slave trade itself. In the middle of the 18th century, from 1746 to 1769—fewer than 25 years, less than a quarter century—the number of colleges in the British colonies triples from three to nine. The original three were Harvard, Yale and William & Mary, and all of a sudden there were nine by 1769. And it triples in that 25-year period. That 25-year period actually coincides with the height of the slave trade. It’s precisely the rise and the elaboration of the Atlantic economy, based on the African slave trade, that allows for this sort of fantastic articulation of new growth of the institutional infrastructure of the colonies.

AMY GOODMAN: So, let’s talk specifically about particular universities.


AMY GOODMAN: I mean, you are—you do look at some universities in the South—


AMY GOODMAN: —but also in the Deep North.



CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: It’s a very Northern story, actually. You know, when you think about the colonial world, until the American Revolution, there’s actually only one college in the South: William & Mary. There are a couple of other attempts, but they fail. The other eight colleges are all Northern schools. And they’re actually located in key sites, for the most part, of the merchant economy and where the slave traders had sort of come to power and rose as the sort of financial and intellectual backers of the new culture of the colonies.

AMY GOODMAN: So talk about Harvard.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Sure. Harvard, actually, from its very beginnings in 1636, the college, by 1638, actually has an enslaved man living on campus, who’s referred to as "the Moor." And—


CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: The Moor. And that actually is directly related to two slave trades. I imagine it’s how he gets to Cambridge. One is right after the Pequot War, the war in which the Puritans defeat the Indians of southern Connecticut. There’s a Pequot slave trade into the West Indies. The captive Pequot are actually sold into the West Indies. That ship actually returns with enslaved Africans. And it’s right after that moment that the Moor appears on campus and becomes part of the sort of legend of early Harvard.

AMY GOODMAN: Toward the end of the book, you include a photograph that shows five men who served as president—


AMY GOODMAN: —of Harvard University from 1829 to 1862. Talk about their significance and relation to slavery.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: What I wanted to show in that final chapter, that final epilogue, was the ways in which slavery, even after the end of slavery in the Northeast, even after the Northern colonies and Northern states had actually moved toward emancipation and finished their emancipation processes, they continued to have economic ties to the South and the West Indies. And so, if you—one of the ways you can trace that is just by looking at who became the president of these universities, who the presidents were. And the presidents were virtually always the sons or the sons-in-law of merchant traders, people who were West India suppliers. And so, after the slave trade ends and after slavery ends in the Northern states, one of the businesses that continues is supplying the South and the West Indies with everything—all the provisions that they needed to run the plantations.

AMY GOODMAN: So, I want to look at this picture again.


AMY GOODMAN: You’ve got Quincy. You’ve got Everett. You’ve got—what is it? Sparks?




AMY GOODMAN: And Felton.


AMY GOODMAN: Explain. For example, Mather. In fact, at Harvard University, there is a house named after Mather.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, the Mathers actually go back a long way. And so, you know—and they actually are part of the colonial story of slavery, too. Increase Mather, of the second generation, is actually a president of Harvard, and he uses his slave, which was a person given to him by his parish—he uses his slave to actually run the business of the college in the colonial period. This slave runs errands between the various trustees. And he writes in his diary that he sent his Negro to do various bits of work for the college.

And if you think about, you know, Edward Everett, Jared Sparks, one of the ways that their influence—that they had managed to achieve the kind of influence that they did—Sparks, for instance, becomes rather famous, actually, for his writings about early American history. He becomes something of a really quite polished American historian, but that was actually a way of also creating ties with the South, intellectual relationships with the South. And so, his writings as a historian also allowed him to create intellectual connections to these very important regions, and regions that remained important in the financing of higher education long after slavery ends in the Northeast.

AMY GOODMAN: What about Yale University?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yale actually is a very similar story. Yeah, in 1701, when the original founders were actually meeting to establish what was then the Collegiate School, they—as one of their chroniclers puts it, they come from the various towns to meet up, and they’re followed by their menservants, or their slaves. The slave—the enslaved people are actually at the founding of the institution. And once it’s established, like most of the 18th century colleges—and especially by the 18th century as the slave trade peaks—the new business of higher education, the financial model for a successful college, requires in fact tapping into these new sources of wealth in the Americas. And that means the slave trade in the plantations of the South and the West Indies.

AMY GOODMAN: Did anyone at these universities—and I think you talk about at Yale—say no to slaves?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yes, yes. Yeah, there’s—at every moment that there’s a push toward slavery, there’s also anti-slavery. There’s an anti-slavery tradition actually emerging from the 17th century right through the 18th century. And much of it, because it’s an intellectual movement, because it’s a moral and religious movement, is actually housed on campus. And so you have this tension on campus. And I try and actually point that out at various times in the book.

One of the examples that I use, actually, relates to the image that you showed of the presidents, and particularly Quincy. Under Quincy’s administration, Charles Follen, the German historian—I’m sorry, the German professor at Harvard, who was a rebel of the—in Germany and who was chased out for his radicalism, comes to the United States, gets appointed professor of German at Harvard, and then is immediately attracted to the abolitionist movement. Follen is actually punished for that decision. He eventually loses his professorship. And when you trace the origins of the professorship, the funding had largely come from families with ties to the slave trade and slavery.

AMY GOODMAN: I mean, that’s very interesting. What you point out at places like Harvard is that a lot of the endowments for the professor chairs—


AMY GOODMAN: —come from the slave trade.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah. The first—actually, the very first endowed professorship at Yale, the Livingston professor of divinity, actually comes from the Livingston family of New York and New Jersey. And it’s the second generation, Philip Livingston, gives it in, basically, recognition of the fine education that his sons had received at Yale. And Livingston is one of the—the Livingstons are one of the larger slave-trading families out of New York City, the rivals for places like Newport, Rhode Island, and Providence, which dominates the North American trade. Certainly the Philadelphians and the New Yorkers were trying to catch up.

AMY GOODMAN: We’re going to talk about the DeWolf family, the largest slave-trading family, in a moment.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Sure, sure. Yeah, yeah.

AMY GOODMAN: We’re going to be joined by one of the DeWolfs, Katrina Browne, and how she traced the trade in her family. But I want to ask you about Princeton University.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Sure. Princeton is, to me, one of the more interesting of the schools. You know, they’re all distinct in some ways. But, you know, founded in 1746 and founded in a religiously radical tradition, evangelical tradition, Princeton finds itself struggling in its early years. In 1768, it had just had a sequence of short presidencies, two deaths—including two deaths of the presidents. And they recruit the Scottish minister John Witherspoon. One of the Princeton alumni—then the College of New Jersey—is actually studying medicine in Edinburgh, and he’s acting on behalf of his college to recruit John Witherspoon of Paisley to come to New Jersey. Witherspoon eventually makes the decision—he and his wife Elizabeth—to cross the Atlantic and go to New Jersey.

