DRUM

The intersections of radical Black and working-class politics in Detroit

By Dr. Andy Clark

DRUM Membership, image provided by author

DRUM Membership, image provided by author

Undertaking my Master of Arts at Central Michigan University, I developed an interest in radical Black politics. I opted to focus my main research paper on this topic. Despite limited prior knowledge, conversations with Professor Timothy O’Neill introduced me to the unique and fascinating history of the Dodge Revolutionary Union Movement (DRUM) and the formation of the League of Revolutionary Black Workers in Detroit’s auto industry following the race rebellion of 1967. The findings led to my argument that the intersections of race and class in the radical politics of the movement are crucial in understanding their aims, and the historical context within which they emerged.

The Hamtramck Assembly Plant (formerly Dodge Main), owned by the Chrysler Corporation, was located a Polish ‘enclave’ within the geographical boundary of Detroit. By the 1960s, the workforce at the plant was around sixty percent African American, and there was a history of racism and confrontation amongst the workforce. The establishment of DRUM was a reaction to the disciplinary procedure of Chrysler following a wildcat strike of White and Black workers against the speed up of the production line on May 2nd 1968, which had halted production the following day. The United Auto Workers (UAW) stated that strike action was ‘unauthorized’ and were working ‘to get them to call off the pickets,’ whilst Chrysler stated that they had received no official notification of the action. Following the strike, African Americans were disciplined disproportionately. This led to the formation of DRUM, with the first issue of their self-titled newsletter stating that ‘we as Black men and women looking for equal opportunity in employment can not tolerate this.’

DRUM continued to agitate and organise within the Hamtramck Plant, with the publication of a regular newsletter and direct action to achieve their aims. They participated in the local democratic processes of the UAW, and sought their members elected to key posts, albeit with limited success (amidst accusations of racism against the local branch). DRUM led to the creation of the League of Revolutionary Black Workers, who strove to develop the struggle against oppression outside the auto industry and challenge the racial and capitalist oppression of Black Americans.

DRUM, and the League, have most frequently been described as a Black Nationalist organisation in extant literature on the politics of the period. Through an analysis of DRUM’s literature, it is evident that while they were a racially exclusive organization—with membership restricted to Black workers—their long-term ambition was international socialism and the end of the economic exploitation of all workers. This positions their ideology outside of the dominant discourse of race-based nationalism. My research indicated that the politics of DRUM were both a race and class-based response to the socio-economic position of the Black population in Detroit. The social structures in which DRUM emerged are crucial in explaining their ideological motivations, the nature of the organization, and their objectives.

Table 1: Percentage of Detroit’s African Americans living in White or predominately White areas, 1940-1960.

Percentage of African Americans living in predominantly White areas

City of Detroit

1940 51

1960 15

Metropolitan Detroit

1940 31

1960 15.6

As table 1 demonstrates, Black Detroiters increasingly lived in separate locations through the process of White Flight. Overwhelmingly located in the poorest housing, Black’s perspectives on racial and economic structures of society were vastly different from much of the White population. As a result, working-class Black organizations assumed a racial differentiation from Whites and visibly constituted a distinct group within Detroit society. Many Black radicals used the terms of colonized and colonizer in describing the relationship between Blacks and Whites. DRUM’s approach highlighted this class struggle. Although the final aim of the Black workers’ struggle was a unified working-class movement to overthrow capitalism; in the social context of Detroit, DRUM believed that they had to first engage in an anti-colonial struggle, to free the Black population from racial oppression, before assuming a vanguard role that united working-class struggle.

That being said, there existed a racially defined labour aristocracy in the auto industry. The notion of a labour aristocracy is based on factors such as wage security, skill status, geographical differentiation, and union representation. These factors were evident in the Detroit auto industry and race was the primary indicator of these differentials. The relegated position of Black workers at Hamtramck was substantial. Despite Blacks accounting for approximately 60% of the workforce in the late 1960s, 99% of General Foremen, 95% of all Foremen, 100% of Superintendents, and 90% of skilled apprentices were White. Due to the lack of action by the UAW over the position of Black workers, DRUM attacked the union and accused it of failing its Black membership. However, this was also a reaction to the perceived conservatism of the union in representing the interests of all workers, not purely a struggle based on racial separatism. As with the social structure in Detroit, the racial aspect of the labour aristocracy largely predisposed that the struggle of Black workers within the auto industry would embody a race-based critique of the UAW.

Rather than viewing DRUM as a ‘Black Nationalist’ organisation, it is evident that their politics emerged from the lived experience of the Black population in Detroit and its auto industry in the late 1960s. In seeking to overthrow the oppression of capitalism, DRUM asserted that Black freedom was a necessary precondition. This highlights the nuanced intersections between race and class politics in the period, moving the discussion beyond racial assumptions of political activism. The position of DRUM, in their own words, was clearly international, intersectional socialism:

White workers are being cheated and yet hate Black workers. Capitalism lives off the hate of racism and America lusts after death...WORKERS OF ALL COUNTRIES UNITE!


Andy Clark is a Postdoctoral Research Associate with the Newcastle University Oral History Unit in the UK. He completed his MA at CMU in 2012 before obtaining his PhD at the University of Strathclyde in 2017. He has recently signed a contract to publish his first book, Dynamics of Activism: Scottish Women’s Factory Occupations, 1980-1982 with Liverpool University Press (2021).

Life After Grad School, Part 2

Some suggestions to help prepare you for the job market:

By Kevin T. Hall

Whether you are in the beginning, middle, or nearing the end of your degree, the big question that looms over every student is: what do I do after graduation? It can be very intimidating, stressful, and even cause anxiety. The key goal, of course, is to not just graduate (though that is a great accomplishment), but also to find a job using your hard earned degree.

It is important to know that it can be a difficult process to find a job due to stiff competition, especially in the field of history (and in humanities in general). Graduates do not often have the luxury to choose what job they want. Rather, they must apply for hundreds of positions and hope for an interview. It is not unheard of that there are 1,000 applications for a single postdoctoral position. As you can imagine, receiving an interview can be quite the luxury. However, no matter how many rejection letters you receive, keep applying for positions, tweaking your applications, practice interviewing, and talking to your professors about their experiences and if they have any suggestions. It is also key to try to stay positive, motivated, and determined.

If your goal is for a position in academia, it is very important to gain teaching experience (by being a teaching assistant and an adjunct), publish with peer-reviewed journals (as well as trying to publish your dissertation), present at national conferences, join professional organizations in your respective fields, and continue to expand your professional network. Exhausting but worth it.

It is important early in your studies to set goals for your career ambitions and what steps will assist you down the road. For me, I decided during my undergraduate degree that I wanted to become a professor of German history—a goal I still have and am working towards. My first step was fluency in German, which led me to study abroad. This was an amazing experience and greatly impacted my personal and professional life. I highly recommend study abroad, as it forces you out of your comfort zone as well as experiencing new cultures and ways of thinking. All of which will positively impact your future, regardless of career ambitions. I was fortunate to be able to study abroad for a second time as part of CMU’s doctoral history program and allowed me to conduct a large amount of my dissertation research. Not found in many doctoral programs, this a unique opportunity.