And one of the things I argue in the book is that: What would make this successful minister from Scotland attracted to a relatively unsuccessful college in a colony that’s actually not in fact a powerhouse in North America? And the answer is really the extraordinary network, Scottish network in the Americas, the ways in which the Witherspoon family, in particular, had reached out across the Americas and branched out across the Americas and provided Witherspoon a way of actually securing and stabilizing the College of New Jersey by exploiting these family and national connections, the Scottish diaspora, in the Americas. And it included, particularly, Scots who were moving into the Carolinas and Virginia, into the backcountry of Virginia and the Carolinas, and into the Caribbean.

AMY GOODMAN: And what did that have to do with slavery?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: That means that actually what he ends up doing is sort of pointing and looking south for new sources of students and money, as soon as he arrives. In fact, shortly after he arrives, he publishes a missive to the West Indies, in which he promises the planters of the British West Indies that their sons would be better off in Princeton, New Jersey, which is intimate and close enough where the faculty take very good care of the boys, rather than sending them to England, where young men from the West Indies are known to be wealthy and get preyed upon by people of loose morals and broad ambitions. So sending them to Princeton actually would be better for them, but it would also be better for Princeton. And he makes this—he’s not the only one to do this. I should point out that if you look at those colleges that are founded in the mid-18th century, they all send ambassadors to the West Indies in search of money and students.

AMY GOODMAN: Tell us about Betsey Stockton—


AMY GOODMAN: —who was enslaved by an early 19th century president of Princeton.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, yeah. Stockton is actually the—was given to the wife of that president as a gift when she was a younger woman, and then the—through marriage, actually comes into the household of Ashbel Green, the president of Princeton—who ends up president of Princeton. He eventually emancipates her. He also actually establishes—and this is that tension between slavery and antislavery—he establishes a ministry with many of the people in the black community surrounding Princeton. He emancipates her. She lives in the president’s house and continues to work there, and actually becomes quite famous as a biblical scholar. She becomes quite good at biblical geography, and noted—

AMY GOODMAN: Spending most of her time in his library.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, yeah—and noted for her geographic skills, her biblical geographic skills. She then eventually becomes a schoolteacher in New York and heads off to a mission to the Sandwich Islands, to Hawaii, where her skill with language and religion become actually critical to the success of the mission. And so, you have this person who is born enslaved and lives as an enslaved person on a college campus, and then who leads this extraordinary life afterwards.

AMY GOODMAN: You also talk about race science.


AMY GOODMAN: You talk about the search for cadavers for scientific research at these universities.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, right, yeah. And one of the things I wanted to do with the book was to try and explain both how slavery and the slave trade provided the foundations for the rise of the—of higher education in North America, but I also wanted to explain the role that colleges played in perpetuating slavery and the slave trade. And that’s where you get to race science. That’s where race science becomes critical, because it’s precisely on campus that the ideas that come to defend slavery in the 19th century get refined. They get their intellectual legitimacy on campus. They get their scientific sort of veneer on campus. And they get their moral credentialing on campus.

And so, I wanted to trace that process. And one of the ugliest aspects of that is the use of marginalized people in the Americas, in the United States—its enslaved black people, often Native Americans, and sometimes the Irish—for experimentation, the bodies that were accessible as science rose. And science is rising in the 18th century in part by turning dissection and anatomy into the new medical arts. But that requires bodies. It requires people. In the British islands, that means you’re often exploiting Ireland. In North America, it means you’re often taking advantage of people who have no legal and moral protection upon their bodies: the enslaved.

AMY GOODMAN: Can you give an example?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Sure. Actually, at Dartmouth, the medical college—it would be unfair to say that the medical college begins with this moment, but the teaching of science in Hanover begins when the physician to the president, the founder of Dartmouth, Eleazar Wheelock, drags the body of an enslaved black man, who is deceased, named Cato, to the back of his house and boils that body in an enormous pot to free up the skeleton, to wire it up for instruction. That act is not unusual. In fact, when the first medical colleges are established in North America in the 1760s—the first is at the College of Philadelphia, which is now the University of Pennylvania, and the second is at King’s College, which is now Columbia—when those institutions are founded, actually, they’re founded in part—part of what allows them to be established is access to corpses, access to people to experiment upon. And, in fact, it’s precisely the enslaved, the unfree and the marginalized who get forcibly volunteered for that role.

AMY GOODMAN: Craig Steven Wilder, I want to ask you to stay with us. We’re going to trace one family’s roots—


AMY GOODMAN: —to the largest slave-holding family in America, and I’d like you to comment on it and how it links to the universities of this country.


AMY GOODMAN: Craig Steven Wilder is the author of Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities . Oh, you can go to our website to read the book’s prologue at Professor Wilder teaches American history at MIT. He also taught at Williams College, as well as Dartmouth. Stay with us.

Craig Steven Wilder is Professor of American History at MIT and the author of the groundbreaking book "Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America's Universities" (Bloomsbury, 2013). Dr. Wilder has also taught at Williams College and Dartmouth. His previous books include A covenant With Color and In the Company of Black Men.

PART 2: Craig Steven Wilder on "Ebony & Ivy," Race, Slavery and U.S. Universities:

Part two of our extended interview with MIT American history professor Craig Steven Wilder examining how many of the nation’s elite schools — including Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Brown, Dartmouth — are drenched in the sweat, and sometimes the blood, of Africans brought to the United States as slaves. Wilder has spent the last 10 years researching his book, Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities.

AMY GOODMAN: This is Democracy Now!, The War and Peace Report. I’m Amy Goodman, as we turn to part two of our discussion with Craig Steven Wilder, author of a new book. It’s called Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities. It’s an astounding book.


AMY GOODMAN: Talk about where you began it. I mean, you’re a professor of American history, Professor Wilder, at MIT right now.


AMY GOODMAN: But you taught at Williams, you taught at Dartmouth.


AMY GOODMAN: Talk about Dartmouth.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Dartmouth, actually, it was one of the more interesting cases. I started the book when I got to Dartmouth in 2002. And as I said, you know, it was supposed to be a tiny little article on how black abolitionists became professionals. How do you become a minister, a doctor, a teacher, in a nation where you can’t go to college? And so, the African Americans who oppose slavery actually have this big push into the professions, but they actually are excluded from colleges and universities. And so, one of the things that intrigued me, and particularly because I was at Dartmouth at the time, was the fact that Native Americans had been on campus, for 200 years by then. Native American students had been on campus for 200 years. And that suggests, in fact, when you say it that way, that Native Americans were somehow privileged, which we know is wrong. And so it really requires a rethinking of the college itself, the role of the college in the colonial world.

And in many ways, I think Dartmouth was a perfect example of what I ended up arguing in the book, that we have to think of colleges as animate, as actors in the colonial world and in the creation of the nation that we know. Eleazar Wheelock, the Reverend Eleazar Wheelock, who arrives in Hanover—after he gets his charter in 1769, he arrives several months later with eight enslaved black people, including a baby. He has more slaves than he has faculty. He has more slaves than active trustees. He has more slaves—if you do an honest accounting, he probably has more slaves than he has students. And by that time, although he spent most of his life as a missionary to Native Americans—and the college is founded, and certainly its supporters believe that he’s continuing the Native American ministry—in fact, Native American students had been relegated to what was basically a grammar school. And Wheelock was in the process of building a college for white students. And like a lot of colleges that took money for Native American evangelization, a lot of that money actually ends up going to support white students and transform them into missionaries and ministers.

AMY GOODMAN: Now, explain that. I don’t think people quite understand that these universities would go out to raise money.


AMY GOODMAN: And they would raise it by saying, "We’re educating Native Americans."


AMY GOODMAN: And it wasn’t only Dartmouth.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Particularly in the 18th century, in the decades before the American Revolution, in the 20 years before the American Revolution, the colleges launched endless appeals and campaigns to Europe, but particularly to Britain, in search of dollars. At one point in the book, I point out that they’re literally bumping into each other in London soliciting wealthy donors, and ofter under the claim that they were educating Native Americans. Samuel Johnson, the founding president of King’s College, which is now Columbia, has a great exchange which highlights this, in which he proposes educating some Indian children from the Six Nations, the Iroquois Confederacy, and sends out a loose letter about this, and then quickly withdraws the idea because it’s just too hard to do. He’s not really interested in educating Indian children, but he is interested in making that appeal. And very often the colleges are sending ambassadors to Europe, in particular, under the claim that they’ll be evangelizing Indians. That begins really in the early 17th century with the very first of the British colleges, Harvard.

AMY GOODMAN: What happened at Harvard?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Well, the sending off appeals to England claiming to and championing the evangelization of Native Americans. In 1649, the New England Company is established, and it’s a missionary corporation, which actually becomes a model for later missionary corporations like the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts. But throughout the 17th century, one of the continuing themes of Harvard—the charter has changed to include Native American education as part of the mission. The first brick building on Harvard Yard is the Indian College. And I—

AMY GOODMAN: The first building in Harvard Yard—

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: The first brick building—the first brick building is actually the Indian College. And I point out in the book that, you know, you can raise money hand over fist in Europe for Indian evangelization. And these stories of radical Christians transforming native people into religious perfectionists, into models of Christian virtue, are actually, you know, just being eaten up in Europe.

AMY GOODMAN: Why in Europe?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Well, I think in part because there’s a real use of Native Americans in—there’s a way in which Native Americans have now captured the European mind: exotic people of a different color and kind who both perplex and intrigue Europeans. And so you get a lot of conversation about the origins of native people, where they come from, how you explain them. You know, there’s a tremendous attempt to reconcile their existence in the Americas with biblical narrative, and then to missionize them.

AMY GOODMAN: And these people, who are presidents of these universities, from Dartmouth to Harvard, are ministers.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, they’re ministers, and they’re often missionaries.

AMY GOODMAN: And they have slaves.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: And they often have slaves, and they’re—they’ve often been Indian missionaries. So Wheelock has spent much of his—

AMY GOODMAN: The first president of Dartmouth.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: The first president of Dartmouth has spent much of his life as an Indian missionary. But he’s also run a side business buying and selling people for labor, so that enslaved black people have been part of his life’s work from his earliest years.

AMY GOODMAN: How did you feel about this, Craig Steven Wilder, at Dartmouth yourself teaching, doing this research?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: It’s an—it’s awkward. You know, I think—you know, when you think about the way that Ms. Browne was talking about Traces of the Trade, this slow, uncomfortable realization that you’re part of this world with this very broad, deep, painful history is, to say the very least, awkward. It was—it also became an intellectual challenge for me: How do I tell that story? And how do I get that story to an audience and get them to understand its meaning, what it means for us today and what it meant for us then? And so, I think, in some ways, as a historian it’s probably easier to deal with that realization, because we have the tools for then wrestling with it.

AMY GOODMAN: Did they ever try to get you to stop telling this story?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: No, no. Actually they didn’t. And I have to give everyone a lot of credit. You know, one of the great things that happened is, you know, early in my career at Dartmouth I gave a talk on a part of the book that—what’s now a small part of the book, you know, and the president of Dartmouth at the time, Jim Wright, was sitting in the front row of that talk and gave me a great handshake and a hug afterwards.

And, you know, I often tell the story of going into archives to do the research for this book, from the Carolinas and Virginia to eastern Canada and Scotland. And when I first started, I was somewhat cautious about what I would say, you know, when they ask you on those forms, "What are you studying?" And so, I would say vague things like 18th century education or colonial schools. And as the archivists and librarians sort of—as I got to know them and they found out more about what I was doing, one of the really wonderful things that happened is not only were they quite supportive of the project, but they often in fact introduced me to and brought me material that I would never have known was in the archives. Sometimes they sort of slipped it to me across the table as if they were doing something wrong, but they—

AMY GOODMAN: What were—

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: —were always supportive. They were always warm.

AMY GOODMAN: What were some of your great discoveries there?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: I think, you know, the presidents who owned slaves, what happened to those enslaved people during their lives. You know, at William & Mary, one of the early founders actually ends up killing a child.

AMY GOODMAN: Explain that story.


AMY GOODMAN: Who was it?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: It’s Reverend Grey, and he orders a child to be beaten. And the child is beaten so severely that he later dies. The—his parish actually basically pays him in tobacco to leave. And that was one of the sort of really quite difficult moments in writing the book, because there’s a way to tell that story, but it’s a difficult story to tell. And there’s something to be known about the nature of colleges in there, the nature of the colonial world in there.

AMY GOODMAN: What do you mean there’s a way to tell that story?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Well, I think there’s a way to tell that, meaning that, you know, the—part of my job as a historian is to make that story available to people, to explain it, and to let them understand how that moment comes into being. And it’s one of many in which children actually play a role in the book, because one of the patterns that I had noticed as I was doing this research over years was just the number of children who were owned by college presidents required some kind of explanation, when you really think about how many of them had made specific requests for children.

AMY GOODMAN: Go through them.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: And so I end up—well, let—you know, let’s think of some. Ezra Stiles, who’s the president of Yale during the American Revolution, earlier, as a Newport minister, purchases a child, a boy, named Newport, in Newport, Rhode Island. He’s a Rhode Island minister before he becomes president of Yale. And then he emancipates Newport on the day before he becomes president of Yale, before he enters the president’s house. Jonathan Edwards purchases a girl—I believe he names her Venus—in Rhode Island.