The importance of getting to know your professors, for example by visiting them during their office hours, cannot be overstated. For me, this was key throughout my academic studies. Their support greatly assisted me in gaining further insight into specific topics, obtaining internships, gaining grants and scholarships, and expanding my professional network. Letters of recommendation are very important when applying for internships, grants, and eventually for jobs, and you should remember to ask for these well in advance (and make sure these remain current). The widely used “Interfolio” is very helpful for requesting electronic letters of recommendation as well as submitting documents for academic positions. It is also helpful to have a professor who knows your work well to look over your application documents, especially the cover letter. They have a watchful eye to make sure you’re on the right track.

Attending conferences, and presenting your research, alongside publishing can help significantly when you later apply for positions. This expands your professional network and also markets you and your work and capabilities as a researcher. Connections from conferences, workshops, and publications have the potential to result in a future jobs and interviews. Obviously, there are numerous factors that will come into play; however, it is an important first step. While seminar papers are not ready to submit to journals right away, make the effort and spend the extra time improving them based on your professors’ feedback. While writing book reviews is a great way for graduate students to begin publishing, publishing articles in peer-reviewed journals will be much more helpful when applying for jobs.

Do not hesitate in applying for prestigious grants, internships, and eventually for highly desired jobs. You never know what could happen! 

Aloha!

Aloha!


Kevin T. Hall is a recently graduated PhD from the Central Michigan University Department of History. He received his doctorate in 2018 under the supervision of Dr. Eric Johnson. He has now moved to Hawaii to work for the DPAA. His book: Terror Flyers: The Lynching of American Airmen in Nazi Germany is forthcoming with Indiana University Press.

Life After Grad School, Part 1

By Kevin T. Hall

When Gillian first approached me about writing for the blog, I agreed happily as it is a great opportunity to explain my job as a historian for the Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) and provide a brief history of the recovery of U.S. soldiers, who went missing during foreign wars. But more importantly in part two of this post to offer some advice, based on my experiences, regarding what students can do during their studies to be best prepared for the job market.

The DPAA is an agency within the Department of Defense tasked with finding, recovering, and identifying over 81,000 U.S. personnel who went missing between World War II and the Gulf Wars. As a historian in the Indo-Pacific Directorate, the main conflict on which I focus is the Korean War. My main duty involves researching the events surrounding the loss of U.S. soldiers on the Korean peninsula, including the most likely location of their remains. This information partially determines where field teams conduct their searches, supports forensic analysis once remains are recovered or disinterred, and provides families with current, detailed information regarding the loss of their family member. It is truly a meaningful job to not only help account for these missing servicemen who gave the ultimate sacrifice, but also to help provide long-awaited answers and closure for families.

Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) located on Joint Base Pearl-Harbor Hickam, Hawaii

Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) located on Joint Base Pearl-Harbor Hickam, Hawaii

The recovery of U.S. soldiers’ remains has a long history that dates to the Spanish-American War. Unique to the States, no other country seeks the repatriation of its missing soldiers from foreign soil. Following both World Wars, the American Graves Registration Services (AGRS) worked tirelessly to provide the permanent internment of servicemen in foreign cemeteries, or, if families so chose, the repatriation of soldiers’ remains. While this set the standards for the burial and repatriation of soldiers during subsequent conflicts, it was not until the Korean War that concurrent returns became standard. This meant that the AGRS repatriated remains before the cessation of hostilities—something that had never been done. This change in policy reflected the rapidly changing battle lines, challenging terrain, logistic difficulties, as well as the initial shortage of AGRS members, as every soldier was needed to fight.

During the first several months of war, soldiers are forced to quickly bury their deceased comrades in makeshift cemeteries or even in foxholes. In numerous instances, U.S. forces were forced to leave the dead and wounded where they rested, as enemy forces overran their positions, and withdrawal was vital for their survival. While U.S. forces recorded the location as best as possible, the remains were often gone once they returned. Soldiers’ remains were buried in unknown locations by locals and the wounded were taken prisoner. However, being a POW offered little safety, with numerous examples of torture and murder.

While concurrent returns aids in identification, numerous isolated graves and unknown burials makes accounting for lost servicemen complicated. Even if the isolated graves were clearly marked, the devastation wreaked and often destroyed any recognizable signs and occasionally, locals would move the remains of soldiers to unknown areas. Moreover, any written or verbal account of such burials had to survive the war. While this did hinder AGRS efforts, they were able to recover over 30,000 American service men from 1951 to 1955, and identified over 97 percent of the remains.

The remains ready to be repatriated from Korea were sent to the Central Identification Unit in Kokura, Japan to be processed, identified, and prepared for transport and burial. The task was daunting and overwhelming, as identifying remains could be difficult, and even impossible, given their state and the technology available at the time. It caused families great anguish waiting to receive an update about their missing son, father, brother, grandson, or nephew, and this suffering was further compounded the longer their status remained “Missing-in-Action” (MIA). For the remains that could not be identified, they were interred in the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Honolulu, Hawaii as “Unknowns.”

Currently, the DPAA is disinterring these Unknown Korean War servicemen in several phases to identify them as well as the ongoing investigations and searches in South Korea. While there have been successful exchanges of U.S. remains from North Korea in the past, it has been difficult to conduct investigations there due to tense political relations. Despite this, the North Korean government repatriated 55 boxes of remains in the summer of 2018. These are currently undergoing analysis for identification. There are currently over 7,600 U.S. soldiers still unaccounted from the Korean War.

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit a crash site of WWII B-24 Liberator Bomber (44-40332). Where I gained a deeper understanding about the search and recovery missions. This aircraft in particular crashed on the island of Oahu on May 5, 1944, after it departed Hickam airfield. It failed to clear the ridgeline and subsequently crashed, killing all ten airmen (three of whom were actually from Michigan). The airmen’s remains were recovered.

With the sole mission of the DPAA being to account for missing servicemen, relics, artifacts, and wreckage are usually left behind. That is, unless it can assist in identifying remains. After a few mile hike, we had to climb down a ravine to see some of the remaining wreckage. Over the years, the wreckage slid down into the valley below and is very difficult to access. The boot heel discovered is possibly from one of the crewmembers.


Kevin T. Hall is a recently graduated PhD from the Central Michigan University Department of History. He received his doctorate in 2018 under the supervision of Dr. Eric Johnson. He has now moved to Hawaii to work for the DPAA. His book: Terror Flyers: The Lynching of American Airmen in Nazi Germany is forthcoming with Indiana University Press.

Skills that Pay the Bills

Some light desk reading

Some light desk reading

Impacting the 9-5 with a History Degree

By Carol Ossenheimer

How anticlimactic life felt when my dream job was not handed to me the day after receiving my diploma (thanks Obama). With student loans looming, the best option for me at the time was to apply my History undergrad where it could really make an impact (i.e. whatever place would hire me). Trading in my late nights researching for days at a desk job did not mean I had to discard everything my history courses taught me. A constant interest for improvement, knack for organizing vast amounts of information, and a global mindset are unique abilities crafted as a history undergraduate and that when applied to any job, can make any history student a valuable member to whatever career path they take.  

When sharing our research and discussing readings in our history courses, we are encouraged to push and challenge the views of our classmates. This was a way for us to find gaps in each other’s arguments and strengthen one another’s critical thinking skills. From this practice, we develop a strong drive for improvement and a curiosity about how the world works. An office can be filled with individuals that are all too comfortable in accepting an outdated process as, “It’s the way we’ve always done it.” I was given that answer at my current job when I asked why everyone was throwing paper into the garbage cans. Shortly after, I talked to my supervisor and now every department in our building has a recycling bin. A small victory, but this is one of many examples where the hunger of a history major to look for new ways of thinking will drive you to seek solutions to problems others may have given up on or have not thought of. You may not always find ultimate solutions to every problem you encounter (welcome to Adulthood), but it is the drive to remain curious and seek improvement that moves your career forward, and may even encourage your colleagues to seek progress in their own work.