AMY GOODMAN: And Jonathan Edwards is?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Is—becomes the president of Princeton. He is earlier an Indian missionary in Connecticut, a rather fantastic career as an evangelical minister and one of the leading evangelicals of the 18th century, probably most famous for the founding evangelical sermon, as it’s often called, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." Edwards purchases a girl. The—at Dartmouth, Wheelock owns children. The trustees at Harvard are actually demanding children. Increase Mather gets a boy when he’s president of Harvard.

And I needed to explain this phenomenon, and so one of the things I looked at was I really tried to examine the history around that decision-making process. And in the book, I point out that it has a lot to do with the rising fear of slave revolts in the 18th century colonies and the belief that children would be more easily socialized into slavery and less likely to revolt. And so you end up with these extraordinarily descriptive requests for slaves, the absentee planters of the West Indies who are living up in Massachusetts writing back to their overseers with very exact descriptions of the age, gender and type of personality that they want in a slave. You know, one writes that "I lost my boy," meaning he died, "and I want to replace him with another." And therefore you also end up with a slave trade, an Atlantic slave trade, which deals in human beings, but about 20 percent of whom are children.

And I explore one of those voyages in the book, in which dozens of children, some as young as two and three years old, are being held captive on board and die during the journey. And that’s a Livingston investment, the Livingstons who go on to become the funders of the first professorship, endowed professorship, at Yale, founders of Columbia and trustees at Princeton and at Rutgers.

AMY GOODMAN: Rutgers, you haven’t talked much about.


AMY GOODMAN: Tell us a little about Rutgers.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: You know, the—it’s a fascinating institution for a lot of reasons. And the original Queen’s College, which is a Dutch Reformed college, the Dutch colonists are establishing their own institution, and it’s, as we all know, really quite close to the College of New Jersey, Princeton, and Princeton is originally founded in the eastern part of the state over by Newark and then drifts over, and the governor, Governor Belcher, actually helps it eventually settle in Princeton, New Jersey. And—but, in fact, actually, one of the things that happened is there’s a lot of pressure from the College of New Jersey, from Princeton, for the Queen’s College, Rutgers, to actually fold in. But, in fact, the denominational allegiances are too strong for that, so the Presbyterians remain at New Jersey, Princeton, and the Dutch Reformed at Rutgers.

One of their earliest presidents, [Jacob] Hardenbergh, the Reverend Hardenbergh at Queen’s College, manages to purchase slaves despite the fact that the college is doing quite poorly. You know, Queen’s is so financially strapped that it closes multiple times in its early history, and for long periods. But on the eve of one of its first closures, when it just has to shut down and stop operations, Reverend Hardenbergh manages to buy a second slave for his household. And what does that tell us about colleges in the 18th century? One of the things that it should remind us is that colleges survived on the margins in the 18th century. You know, they were constantly seeking sources of funding. And the most obvious and immediate sources of funding were the rising wealthy traders of the big port cities, dominated by the slave traders, and then the planters of the South and the West Indies who had both cash and children but very few schools. As one historian of the British West Indies puts it very nicely, the British West Indies actually didn’t need colleges because of mainland North America. And there are very few institutions of higher education, or even secondary education, established in the West Indies during the colonial period, because those planters could sent their sons to Europe or to North America, the mainland.

AMY GOODMAN: And how does the Civil War play into this? Because you have all these Northerners who owned slaves, but they not only owned slaves, they run institutions that justify slavery.


AMY GOODMAN: It really challenges the whole notion of the Civil War—the North against, the South for, and so you fight over the evil of slavery.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: And I argue in the book that one of the things that Northerners contribute to the—Northern intellectuals contribute in the decades before the war is the attempt to establish a common ground between the North and South, an intellectual solution to the crisis over slavery as that crisis boils up. And they actually manage to claim a new public position in this role. I argue in the book that actually what allows the college to become—the university to become what we know today, an independent, influential actor in public affairs, rather than an offshoot of churches, which is what they are in the colonial period, right—what allows them to break free of the church and establish themselves and their own prestige in the public arena is the ability to articulate a new vision of the United States, a new future for the United States. But it’s premised on racial science. It’s premised upon a claim that academics, intellectuals, can make a better, more informed, truer argument about the future of the nation and the question of slavery. And they use race science to make that claim. And so, in the final chapter of the book, I look at the overrepresentation of academics, of college professors and college presidents, in racial cleansing movements.


CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Like the American Colonization Society, which is established in 1817, originally with the aim of removing free black people from the United States to some place outside of North America. In 1822, the Liberia colony is established and named.

AMY GOODMAN: You mean the country in Africa, Liberia—


AMY GOODMAN: —where—

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Where free black people are to be transported to. And they’re also overrepresented in the debates about Indian removal in the South. And they’re overrepresented, I point out in the book, in debates about and the process of establishing missions to convert Jews living in the United States or fund their removal from the United States. And when you put it all together, what you end up with is this extraordinary vision of the United States as a white Christian society, racially cleansed and racially purified. But what that actually means is race becomes the common ground between North and South. Academics, and Northern academics in particular, begin to articulate a vision for the future of the United States as a racially purified society, where slavery could continue to exist as long as it was contained and as long as it served the interest of the white South. But the goal of the nation, the future of the nation, the vision of the nation, would be a white Christian society.

AMY GOODMAN: Professor Wilder, you mention taking free black people and moving them elsewhere, either to Africa or here in this country. There is a film that has just opened called 12 Years a Slave about a free black man in—in New York who is kidnapped and sent south, where he remains a slave for 12 years. I just wanted to play a trailer of that film.

SOLOMON NORTHUP: [played by Chiwetel Ejiofor] I was born a free man, lived with my family in New York—
Be good for your mother.
—until the day I was deceived—
SOLOMON NORTHUP: —kidnapped, sold into slavery.
*Well, boy, how you feel now?
SOLOMON NORTHUP: My name is Solomon Northup. I’m a free man. And you have no right whatsoever to detain me.
FREEMAN: [played by Paul Giamatti] You’re no free man. You’re nothing but a Georgia runaway.
EDWIN EPPS: [played by Michael Fassbender] And that servant that don’t obey his lord shall be beaten with many strikes. That’s scripture.
BASS: [played by Brad Pitt] The condition of your laborers, it’s all wrong.
EDWIN EPPS: They’re my property.
BASS: You say that with pride.
EDWIN EPPS: I say it as fact.
Speak! Man does how he pleases with his property.
You come here.
EDWIN EPPS: I said come here!
SOLOMON NORTHUP: Days ago, I was with my family, in my home. Now you tell me all is lost.
CLEMENS: [played by Chris Chalk] If you want to survive, do and say as little as possible.
SOLOMON NORTHUP: Well, I don’t want to survive. I want to live.
AMY GOODMAN: A part of the trailer of 12 Years a Slave, directed by Steve McQueen, another Steve McQueen, black British director, a remarkable film. Professor Craig Steven Wilder, this was a black man, free in New York, who was brought down to the South, kidnapped.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: And you have, yeah, this—in this period, an extraordinary, as many scholars have written about, cooperation between the institutional and political infrastructure of New York and the Northern states and the slave economies and slave societies of the South—you know, extraordinarily sympathetic courts, local policing agencies that are aggressively anti-black and pro-slavery in their mindset and outlook—and then what I would describe as a moral and intellectual culture that is searching for defenses of slavery and intellectual and moral compromise between the interests of the North and the interests of the South, which often means, in fact, exposing black people.

AMY GOODMAN: One image you have in the book is from 1826. It’s a flier, and it’s Washington College, now Washington and Lee, advertising, quote, "Negroes For Hire." It says, "Twenty Likely Negroes belonging to WASHINGTON COLLEGE, consisting of Men, Women, Boys and Girls, many of them very valuable," will be hired out for the year.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: This is one of the institutions—and there are many of them—that owned slaves, owned slaves and used their labor to run the campus, to take care of the faculty and the students, and then in—as the seasonal demand for enslaved people changed, further profited off of them by leasing them out and leasing out extra laborers. We can think about this in a number of ways. Washington and Lee, William & Mary in Virginia, in a single year at one point in its early history, purchased 17 people for the campus. The University of North Carolina—and then in the North, you have something similar. Eleazar Wheelock, the founder of Dartmouth, as I said, you know, shows up with eight enslaved people, and so that enslaved people are the—in some ways, the majority population on the rough early campus of Dartmouth College.

And for a lot of people doing this kind of work, studying the relationship between colleges and universities, I think there’s been this look for the sort of smoking gun. And the smoking gun is always—it seems to me to be, what they’re looking for is whether or not the institution owned slaves. Well, lots of them do. But when their presidents do, they effectively do. And when the—when the professors own slaves, the institution effectively owns slaves.

AMY GOODMAN: And the students?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: And the students bring slaves to campus. You know, George Washington’s son, Jacky Custis, his stepson, Washington nixes the idea of sending him to William & Mary because—

AMY GOODMAN: Washington himself didn’t go to college.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, right, he didn’t go to college. And General Washington doesn’t want to send Jacky to William & Mary because Jacky already has bad habits, and he thinks his habits will get worse among the sons of the elite planters in Virginia. And so, he brings him up to New York and enrolls him at King’s College, what’s now Columbia. And Columbia is glad to have him, in part because this creates another entrance to the wealthy planters of the South and a new way of making new ties with a new group of students and potential donors and enrollments. But what’s fascinating is that, you know, Washington shows up in New York with his stepson and his stepson’s slave Joe. Joe actually also comes to campus. And the president of Columbia at the time, Myles Cooper, outfits Jacky with a suite of rooms that then he has—that Jacky has painted and readied for himself, and Joe is basically occupying what’s basically a large closet in one of the rooms.

That’s not unusual. You know, at William & Mary, probably about 10 percent of the students in the 1760s brought slaves with them to campus. And there are examples—you know, there are other examples people are actually looking at right now, other scholars, of these same phenomena, North and South.

AMY GOODMAN: You are a professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Massachusetts, in Cambridge. What’s MIT’s history?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: MIT is actually—you know, for me, there’s a fascinating group of schools that are founded in the 19th century, the technical and engineering colleges. And we really begin founding them probably in the 1820s, and there’s a—the number increases by the 1840s and 1850s.

But one of the interesting things that happens at MIT is the founder, William Barton Rogers, gets his education in Virginia. His father is actually a professor of chemistry at William & Mary. And they move into Brafferton Hall. And why that’s important is that Brafferton Hall, if you’ve ever been to William & Mary, the famous building is the Wren Building right at the sort of center of the campus. On one side of it is the president’s house, and there’s a building that mirrors it on the other side, Brafferton Hall, which is the original Indian College. That was where the Native Americans were educated in the late part of the 17th century and much of the 18th century. By the time William Barton Rogers gets there, the Native Americans are gone, and Brafferton is being used to house his family, and particularly his father. Brafferton has its own assignment of slaves. There are rules set out for the slaves of Brafferton Hall.

And so, William Barton Rogers gets his education at William & Mary, comes of age at William & Mary, and then replaces his father on the faculty at William & Mary, has a long career at the University of Virginia, where he’s dean of the faculty, and eventually leaves in the 1850s for Massachusetts, where he has an idea of establishing a technical school, an engineering school. And part of the reason why these schools are being established in this period is the great cotton manufacturers. You know, the slave-grown cotton of the South is transported to the North, and the cotton textile manufacturers need skilled engineers to help build these manufacturing towns. And it’s the dearth of skilled engineers that leads them to begin throwing money at places like the Lawrence School of Engineering at Harvard and MIT, where, you know, one of the members of one of the great cotton-manufacturing families is actually William Barton Rogers’—basically his vice president at the founding of the institution.

AMY GOODMAN: Two days after the issuance of the school’s charter at MIT, the Civil War breaks out?


AMY GOODMAN: How does that fit in?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Well, I think it fits in a lot of ways, actually. You know, the—in many ways, I—at the end of the book, what I’m looking at is sort of the continued relationship between Northern colleges and universities—largely Northern colleges and universities—and slavery, the economies of slavery. And the war is both a crisis for the nation, but it’s also a crisis on campus, long before it breaks out. There is a—there are deep divisions in the North about the relationship between the future of the Northern states and in relation to slavery. Those are divisions that actually lead to an extraordinary transformation in the United States. In the South at the University of North Carolina and at many Southern schools in the early part of the 19th century, slavery was openly debated, in the fraternity houses and—you know, at North Carolina, an anti-slavery speaker is invited to give the graduation speech, and the trustees then publish it and keep it in circulation for years. What happens after the—

AMY GOODMAN: And yet, the University of North Carolina—talk about its history.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Right. And, you know, it’s founded by slave owners and planters. Its largest land donations are actually coming from planters. The, you know—


CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: —enslaved people are actually being used to build the college. There’s a sort of fantastic Masonic ceremony at the—at their stone laying, the first stone laying at the school.

AMY GOODMAN: And when you say "planters," you mean plantation owners, slave owners.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, plantation owners and slave owners, right. And they—you know, and once the fantastic Masonic ceremony is over, all the regalia and paraphernalia is gone, and the slaves are brought in to built the school—to build the school, much like at the University of Virginia, where enslaved people were raising the buildings of Thomas Jefferson’s great intellectual monument.

And so, part of what I wanted to look at was that transformation, what happened in these schools to make slavery a question that couldn’t be debated on Southern campuses, and to make it increasingly difficult to debate on Northern campuses. You know, I point out in the book that in 1835 at Amherst in Massachusetts, you know, at the commencement ceremonies, a student from Tennessee takes a club and begins bludgeoning a student from New Hampshire over the question of slavery. You know, this is not a division that’s purely North-South. Southerners were a major presence on Northern campuses, and they had been for, you know, two centuries by that time.