No history professor would accept a research paper without detailed evidence and a fine-tuned bibliographic citation. Such expectations craft history majors into tenacious beings when supporting our own arguments. We should take pride in our prowess to traverse fidgety microfilms, fading manuscripts, long-forgotten languages, and any other primary source we can decipher to support our findings. Gratefully I’m no longer required to use Chicago style citation to support my work, but the skill of organizing and interpreting vast amounts of detailed information can have the entire office see you as both a reliable and independent worker.  

 Co-workers are initially spellbound by the amount of emails I’ve kept and archived in my many digital folders, but when they require information from a specific email sent out six months ago, or that PDF the customer sent us last year, who do they seek for assistance? The History Major. Time is money in the 9-5 and being able to supply precise information in a quick manner makes you a reliable wealth of knowledge. Many of your coworkers can feel overwhelmed and bogged down by the amount of information that passes through shared emails, PDFs, Excels, and databases. Staying on top of the extensive amount of information will not only keep you organized and efficient, but make you someone that can work independently with minimal supervision, another company time saver.

A third skill we learn as history majors is the ability to see our lives on a global scale. One example of this would be understanding that other countries your company might work with have different cultures and holidays than we do in the States. This might sound like a no-brainer, but you would be surprised the shock expressions I receive from co-workers when I tell them our Thailand supplier is off for a week in the springtime when we in the States, are not.

Being aware of and respecting the holidays of my non-US suppliers requires me to plan ahead. Should a customer request an emergency order when my Thailand constituents are out of the office, I can support our customer’s needs without having to involve Thailand during their time-off. In return, my non-US suppliers know that my company is closed during the Christmas holidays and plan their needs around our downtime. Having a global mindset and being able to take a step back from ourselves and see how you fit in the world allows success in your work and relationships with those from a different culture than your own.  

While we may not always find ourselves in a job directly related to our field of study, it does not mean that we must abandon all our scholarly skills. There are multiple abilities aside from these three that I have developed from my time behind the tomes and while I do miss the academic ambiance this time of the year, I do enjoy reading a biography these days without needing to write a book review after.

The author out exploring

The author out exploring


Carol is pleasingly employed in the automotive industry as her company’s top Purchasing Planner and Import/Export Consultant. When she’s not on the 9-5 grind or brushing up on her reading, she’s baking, hiking, and saving up for her next travel adventure.

We’re Listening

By Dr. Brittany Fremion

In fall of 1973, as the leaves began to take on brilliant hues that defied name, a dairy farmer in southwestern Michigan noticed something wrong with his herd. Milk production plummeted and his heifers exhibited strange health problems, such as watery eyes, patchy skin, and loss of appetite. They aborted calves and those that survived would not eat. Over the course of nine months, with much unease and persistence, the farmer, Rick Halbert, discovered the cause of his herd’s ailments: a fire retardant, polybrominated biphenyl (PBB), had accidentally been added to his livestock feed at a local coop instead of a nutritive supplement. But it was not just Halbert’s animals that had fallen ill. Other farmers across the state noticed similar problems with their herds, as well as other animalsswine, sheep, chickens, rabbits, horses, quail, ducks, and geese.[1] Farm families—men, women, and children—started to notice changes in their health, too. Many of their concerns and observations were dismissed by peers or public officials, even as information about the tragedy unfolded. A community member recalled, “they were hurting. And nobody listened to them.”[2]

What Halbert discovered was “a massive exposure,”[3] one of the largest chemical contaminations in U.S. history. PBB had chemically entered the human food chain via farm products—eggs, pork, poultry, beef, and dairy goods—exposing millions of people. When the company that manufactured PBB, Velsicol Chemical (formerly Michigan Chemical), closed its St. Louis facility doors in 1978, it left behind a heavily contaminated community.[4] The Michigan Department of Public Health (now Michigan Department of Health and Human Services) initiated research into acute health effects in 1974 and established a long-term study in 1976 with a consortium of federal agencies. Research into the long-term health effects of PBB exposure is ongoing.[5] Yet, few Americans know about the Michigan PBB contamination or its legacy.

The Michigan PBB Oral History Project documents the history of the PBB mix-up through a series of audio-recorded interviews with community members—farmers, chemical workers, consumers, public officials, researchers, and activists. Each interview is transcribed and audited. Then, a copy of the audio file and transcript are returned to each participant for feedback and clarification. Once interviewing concludes, the oral histories will be donated to the Museum of Cultural and Natural History at CMU and will be preserved in a special research collection made available to community members, researchers, and educators, with the hope that they will be used for educational purposes. These oral histories establish an important and permanent community presence in the historical record. The interviews are emotional in a way that documentary evidence is not—or cannot be. Oral histories are personal. And they are powerful.

Much of this work would not be possible without the support of CMU students, whose involvement also makes this project special. From April 2018 to the present, six undergraduate and five graduate students from history, cultural resource management, and education programs have spent nearly 2,000 hours conducting, transcribing, and auditing interviews, attending community events, and preserving donated personal papers. To date, we have conducted more than 40 interviews with 50 individuals, amounting to almost 60 hours of audio recordings. The students—Lea, Nikki, Candy, Carolyn, Tom, CJ, Emily, Anna, Elizabeth, Luke, and Logan—learned about oral history theory, methods, and ethics in their time working on the project. They also learned a great deal about the ways PBB contamination changed individual lives, communities, industry, and research, and thought deeply about why this history matters.

For instance, Candy, a graduate student in history, observed that “these stories stick with you.” She was moved to tears in a panel presentation this spring, wherein she shared insights from interviews with farm family members. Anna, an education major, wrote, “history, to me, is no longer just about places and ideas you can read about in a book, but something much more personal.” Logan and Elizabeth, education majors, have asked how the history of the PBB mix-up can be made part of Michigan’s educational standards and plan to bring their experiences from the project into their own classrooms.

These students have shared in the pain and sorrow expressed by many community members, as well as celebrated moments of joy and triumph. They have heard the voices of those who, for a long time, felt unheard. Most importantly, they have been good stewards of the past, which seems ever present, as the past is never in the past, especially when chemicals are involved. Their work matters. And the stories they have helped to preserve will make in indelible mark on future listeners. That is pretty incredible.

Many thanks to the community members who have graciously shared their time and memories, whose stories have forever changed us, and to those whose stories we have yet to document.  

We’re listening.

Capture.PNG

The Michigan PBB Oral History Project is a collaborative endeavor inspired by community members and researchers at Emory University, which maintains The Michigan PBB Registry, the long-term health study. The oral history project is funded by the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences, the National Institutes of Health, with additional support provided by the Museum of Cultural and Natural History, Department of History, College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences, Clarke Historical Library, and Office of Research and Graduate Studies at CMU, as well as research partners at Emory University and the University of Michigan.

[1] Michigan Department of Agriculture, “PBB Contamination Status Report,” June 16, 1975, in Dr. Alpha Clark Papers, Clarke Historical Library, Central Michigan University (accessible by request).

[2] Patrick Muldoon interviewed by Brittany Fremion in Grand Rapids, Michigan, October 10, 2018 for the Michigan PBB Oral History Project.

[3] Frederic and Sandra Halbert, Bitter Harvest: The Investigation of the PBB Contamination: A Personal Story (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1978), p. 158.

[4] After closing the St. Louis, Michigan, plant in 1978, Velsicol estimates it paid the state $38.5 million to clean-up. The total cost to date is $480 million and includes Pine River sediment remediation, a radioactive site, and three Superfund sites. The Pine River Superfund Citizen Task Force formed in 1998 and mobilized community members to oversee EPA clean-up efforts. It is one of the most successful EPA-designated Community Advisory Groups (CAG) in the country. For more information, visit their website: http://www.pinerivercag.org

[5] According to recent studies, 6 out of 10 Michiganders still have elevated levels of PBB in their bodies (higher than 95% of the U.S. population). For more information about findings and research, visit the Michigan PBB Registry: http://pbbregistry.emory.edu


Brittany Fremion is an environmental and oral historian at CMU. She is the project director for the Michigan PBB Oral History Project, a proud member of the Pine River Superfund Citizen Task Force, and new board member for the Michigan Oral History Association.

A Family Affair

Michigan’s Mexican-American Migrants

By Ethan Veenhuis

On 12 June 1993, the Frank O. Barrera Chapter of the American G.I. Forum held a ceremony in Flint, Michigan, to honor the Mexican American veterans of the Second World War who hailed from Genesee County. Private First Class Epifanio V. Barajas was one of the honorees that night. Barajas, a member of F Company, 47th Infantry, 9th Division of the U.S. Army during the war, was amongst the most highly decorated Latinx veterans from the state of Michigan. During his time in the army, he saw action in the North African theater, Germany, and France in the initial D-Day invasion force that landed on Omaha Beach. For his service the Army awarded him (among other medals), two Purple Hearts, the Bronze Star, and special recognition for his skill as a sharpshooter.

Born in San Antonio, Texas in 1921, Barajas came to Michigan with his family sometime before the war began. The Barajas family worked as migrant farm labor in Texas picking cotton and other agricultural products whenever and wherever they could before following a wave of workers north to the upper Midwest and Michigan. According to the historian Steven Rosales, by the mid-1920s, agricultural workers of Mexican descent made up between “75-90%” of the work force in the sugar beet fields of Ohio, Iowa, Minnesota, North Dakota, and, of course, Michigan. These workers came to the region as migrant farm labor. Recruited in Texas these workers were promised free travel, high wages, and in some cases even a house to live in. Many of these promises fell through but were effective nonetheless as workers came by the thousands every year. They settled across Michigan especially in the cities of Detroit, Pontiac, Flint, and Saginaw, where they found work harvesting sugar beets, cucumbers, apples, and cherries. When the United States entered the Second World War, many of these migrant farmers enlisted in the armed forces and served their country proudly.

After the war Barajas returned to Flint, and like so many others in Michigan’s Mexican-American community, took a job working for General Motors, raised a family, and found the better life that his parents had hoped for when they arrived in the early 1920s. Epifanio Barajas’ story is one small part of a much larger tale that began in Central Texas and found its conclusion right here in mid-Michigan. A story shared by thousands of Mexicans and Mexican Americans who came to the upper Midwest as migrant farm labor seeking the “American Dream” for their families, and wound up contributing significantly to their country in the process. This larger story is the focus of my current research and I plan to build and expand on what Steven Rosales began in his fantastic book Soldados Razos At War: Chicano Politics, Identity, and Masculinity in the U.S. Military from World War II to Vietnam.

Despite pioneering work on migration to Michigan, Rosales’ work on Mexican and Mexican American migration to Michigan is largely limited to the colonia in Saginaw and used in a discussion of life for these workers that lead up to their participation in the Second World War. My research goal and aspirations are to expand the scope of the project and include the rest of the significant Mexican colonias in the state. Furthermore, examine what life was like for these workers and their families leading up to, during, and in the immediate aftermath of the war. By utilizing the lenses of labor, gender, race, class, ethnicity, sexuality, immigration, migration, and cultural expression I hope to offer a more complete picture of our state’s often overlooked and erased Mexican American community during this significant period. It is incredibly important that we continually strive to revisit the moments in our history where entire groups of people have been relegated to the margins and create works that center their perspectives and magnify their voices. Since I quite literally would not be here without my abuelo, Private First Class Epifanio Barajas, telling his story and the stories of thousands of others like him is the very least I can do as a grandson and as a historian.


Ethan Veenhuis is a CMU History Masters Alumnus who graduated in December 2018. Ethan is a dog-dad from Flint, Michigan. His current research expands upon Rosales’ pioneering work, especially the Mexican-American story in Michigan. Further research interests are in Chicano History from the Second World War through the Civil Rights Movement. For more information or to contact him: veenh1ed@icmich.edu

The Japanese Emperor Abdicates

Emperor Akihito walks during a ritual called Taiirei Tojitsu Kashikodokoro Omae no Gi, a ceremony for the emperor to report the abdication ceremony to the goddess Amaterasu, at the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, Japan, on April 30, 2019.

By Dr. Jennifer Liu

Rituals filled the day of the abdication of Japan’s Emperor Akihito on April 30, 2019. According to Japanese mythology, the 2,600-year imperial line begins with the Shinto sun goddess Amaterasu. At dawn, the 85-year-old Akihito told the goddess he would be abdicating. Later, at the abdication ceremony (which lasted just over 10 minutes), he symbolically ended his reign by returning the “three sacred treasures” (a sword, jewels, and seals) that symbolize the throne. A crowd of nearly 300 politicians, Supreme Court judges, and their spouses attended. The following morning, Naruhito – the new emperor and Akihito’s elder son – returned to the same room at the palace to receive the regalia. Akihito’s Heisei (“achieving peace”) reign ended and Naruhito became the 126th emperor, beginning the Reiwa (“beautiful harmony”) era. Japan’s annual spring holiday, the “Golden Week break,” was extended to ten days to mark the occasion.

The enormously popular Akihito is the first emperor to abdicate in 200 years. The last Japanese monarch to do so was Kokaku in 1817. In August 2016, Akihito, citing concerns about his age and declining health, expressed his wish to abdicate while he was still well and capable. Having been treated for prostate cancer in 2003 and undergoing heart surgery in 2012, he sought understanding in a message to his people and immediately won overwhelming public support and sympathy, paving the way for the government’s approval. With Japan’s Imperial House Law lacking a provision on abdication by a reigning emperor and virtually allowing only posthumous succession, the government enacted a one-time law to allow Akihito’s abdication in 2017.

Akihito, joined by Empress Michiko and members of the royal family, speaks during his abdication ceremony on April 30.

Japan has the world’s oldest continuing hereditary monarchy. Legend dates it to about 660 BCE. Formerly the emperors were seen as living gods, but Hirohito – Akihito’s father – publicly renounced his divinity as part of Japan’s surrender at the end of World War II. Akihito became the first emperor who was a constitutionally defined symbol with no political power when he succeeded in 1989.

Nevertheless, Akihito was pivotal in helping repair Japan’s postwar reputation. He sought to make amends by traveling throughout Asia to apologize for his country’s wartime atrocities and acted as Japan’s chief consoler during times of disaster including the 2011 earthquake and tsunami that left approximately 20,000 people dead or missing. Akihito and his wife, Empress Michiko, visited survivors at shelters and were generally heralded by the public for their compassion in helping the battered nation recover.