AMY GOODMAN: What about a school like Oberlin, which is known as one of the stops on the Underground Railroad?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Right, right. There’s—you know, one of the things that’s happening is there’s an attempt to institutionalize anti-slavery from the 1830s on. And you can see this in a number of places. The institutionalization of anti-slavery comes in things like The Liberator, Garrison’s Liberator, black newspapers like Freedom’s Journal in 1827. But it’s also in the attempt to build schools. Abolitionists, black and white, had actually worked together from as early as 1831 to try and build an anti-slavery college. The original idea was actually to build a college for black Americans, since they were excluded from all these other schools. And Arthur Tappan, the wealthy New York merchant and Connecticut resident, actually helps Garrison and a group of black abolitionists from New York City begin to implement a plan to build the first black college in 1831 in New Haven, Connecticut. It was supposed to be right near Yale. Tappan went as far as to purchase the land for the school. The white abolitionists had promised $10,000, and the black abolitionists were going to match the $10,000. They set up a regulatory body for the school, in which the black abolitionists would be the majority of the trustees, but there would be full participation from everyone.

And what happens is there’s a conspiracy against the school. And I argue in a different piece that the conspiracy is actually led by the president of Yale, Yale’s alumni and trustees, because they fear competing with this new abolitionist school for funds from the extraordinarily generous evangelical donors, who are the major supporters of Yale and, in fact, fully invested in this new black institution. And Tappan is the perfect example. At the time that this is happening, Tappan is Yale’s largest and most generous living donor. But his attention has now shifted to this new black institution. And so, the first black college is delayed by a good quarter of a century because of that event.

AMY GOODMAN: And it never gets established.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: It never gets built. It never gets built, right.

AMY GOODMAN: And instead, what happened?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Instead, the money that was being raised is—it continues to get raised. And the white and black abolitionists return to the National Negro Conventions, these conventions that begin—black abolitionist conventions that begin getting held in the early 1830s. They return and ask for permission to look for a new site for a school.

They then actually fall upon, in part because it’s happened in Garrison, Prudence Crandall’s school in Canterbury, Connecticut, a young white woman who had turned toward abolitionism by reading Garrison’s Liberator and who had admitted a black girl to her school and then got threatened by the townspeople that if she didn’t remove her, they would ruin her school and then ruin her family’s business. The abolitionists begin to throw their support behind Crandall. And as the—if you remember the story, what happens to Crandall is she’s actually put on trial. Connecticut passes a legislative act to make it illegal to educate black people from outside the state. She’s tried three times. She’s convicted once. That conviction is then overturned. But during that process, while that’s happening, the townspeople then break—a mob breaks into her house, destroys the house and the school.

After that, the abolitionists shift their attention to Noyes Academy, a new school up in New Hampshire, in Canaan, New Hampshire, which is right next to Hanover, where Dartmouth is. And in 1834, the end of 1834, that school opens, and it’s open to students of all races and both genders. About eight months later, a mob of 300 people bringing dozens and dozens of ox and horses, chains and rope, dress the building in chains and rope, and drag it off of its foundations, drag it a half mile through town and destroy the building, and then fire guns and cannon at the houses where white abolitionists had actually been boarding black students. In the cover of night, the black students are taken out by friendly townspeople and the abolitionists. And the experiment at establishing, institutionalizing abolitionism by establishing an institution for the higher education of black people comes to basically a violent end at that moment. After that, the only place you really see the conversation being taken seriously is in the continued meetings of the National Negro Conventions.

AMY GOODMAN: Where do the historically black colleges fit into this?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: They begin to appear in the 1850s. And the—like many colleges in the, you know, colonial, early national, pre-Civil War America, the distinction between a high school and a college is often hard to find in this period. And so, the—and so, therefore, one of the things that abolitionists, black and white, had played with was a kind of advanced high school that could mature into a college. And that was in fact the path that a lot of colleges took. Even ones that we know today as elite institutions actually began much more like high schools than like colleges.

And so, within the National Negro Conventions, you have this sort of continued push for that kind of higher education. But the violence of the early 1830s largely destroys the campaign. By the 1850s, African-American churches and white missionary societies begin to re-establish institutions for higher education, and those mature into the first black colleges that we know today.

AMY GOODMAN: And Oberlin College?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Oberlin actually is part of this radical thrust. And, you know, it’s the radical Connecticut residents, the Connecticut—the old Connecticut residents who—

AMY GOODMAN: Like Tappan?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah—who move west. Tappan becomes, in fact, a major donor and sponsor of the new institution. They establish in fact a—what’s basically a secondary school that has a number of black students in it, in the decades before the war. And, you know, Beriah Green’s academy in—Oneida Academy in New York, similarly a radical institution that actually has black students in it. Gerrit Smith, the abolitionist, runs a advanced high school, very small, on his property in—I think that’s Whitesboro or Peterboro, New York, upstate New York.

And so, there are these attempts, but what you basically have—and most of these attempts are actually pretty short-lived, and they tend to be either out west—Ohio at that time—or in fairly rural parts of New York in the sort of original Bible Belt, you know, the burned-over district that religious historians talk about where evangelicalism has swept through across generations. And part of the reason for that is actually the early 1830s violence makes it very clear that an institution for the advancement of colored people, of the education of colored people, in big cities like New York likely won’t survive, but it also won’t survive in small towns like Canaan, New Hampshire. And it was precisely the ability of the anti-abolitionists to reach Canaan and destroy the school that imposes a new fear upon the abolitionist campaign and forces it to look for new directions.

AMY GOODMAN: Where does Frederick Douglass fit into this story? Does he at all?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, actually, he does. In the—by the 1840s and 1850s, in particular, the campaign for African-American higher education is largely relegated to the National Negro Conventions. And it’s actually men and women like Douglass who keep that conversation going. And, you know, there are differences of opinion about what black abolitionists should be striving for, but one of the things that they all understand is that the struggle against slavery can’t succeed unless black—free black people can establish a well-educated professional class who are capable of fighting for the rights of the broader group and defending their liberties.

AMY GOODMAN: In 1895, W.E.B. Du Bois receives a doctorate from Harvard, the first African American to do so. That’s 1895.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, yeah. And, right, it’s an extraordinary moment. But think about how late that is in Harvard’s history. Yeah, when I—in the introduction to the book, the acknowledgments, one of the things I point out is this—how incredible some of these distinctions are. And that’s where the book began. It began with me just being really intrigued by these distinctions. And I’ll just give a couple of examples. The first Native American student to graduate from a college graduates probably 170 years before the first black student, 160, 170 years. The first attempt—the first actually Native American to be ordained in the Protestant ministry is probably a good 150 years, 140 years, before the first black person to be ordained. The first attempt to build a college for Native Americans is 210 years before the first attempt to build a black college, the one we were just talking about in New Haven.

And when you say it that way, as I said before, it sounds like Native Americans are privileged. In fact, actually, what it really speaks to is the extraordinarily aggressive role that the college plays in the conquest of the Americas. We have to think of colleges as imperial instruments in the colonial world. That’s the role that they had played in Britain, where the crown begins to endow and fund universities in Scotland and Ireland, precisely to extend its influence and its control over those regions, where education was always seen as a wonderful piece of cultural weaponry that could be deployed. And colleges get deployed in the Americas, too. And so, what explains the difference between the relationship—the difference in the relationship between African Americans and Native Americans and colleges is precisely the role of the college.

AMY GOODMAN: Professor Wilder, you dedicate the book to Gloria Wilder.


AMY GOODMAN: Is that your mother?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: That’s my sister.

AMY GOODMAN: That’s your sister.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah. The first book I wrote, my mother got. The second book, my oldest sister Terrie got. And this is my second-oldest sister, Gloria, so she gets this one. And now I’m done.

AMY GOODMAN: Can you talk about—

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: I have no more siblings, and so I’m—

AMY GOODMAN: Can you talk about your own family?


AMY GOODMAN: You were the first in your family to go to college?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, my sister and I were the first in our family to go to college. We’re the first generation to go to college. And this is why I think when I talk about the book and the motivations behind the book, the idea that I’m—you know, I want to make it clear to people, I’m not attacking colleges. But I think we have an obligation, as academics and as institutions of higher education, to be as honest about our own history as we are about the history of the nation, the history of churches, the history of people, immigration and processes. We have as much obligation to be honest and revealing about ourselves. Many of the institutions in the book I either went to as a student or I worked at. I love those institutions. You know, Columbia here in New York gave me a chance to go from being a—you know, the son, one of three children of a single mother raising us by herself, moving herself from food stamps and public assistance to a unionized city job by studying at night, who then worked two jobs for 20 years to give us a chance to go to college and a chance to change our lives.

AMY GOODMAN: You grew up in Bed-Stuy?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: I grew up in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. And, you know, Columbia actually helped me realize that vision, her vision, her goal for us, and what eventually became my goal for myself. And so I have nothing but the greatest affection for that institution. You know, Williams gave me my first teaching job, and it was an extraordinary opportunity.

AMY GOODMAN: And yet, the story of Williams?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: And the story of Williams is in the book. You know, Ephraim Williams, the founder of Williams, a colonel, a military colonel, before the Battle of Lake George, you know, writes out his will, and he leaves his slaves and—to his siblings, and some money and land for the establishment of a college in western Massachusetts. And eventually the town of—the town, Williamstown, renames itself Williamstown and makes a claim upon that endowment to establish the new school. He’s killed in the battle, so he never sees the new school established. But, you know, and here you have, in fact, multiple histories crossing, because you have the history of Williams, the college, you have African-American history, the history of Colonel Williams’ slaves, his family, but you also have Native American history—the push of white people westward into Massachusetts and the ways in which Native American communities were living in increasingly constricted spaces and being moved off land by both legal and extralegal mechanisms, which Colonel Williams was heavily involved in. You know, there’s wild speculation in that part of the state. And all sorts of institutions get used to help make these land claims.

AMY GOODMAN: In all of your research, what were you most shocked by?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: I think, honestly, the thing that most shocked me, there are these moments where you—you wrestle with difficult questions. You know, certainly when you’re seeing—when I was doing the work on the slave ship, The Wolf, which the Livingstons send out to the African coast and which takes, you know—

AMY GOODMAN: And Livingston is tied to Yale.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, Livingston is tied to Yale, to Columbia, to Princeton and to Rutgers.

AMY GOODMAN: And the ship is called?


AMY GOODMAN: And it is sent to?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: It’s sent to the African coast on a slaving mission that takes basically a year and a half, an extraordinarily long time. The ship has—the captain has a hard time actually purchasing enough captives to get a full complement, as his surgeon will say, and so he’s holding people below deck for months as he hops between these various ports on the African coast attempting to purchase more people. A lot of the people on board, a lot of the captives on board, are actually small children. And so, you know, this is a voyage in which the surgeon actually goes through—the ship’s surgeon goes through a series of emotional crises himself, which he records in his diary. Babies are dying, two and three years old. He’s doing autopsies on them to try and figure out why they’re dying. He’s finding, you know, that they’re dying of the flux. They’re dying—they have worms, some 12 inches long. It’s a horrific tale. The—

AMY GOODMAN: Didn’t people rise up on the ship?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, there’s actually an attempted slave revolt on board before the ship departs. More people actually die on the return journey across the Atlantic. And when they arrive back in New York and the Livingstons put them up for sale, they’ve probably ended up killing as many people as they’ve sold.

AMY GOODMAN: So it was about 200 people, or a little less, on board to begin with.


AMY GOODMAN: There’s like 88 or something left.

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Yeah, and the population drops significantly. But the number of people who are killed just along the African coast is just astounding and disturbing. And I want to remember, as I sort of, you know, retell that story in the book, that for me that’s probably the hardest and most shocking thing, but it’s shocking for all of us. You know, it’s—I’m not making a sort of proprietary claim upon, you know, emotional outrage to that kind of historical event. And so, the thing that probably shocked me most was that you have those moments where you just, as a historian, have to find a way to tell a gruesome story, because that story is necessary to understanding in three dimensions this moment in time. But even more shocking was how many of those stories there are. You know, you can find a version of that story for every college that’s established in the colonial world. You’re playing basically two degrees of separation from some horrific slaving voyage.

AMY GOODMAN: In the process, have you traced your own family’s roots?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: No, actually, my niece and nephews and I, this is a summer event that we’re planning, now that this is finished. We’re actually going to try and keep our promise to head south to North Carolina and South Carolina, where my father’s family, mother’s family, respectively, are from, and start tracing more of the family history. We’ve done some of it, but not all of it.

AMY GOODMAN: Are you related to Governor Wilder of Virginia, the first African-American governor of Virginia?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Our Wilders, my father’s side of the family, is right across the Virginia border from his. You know, they’re on the North Carolina side, and he’s on the southern Virginia side, and so there probably is some relationship. You know, we would recognize him, but he wouldn’t recognize us. And so, there’s no direct relationship that I know, but I imagine there must be. And certainly, when he was governor—you know, both my sisters live in Virginia—it was a great time to be a Wilder in Virginia, and so I miss him.

AMY GOODMAN: And Duke University, its history?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Duke’s not in the book, you know, and mainly because, actually, the Duke that we know is—you know, a lot of the money actually moves to it in the early 20th century. And so, much of what creates it as the institution we know today happens after this book is done, yeah.