The succession leaves only three heirs to the Chrysanthemum Throne: Akihito’s younger brother, Prince Hitachi; Naruhito’s younger brother, Akishino; and Prince Hisahito, Akishino’s only son. Japan’s current law forbids women from inheriting the throne. Should more female family members relinquish their royal status upon marriage to a commoner, as stipulated by law, it will be more difficult for the imperial family to carry out official activities. In retirement, Akihito no longer performs official duties. Known by the title joko (emperor emeritus), he and Michiko have moved into Togu Palace, a smaller royal residence in Tokyo.

Naruhito is taking the throne at a time when Japan faces numerous challenges, including plummeting birthrates and a declining, aging population. The country is making efforts to open itself to foreign workers, change Japan’s brutal, entrenched work culture, and reduce gender inequality. The emperor has no power to address any of these issues directly, but he can set an important tone. Analysts have been scrutinizing Naruhito’s previous public statements for hints of what his reign might look like. He has indicated that he believes the monarchy should adjust to modernity and is likely to continue emphasizing pacifism and war remembrance as well as continuing his father’s efforts to humanize the throne.

Naruhito delivers his first speech after his ascension to the throne on May 1.


Dr. Jennifer Liu Demas is a Professor of History at Central Michigan University. Dr. Liu specializes in the political and social history of twentieth-century China, particularly education, youth culture, student protest, and ethnic identity. Her current project, Indoctrinating the Youth, examines the Nationalist (Guomindang) government’s attempts to inculcate political loyalty through youth groups, compulsory military training, and secondary school curriculum from 1930–1960. For more information and to contact her please visit her faculty page.

Parliamentary history in the Pyrenees

71st ICHRPI conference, Andorra, July 2019

By Martin O’Donoghue

2019 marks the 600th anniversary of the convocation of the Consell de la Terra, the first parliamentary assembly in Andorra – a picturesque country of 78,000 inhabitants nestled in the Pyrenees mountain range straddling Spain and France. A co-principality which boasts both the Bishop of Urgell and the President of France as its two princes, it has a rich parliamentary history with the Consell de la Terra first given privilege in 1419.

It was thus fitting that the International Commission for the History of Representative Parliaments and Institutions came to this idyllic location for its 71st conference. Founded in 1936, the Commission is dedicated to the dissemination and publication of research on the history of representative and parliamentary institutions. As a global scholarly body, its conferences feature papers delivered in English, French, and German or in the language of the country where the conference is held.

This year’s conference was hosted by the Consell General, Andorra’s parliament, and discussions reflected key themes including the evolution of representative assemblies to democratic parliaments, parliaments of small states/microstates, forms of representation, and the internal organization of representative assemblies. Over three days, the conference featured papers from eighteen countries in Europe, Asia, and North America with a special reception hosted by the parliament and a cultural tour of sites of historical and architectural interest. Happily, in an academic environment of often ever-increasing fees, the conference was free to attend, and the schedule was excellently organised with the reception offered by the parliament allowing delegates the chance to visit the old parliament building and meet some current Andorran politicians.

The Commission’s events are a great opportunity to highlight the opportunities offered by international conferences where particular themes and phenomena explored in a local or national context can be compared and interpreted in the context of emerging research on parliaments and assemblies. The Andorran setting provided an ideal environment for discussion of micro-states and smaller states and the evolution of their legislatures. The numerous anniversaries marked in 2019 (not least those of states emerging after the First World War) provided intriguing departure points for detailed analyses of a range of case studies. Other noteworthy themes emerged from discussions such as the influence of certain constitutional or parliamentary models on neighbouring states and the comparison of the behaviour of chambers, clerks, and parliamentarians in different geographical and temporal contexts.

Both the content of papers themselves and the opportunities to meet and discuss research with a diverse range of scholars helps to reflect not only the importance of themes in parliamentary history like localism and the use of parliamentary questions but also more practical issues such as how funding proposals and projects based around studies of parliamentary history can be constructed. From my perspective, it was an opportunity to reflect on the centenary of the Dáil – the lower house of the Irish parliament which first met a century ago this year. My paper dwelt on the role of Dáil representatives who had previously served as Irish nationalist MPs at the London parliament in Westminster. The post-war election in December 1918 saw a changing of the political guard in Ireland as Sinn Féin defeated the Irish Parliamentary Party, meaning that those who served in both the British parliament pre-1918 and the native parliament afterwards were rare, but were often distinctive parliamentarians and served as reminders of the older political tradition in the new state. This paper drew on my forthcoming book, The Legacy of the Irish Parliamentary Party in Independent Ireland, 1922-1949 and it was a pleasure to present this work on a panel with fascinating papers on the use of parliamentary motions in the early years of Finnish independence and the construction of the post-war Italian constitution.

The generous timetabling of the session also allowed ample time for enjoying the wonderful town of Andorra la Vella and the breath-taking scenery of the surrounding areas. In addition to meeting members of parliament and enjoying the Consell General’s hospitality, other delegates even managed to fit in work at the state’s national archives! The Commission offers generous scholarships for early career scholars to attend its conferences though its Helen Maud Cam bursary each year. As can be seen from the ICHRPI’s website, conferences are hosted by impressive institutions in beautiful locations and as a member of the International Committee of Historical Sciences (CIHS), the Commission’s next congress will meet in Poznan, Poland in 2020.


Martin O’Donoghue is a lecturer in Irish and British History at Northumbria University and a member of the ICHRPI. His upcoming book is The Legacy of the Irish Parliamentary Party in Independent Ireland, 1922-1949 and will be published by Liverpool University Press later this year. For more information or to contact him see his contact details at Northumbria or on twitter: @ODonoghueMartin

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In search of Marion Facinger

Marion Facinger - image provided by Jane Freidson

Marion Facinger - image provided by Jane Freidson

A pioneering historian of medieval queenship only published one article on the subject. What became of her?

By Michael Evans

A few years ago, I was working on a book about the image of Eleanor of Aquitaine. As part of my research, I read the pioneering article written by Marion Facinger in 1968, “A Study of Medieval Queenship: Capetian France, 987-1237.” No academics really did queenship before the 1960s: the assumption that queens were merely passive consorts, valued only as wives and mothers, meant that the concept of queenship as an institution, involving female political agency, was largely discounted. Even today, MS Word flags “queenship” as a typo, emphatically underscored with a wavy red line. Facinger was one of the first scholars to take medieval queens seriously: historian Nina Verbanaz writes that she “first introduced a systematic study of queenship as an office.”

But who was Marion Facinger? Her article changed the study of medieval queens, yet she seemed never to have published again. The editors of a collection of essays on Eleanor of Aquitaine (John Carmi Parsons and Bonnie Wheeler) credited Facinger’s work, and a biography of Eleanor by Marion Meade, to the same author, one “Marion (Facinger) Meade.” Yet I found it hard to believe that Facinger’s scholarly article, and the romanticizing and slightly speculative biography by Meade, were from the same pen. Had Facinger changed direction to write a mass-market biography of Eleanor? It is one thing for a writer to change their style to write for a popular audience, quite another to reverse their entire interpretive approach. And Facinger’s married name was Freidson – maybe Meade was a nom-de-plume? To confuse matters further, Marion Facinger Freidson had also published on nineteenth-century Italian literature.