AMY GOODMAN: Howard University?

CRAIG STEVEN WILDER: Howard University is not in there, but, you know, the—the story ends at the Civil War. And Howard and the historically black colleges that will be established right after the war, I think, are a fascinating topic, because, you know, not only do you have some of the first institutions that are educating African Americans in large numbers, but you also in fact have a significant Native American presence on those campuses during their early years. And so, there are versions of the Indian College, although they’re a little more integrated, that we talked about earlier.

AMY GOODMAN: I want to thank you very much for being with us.


AMY GOODMAN: Craig Wilder is author of the new book, Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities.

Craig Steven Wilder, author of the book Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities. Wilder is an MIT professor of American history and has taught at Williams College and Dartmouth College. His previous books include A Covenant with Color and In the Company of Black Men.

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AUGUST 12, 2013

After Words with Craig Steven Wilder:

Craig Steven Wilder talked about his book, Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities, in which he explores the history of some of the country’s elite universities and discovers that many have a past intertwined with slavery.Several notable campuses were not only built by slave labor but funded by profits earned from the practice of slavery.The historian discussed his findings with radio host and political activist Joe Madison.


Craig S. Wilder
Professor of History
Head, History Faculty


B.A. Fordham University
M.A. Columbia University
M.Phil. Columbia University
Ph.D. Columbia University

Craig Steven Wilder teaches American urban, intellectual, and cultural history.

Professor Wilder’s most recent book is Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities (New York: Bloomsbury, 2013). He is also the author of In the Company of Black Men: The African Influence on African American Culture in New York City (New York: New York University Press, 2001/2004); and A Covenant with Color: Race and Social Power in Brooklyn (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000/2001). His recent articles include, “‘Driven . . . from the School of the Prophets’: The Colonizationist Ascendance at General Theological Seminary,” which was the inaugural essay in the fully digital journal New York History.

In 2004, Columbia University awarded him the University Medal of Excellence during its 250th Anniversary Commencement.

Craig Steven Wilder began his career as a community organizer in the South Bronx. He provides curricular and professional development workshops with public school teachers in low-income areas of New York City. He also advises community and social organizations in New York City.

Professor Wilder is a senior fellow at the Bard Prison Initiative, where he has served as a guest lecturer, commencement speaker, academic advisor, and visiting professor. For more than a decade, this innovative program has given hundreds of men and women the opportunity to acquire a college education during their incarcerations in the New York State prison system.

He has advised and appeared in numerous historical documentaries, including the celebrated Ken Burns, Sarah Burns, and David McMahon film, “The Central Park Five”; Kelly Anderson’s highly praised exploration of gentrification, “My Brooklyn”; the History Channel’s “F.D.R.: A Presidency Revealed”; and Ric Burn’s award-winning PBS series, “New York: A Documentary History.”

Professor Wilder has directed or advised exhibits at regional and national museums, including the Brooklyn Historical Society, the New-York Historical Society, the Chicago History Museum, the Brooklyn Navy Yard’s BLDG 92, the New York State Museum, the Brooklyn Children’s Museum, and the Weeksville Heritage Center. He was one of the original historians for the Museum of Sex in New York City, and he maintains an active public history program.

Wilder CV2013



Professor and Head
History, E51-255
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Cambridge, Massachusetts 02139
t: 617.324.7537
f: 617.253.9406

Doctor of Philosophy: Columbia University
Master of Philosophy: Columbia University
Master of Arts: Columbia University
Bachelor of Arts: Fordham University

Hon. Master of Arts: Dartmouth College

Professor: History Faculty, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (2008-present).

Professor: History, Dartmouth College (2002- 2008).

Assistant and Associate Professor: History, Williams College, Williamstown,
Massachusetts (1995- 2002).

Assistant Professor: Department of History, Long Island University, Brooklyn Campus

Senior Fellow: Bard Prison Initiative, Bard College.

Visiting Professor: Department of History, University College London (Fall 2007).

Visiting Professor: Departments of Historical Studies and Education, The New School
University, New York (2006- 2007).

Trustee: New York State Historical Association (2010-present).

Editorial Boards: New York History (2006-present); The New-York Journal of American
History, formerly The New-York Historical Society Quarterly (2002-2008); Afro-
Americans in New York Life and History (2001-present)

Reviewer for Henry Holt, Norton, Yale University Press, Columbia University Press, the
University of North Carolina Press, the University of Chicago Press, Fordham University
Press, New York University Press, the Journal of American History, Gender & History,
American Quarterly, and others.

Consultant: “The Central Park Five,” a documentary by Ken Burns, Sarah Burns, and

David McMahon (2012).

Consultant: “My Brooklyn,” a documentary by Kelly Anderson (2012).

Advisor: “In Pursuit of Freedom: The Abolitionist Movement in America,” The
Brooklyn Historical Society (2010-present)

Consultant: NBC News On-line History Project.

Advisor: “Slavery in New York,” the New-York Historical Society's research
program and exhibits on slavery and antislavery in the Mid-Atlantic region

Consultant: “FDR: A Presidency Revealed,” The History Channel.

Consultant: “New York,” a ten-hour PBS documentary by Ric Burns and Steeplechase
Films (January 1997-September 2001).

Consultant and Advisor: Museum of Sex, New York City; Brooklyn Museum of Art;
Brooklyn Children’s Museum; Museum of the City of New York; New York State
Museum; New-York Historical Society; Brooklyn Navy Yard Museum at Building 92;
Weeksville Heritage Center; Chicago History Museum.

Craig Steven Wilder, Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s
Universities (New York: Bloomsbury, 2013).

________________, In the Company of Black Men: The African Influence on African
American Culture in New York City (New York: New York University Press, 2001,
paperback 2005).

________________, A Covenant with Color: Race and Social Power in Brooklyn (New
York: Columbia University Press, History of Urban Life Series, 2000, paperback 2001).

Craig Steven Wilder, “‘Sons from the Southward & Some from the West Indies’:
American Colleges and Slavery the Age of Revolution,” in James T. Campbell, Leslie M.
Harris, et. al., eds., Slavery and the University, (forthcoming.)

________________, “‘The Honors of Old Yale’: The Connecticut Elite and the Rise of
Anti-Abolitionism,” in Sven Beckert and Seth Rockman, eds., Slavery’s Capitalism: A
New History of American Economic Development (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press, forthcoming).

________________, “‘Driven . . . from the School of the Prophets’: The Colonizationist
Ascendance at General Theological Seminary,” New York History (Summer 2012).


________________, “Black Civic Life and Social Institutions in Antebellum New York
City,” in Ira Berlin and Leslie M. Harris, eds., Enslaved City: Black Life in Antebellum
New York (New York: The New Press and the New-York Historical Society, 2005).