So I took to email; one of the editors of the Eleanor of Aquitaine volume assured me that yes, Marion Meade and Marion Facinger were the same person. However, Marion Meade told me that no, she was not Marion Facinger. And so the matter was resolved and became a footnote in my book.

I thought little more about it, but I must have mentioned the Mystery of the Missing Medievalist in the medieval graduate colloquium that I taught at CMU a few years ago. One of my graduate students sent me a link to the website of Marion Meade’s daughter, Jane Freidson, who is a ceramics artist in New York. Freidson has produced a series in honor of her mother called the “Ladies’ Room Project.” I had, patronizingly, thought of Facinger as a lost talent because she had not pursued a career in academia, but Freidson’s website reveals that her mother lived a full and active life before and after graduate school:

She served as an army nurse in North Africa and Italy, reaching the rank of Lieutenant. After the war, she entered the University of Chicago on the GI bill and achieved an M.A. and a Ph.D. in medieval history. Her doctoral thesis on French queens in the middle ages is still cited as an early feminist work. She married and became a housewife, raising two children, one of whom had special needs. After a divorce in the mid-1960's, she returned to nursing and worked for decades at Englewood Hospital in Englewood, NJ. She was elected to several terms on the Leonia (NJ) town council where she advocated for environmental issues and against nuclear armaments and war. She loved her family, nature, and intellectual conversation. She was an avid reader, a writer of letters, a gardener, seamstress, baker, birdwatcher, and much beloved by her friends and colleagues.

Like many talented women in the 1950s, Facinger saw her career take second place to that of her husband, the sociologist Eliot Freidson. Jane Freidson told me that after her mother’s time at Chicago they moved frequently, “finally to N.J. in 1957. All these moves were for my dad's career. So everything Marion did on her dissertation was long after she left Chicago - she must have been working from afar.” Facinger’s return to nursing “must have offered a higher salary without all the politics of the ivory tower.” Plus ça change…

In learning about Marion Facinger, I discovered the rich life of someone I had known previously only as the name attached to an article. She may not have made academia her career, but she demonstrates that the work of graduate students can change an entire field – or even create a new one.

I would like to thank the following people for their assistance: Jane Freidson, for giving me permission to use pictures from her website, and providing additional information about Marion Facinger’s life; John Carmi Parsons and Marion Meade for responding to my emails; Derrick English for informing me about Jane Freidson’s work.


Michael Evans is an instructor in History at Delta College, and a former lecturer in CMU’s History Department. He is also the author of several works on medieval queenship including: Michael Evans, Inventing Eleanor: The Medieval and Post-Medieval Image of Eleanor of Aquitaine (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). For more information or to contact him visit the Delta Faculty page.

An Experience to Remember: CMU’s History Department

By Analiese Guettler

Central Michigan University’s history department has filled my college experience with a wide range of opportunities of which, the opportunity to both learn from and learn with professors, graduate assistants, and my fellow students has been very rewarding. Though I may have my favorite professors, each and every one of them are excited and passionate about the topics and areas of history that they are teaching. All the professors have unique viewpoints and want to share as much of their knowledge as they can with their students. Though each student’s experience is different, my time in the history department was memorable.

One of my favorite classes was History 323: History of Native Americans taught by Dr. Cassidy. The class is a writing intensive and fills a requirement for my degree. Dr. Cassidy herself is an asset to the department. She is so knowledgeable and always willing to help with resources for class projects or final essays. I am always recommending her class to other students, both in and out of the history department, whether they need a Writing Intensive class or not because of how much I enjoyed my experience. The class focuses on the Native American Experience, the Native Ground, and the American Indian Movement.

One of the best assets that the history department has to offer students are their Graduate Assistants. It has been my experience that getting to know one of the GAs in a class and asking them for help is one of the best ways to achieve success—and the grade you want—particularly, when working through material or a class format that is not suited to your particular learning style. On more than on occasion I have walked into one of my Graduate Assistants’ offices and gone over material and difficult concepts in order to make me feel more comfortable. Our conversations have made lecture and doing assignments so much easier; it’s okay to ask for help if you need it! During my experience with History 112 The Struggle for Equality: The United States 1865-Present, interactions with my TA Gillian helped me make sense of the Reacting to the Past pedagogy. She helped me with my reflections and assignments so that the concepts like Marxism and Socialism were more approachable and understandable and for gaining points (PIPs) during the game.

Extract from HST201 Syllabus

Extract from HST201 Syllabus

Because of the nature of my degree, I have tried to take as many different classes with different professors as possible. Since I want to be an educator, I felt that it was important to see all the different ways to set-up classes and then explore what I thought were the strengths and weaknesses of each format. The game-based learning structure in History 201: World History to 1500—taught by Dr. Truitt—was probably my favorite format to learn in. Dr. Truitt allows students to explore different ways of learning and to pick and choose the type of assignments that they want to complete, making it an extremely inclusive class for all different types of learners. Furthermore, it accommodates students’ crazy schedules by giving them a small amount of flexibility when assignments are due. For example, the final in Dr Truitt’s class was game based, which meant that we created a game as a group about our chosen topic of interest and ran it as a class final which was a really cool way of being examined rather than the traditional written exam at the end.

Each and every one of the professors that I have taken classes with focus on getting students involved with not only the material but also each other. We discuss ideas in both group projects and discussion where different views and ideas and how best to approach different topics. Alongside this, we discuss what each student finds particularly interesting about the class. I have found this aspect of classes to be extremely helpful with finding new information, new interpretations, and continuing to expand my knowledge beyond what I have read to also include what my fellow students have to say as well. Overall, I have had a very positive experience and I will continue to encourage other students to take history classes for not only their interest but also to experience different teaching styles.


Analiese Guettler is a final year undergraduate student who is studying secondary social studies with a concentration in political science and a history minor. She is also part of the Central Michigan University Band. For more information or to contact her:

Email: guett1am@cmich.edu or on twitter: @AGuettler

Discovering Love in a Smallpox Hospital

By Dr. Andrew Wehrman

When I was working on my dissertation, I remember talking to my advisor T.H. Breen about digital cameras in archives and online databases changing the way people research and write about history. Breen quipped, “With all that technology, you should be able to research and write your dissertation in six months, right?” He liked to go to archives with a stack of index cards and write individual quotations and references on each one. The research trips ended with hundreds of cards and he would lay them out as he began writing, which has led to a profoundly productive career. My methods have changed rapidly with technology, and while my research has not churned out faster, it has made my work richer (richer in detail, not money, folks). I will give you an example of how archival photography, online databases, and savvy keyword searching breathed new life into documents that an index card system would likely never have caught.

On one of my first archival research trips in graduate school, I visited the Phillips Library, in Salem, Massachusetts, which has since moved Rowley, Massachusetts. I took photos of the collection labeled “Salem Hospital Records, 1777.” These were detailed medical records of patients in Salem’s smallpox inoculation hospital. While doing my research, I focused on earlier years not expecting these records to become part of my dissertation but photographed them anyway thinking they might prove useful later. I have since found that records like these are exceedingly rare. Most hospital records, especially from smallpox hospitals, did not survive. These were particularly detailed, consisting of 577 patient records spread across two dozen little notebooks and remarkably difficult to read. If you think your doctor’s handwriting is bad, try one from the eighteenth century. The doctor, Edward Augustus Holyoke, listed each patient, their age, and a record of symptoms and treatments given. To make sense of his notes, I created an Excel spreadsheet, to keep track of and draw conclusions about his group of patients.

Among the most interesting details, Holyoke almost always included the number of pocks that appeared on each patient’s body after inoculation. Inoculation—the purposeful insertion of smallpox matter via an incision usually on a patient’s arm—most often resulted in a mild case of smallpox and grant lifelong immunity. This was before the discovery of vaccination, which uses cowpox matter and would confer immunity without the infection (humans cannot spread cowpox). Anecdotally, I knew some patients would get a few pocks, usually on their faces and hands, and in rare cases patients would get hundreds all over their bodies. Under ideal conditions fewer than one percent died from the procedure. Using my spreadsheet, I tracked the number of pocks to look for any obvious patterns. Out of 577 patients, about half received fifty or fewer. Thirty lucky patients received zero, one, or two. However, there were also thirty patients with over a thousand. Only one patient, a baby girl just a few months old, died from the procedure, but other babies went through it fine. There did not seem to be any real pattern for who fared better or worse based on age, sex, race, or family.  

As I was finishing my book manuscript, I came back to these photos and my spreadsheet and began to wonder about those patients with thousands of pocks. Surviving but scarred, did they live long after their inoculations? Were they able to get married or have children? Questions I could not easily answer when I started the project. After an afternoon of internet searching, I uncovered what I think is a love story. I focused my attention on one name in the records: Judith Herbert. Judith was 21 years old when she entered Salem Hospital in spring of 1777 to be inoculated. Hers was a tough case. Although she survived, she broke out with “4 or 5 thousand pustules.” To find out more, I googled “Judith Herbert” in Salem, MA, and found her in several genealogical records available through Google Books and Internet Archive. I even found in Dr. Holyoke’s diary that he attended the wedding of Judith Herbert of Wenham, Massachusetts and Dr. Edward Barnard in 1781. Judith’s marriage was significant since young women and their parents worried that smallpox scars would prevent them finding a husband.  

After finding the marriage record, I found out more about Dr. Edward Barnard. It turns out that he was a Harvard graduate. I knew to search Sibley’s Harvard Graduates, which contains biographical sketches of every student who attended Harvard College from its first class in 1642 through 1774. Fortunately, I did not even have to leave my desk. Volume 18 of Sibley’s is available online via HathiTrust Digital Library. Where I learned that Barnard graduated from Harvard in spring of 1774, helped organize his hometown of Haverhill’s militia company in September, and in October 1775 began studying medicine with Dr. Edward Augustus Holyoke in Salem. Barnard was Holyoke’s assistant when his future wife broke out with 5000 pocks in Salem Hospital.

Now, I cannot say for sure that this is when they first met or where they fell in love. But it makes sense that Barnard attended Herbert closely as she battled one of the most severe cases of inoculated smallpox. In my historical imagination, five thousand little cartoon hearts swirled around them—one for each bloody pustule, of course. The scars did not affect a long marriage or a long life but may have affected her fertility. Judith and Edward had just one child together, a son also named Edward. They were married for forty years until Dr. Edward Barnard died in 1822. Remarkably, Judith Herbert Barnard died in 1845 at age 90.

Even though Breen was right that taking digital photos in the archive and searching them against digitized materials online has not made research and writing any faster, I do think it has made it better.


Dr. Andrew Wehrman is a historian of early American history and the history of American medicine at Central Michigan University. His current book project The Contagion of Liberty argues that popular demand for public inoculations during smallpox epidemics in the 1760s and 1770s infected Revolutionary politics and changed the way Americans understood their health and government’s responsibility to protect it.

Twitter: @ProfWehrman

Finding "Place" in the Past

By Camden Burd

M-20 is a not a particularly unique highway. It’s just one of many that crisscross the Michigan landscape. Yet the highway does carry some special significance to me. I drove it often when commuting between my family’s small cabin near Remus (pictured above) and Mt. Pleasant while studying at Central Michigan University. I can still visualize many of the sites along the route. Whether it was the humble façade of the Remus Tavern or the grandiose “Welcome to Mt. Pleasant” painted across the Ann Arbor Railroad Bridge on western edge of town, the familiar landmarks connected me to specific place, time, and experience.

We all have these places: a childhood home, a familiar walk, an iconic tree—even a favorite coffee shop can stir feelings of familiarity, and comfort. Most significantly, though, they create meaning. John Brinckerhoff Jackson, scholar of landscape studies, describes this type of attachment as a “sense of place.” People often transform mundane locations, nameless vistas, and sprawling landscapes into places because of “a lively awareness of the familiar environment, a ritual repetition, [and] a sense of fellowship based on shared experience.” Understanding the significance of a place tells us about the values of people who find meaning in the landscapes, monuments, and activities associated with those particular places.  

Historicizing a “sense place” has been the constant thread of my academic work since I began my MA in History at Central Michigan University in 2012. I first became interested with the study of place when I examined the historical roots of Michigan’s tourism industry in Northern Michigan. I was enamored with the perennial tradition of tourists and cottage-goers that traveled “Up North” for recreation and respite. With guidance from Jay Martin and Brittany Bayless Fremion, I dedicated my MA thesis to the cultural and environmental roots of the still-modern tradition. The core material of that research would later become the basis for my first peer-reviewed article, “Imagining a Pure Michigan Landscape: Advertisers, Tourists, and the Making of Michigan’s Northern Vacationlands,” published in the Michigan Historical Review. Since then I have written on various topics related to “sense of place.” Whether it was an essay describing how Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s Song of Hiawatha served as a shared language for progressive-era conservationists to find new meaning in the cutover districts of the Upper Midwest or another article that illustrates how diminished economic activity on the Erie Canal motivated state and national politicians to create a new heritage-tourism industry along the artificial river. I have always started my research with a particular place and study the people who found meaning in it. Like a mirror, the study of the sense of place can reveal cultural assumptions, environmental values, and community values. 

Of course, a place’s meaning can change over time. Economic forces often disrupt livelihoods and community networks. New technologies shift the nature of work and how individuals interact with each other as well as local geography. Environmental changes can also shift the meaning of a place. Forests fall, rivers become dammed, and the behemoth influence of industrialization commodifies, extracts, and alters landscapes beyond recognition. Therefore, a sense of place can be a valuable lens to study past cultures. How historic groups value, interpret, and use landscape offers historians a unique lens to track environmental, economic, political, and cultural shifts over time. After all, these are the places where people make a home, find work, form identity, and create meaning.

 

Some suggested/favorite readings on Place:

Kate Brown, Dispatches from Dystopia: Histories of Places Not Yet Forgotten (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2014).

Jared Famer, On Zion’s Mount: Mormons, Indians, and the American Landscape (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2008).

John Brinckerhoff Jackson, A Sense of Place, A Sense of Time (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996).


Camden Burd received his PhD in History from the University of Rochester in 2019. Before his time in Western New York, he spent two years completing his MA in History from Central Michigan University. During the 2019-2020 academic year Camden will be an Andrew W. Mellon Postdoctoral Fellow at the New York Botanical Garden.

www.camdenburd.com

Is Anyone Really Writing? Everyone is Writing, and No one is Writing.

By Dave Papendorf

There is a strange phenomenon that exists in academia and within the Humanities in particular.  Apparently, every PhD student is writing their dissertation. How industrious of them! They retreat to an airy salon and knock away at their typewriters while feeling the thrill of progress. These students are consistently fueled by the swelling approval of their ever-vigilant supervisors and the pleasant typewriter ding of every line completed on their ground-breaking project.

However, upon closer examination, this proves to be false. In fact, as it turns out, no one is writing their dissertation. Instead they write emails, book reviews, journal submissions, funding proposals, fellowship applications, course syllabi, comment on students’ work, teaching philosophies, job applications, letters of recommendation, conference papers, bibliographies, and exam prompts. After all of this, they are left dejected, despaired, and despondent. To get a job, PhD students need to be doing all of these things. “A dissertation is not enough” the market tells us. Good thing too, after keeping so many plates spinning, who has time for a dissertation anyways!

Perhaps this is too melancholiac of an assessment. After all, people are constantly finishing and defending their dissertations. But surely the sentiments shared above resonate with my colleagues. At least I hope they do, because in my experience pressures mount not only to finish the dissertation but also develop professionally with some ontological crises along the way. In the remainder of this post, I will share a little of my experience as a dissertation-writing, plate-spinning, job-hunting ABD student. Hopefully, we can commiserate together, and my honest reflections can help spur on my current and future colleagues to keep writing. Friends, please receive my unsolicited advice kindly. Most importantly, I hope this post gives non-students a view into the psyche of a late-stage PhD student.

Some of you might recognize me as a previous editor when I had just started “writing” my dissertation. While I have made progress since editing the blog, it has not been as swift as I hoped. C’est la vie. Nevertheless, I have noticed three things about myself as a “writer” that are worth sharing.

An Airy Salon for the Industrious PhD Student

An Airy Salon for the Industrious PhD Student

Despaired, Despondent, and Dejected (ish)

Despaired, Despondent, and Dejected (ish)

1. I am what you might call a “long runway” type of writer. In other words, it takes me a long time to get “off the ground” writing productively (please indulge my aerial metaphor). I need a plan, an outline, a developed structure, and goals to check off and mark my daily progress. This helps me feel as if I am doing something and forces me to come to grips with the reality of my current situation to complete my dissertation tasks (see checklist below). If you cannot simply sit down and write, this might help you. However, it is not a failsafe for all students. I find that when I do get to writing, I write in chunks. Recently, I wrote 13,000 words in nine days, but keep in mind this took two weeks of “runway” time. Alternatives would be short bursts of writing (write all you can over a weekend) or slow-and-steady (write for 50 minutes a day, regardless of quality).

Papendorf Checklist.jpg

2. I am always more successful when I measure my progress in terms of word count rather than number of pages. I write using Scrivener software which measures word count and not page numbers and stores footnotes outside of the text. I find these elements helpful because I think less about overall length and more about paragraphs. Doing so helps me focus on the cohesiveness and effectiveness of my writing rather than numerical values. Overall, this benefits my argumentation and writing quality. On a more metaphysical level, focusing on word count helps me think less about “space” on a page and more about argument.

3. I have developed a schedule-oriented plan to finish my dissertation all the way to my dissertation defense date. I have two plans: one labeled “ambitious” and the other labeled “realistic.” This two-pronged schedule gives me the impetus to be ambitious while not condemning me for being realistic. Ideally, I would finish somewhere between the two. I find that having a large-scale idea of where I am headed in advance to be consoling. Such a plan also helps give me the right “push” when I need it and comforts me when I feel like I should be doing more. Finally, sharing this with my supervisor has been helpful so that we are on the same page and the ever-frightening gap between actual progress and supervisor-expected progress is mitigated.

PapendorfGraphic.jpg

I titled this post sardonically. However, cynicism is often revealing even if just revealing to its source. I suspect that many feel the same way as I do. The industry seems to be heaping more pressures on students so that our focus is diverted from dissertation writing even while, at the same time, doing more tasks overall. So, to restate the titular question, who is writing after all? Answer: everyone is writing, and no one is writing. PhD students, soldier on. Non-PhD students give a dissertation writer a hug. All of us need one.


Dave Papendorf is a late-stage History PhD Student at Central Michigan University and a Special Instructor of Historical Theology at Moody Bible Institute. His research examines the early Reformation in France (1520s-1540s) and the connections between the French and German Reformations during this period.

For more information or to contact him visit his graduate profile.

Celebrating the Summer of ’69 at the CMU Museum

By Caity Burnell

Besides the drilling and hammering sounds from the multiple construction projects, most of campus is quiet in the summer. One exception is CMU’s Museum of Cultural and Natural History in Rowe Hall. School field trips finished up for the year in mid-June, and while museum staff miss seeing school groups, the summer months are filled with various exciting activities. Many visitors come to enjoy the new “Kozmic Clash: Peace, Love, and Outer Space” exhibit, which opened in April 2019. As a collaboration between Museum Studies faculty and staff and Museum Studies/Cultural Resource Management/Public History students, the exhibit celebrates the groundbreaking innovation and creativity of 1969, such as the Apollo 11 moon landing and Woodstock festival. An accompanying hands-on gallery “Feel the Music” is a great space to experiment with music in a fun environment. Visitors can express their creativity by drawing with chalk on “Honey Bear” the VW minibus that is in the museum lobby. This is an exhibit for people of all ages because for some, it is a brand-new topic, and for others it sparks nostalgia and memories from their personal history, such as the record album artwork displayed in the hallway. The research and a personal object from one of the History Department’s faculty members are even on display in the exhibit. Come visit the museum and see if you can spot the object!

Since the museum is a laboratory for students to gain hands-on experience, this was a great learning opportunity for many who work and volunteer at the museum. One, Brad Davis, created an interactive exhibit on the Main Gallery ceiling about the moon landing for the fulfilment of his CRM creative endeavor. He designed a comic book about the Apollo 11 astronauts’ journey with missing pieces of information that visitors fill in by shining a backlight flashlight up to the ceiling to expose the missing words. While this was experimental in nature—to see if an interactive ceiling exhibit worked—Brad found that it is a success after surveying school groups and the public.

PictureD: Brad Davis demonstrating the Interactive Ceiling

PictureD: Brad Davis demonstrating the Interactive Ceiling

This summer the museum is hosting its annual Tour Tuesday series, offering free public programs on Tuesdays in July. The first was on July 9 at the Bohannon Schoolhouse and the beautiful weather allowed visitors to not only spend time inside experiencing a typical 1901-era school day but also go outside and play vintage games. The next three programs are at the museum, held in the galleries and lobby on July 16 (Moon Landing), July 23 (Feelin’ the Music), and July 30 (Habitats and Homes). More information is available on the museum’s Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/CMUMuseum/.

Also happening in July is Curious Curators. One of the museum staff’s favorite programs, this special one-day program lets six students entering either fourth or fifth grade experience a day as a museum professional. Their day starts with a behind-the-scenes tour of the museum, they then each work closely with a staff member to create a new exhibit. This year’s participants will each be researching and writing a label about a museum object related to the events and culture of 1969. Other activities include visiting the Bohannon Schoolhouse, touring parts of campus, and then showing their families around the museum at the end of the day.

In between these various programs, staff are busy solving collections conundrums, developing new educational programs, brainstorming future exhibits, and more. Local summer camp groups are visiting the museum including the City of Mount Pleasant Parks and Recreation’s PEAK program and Renaissance Public Academy, whose students are creating their own mini museums using school resource kits borrowed from the CMU Museum. The groups visited the museum and enjoyed discussing how changes in technology have affected peoples’ lives throughout history and looked at old cameras and phones as examples.

While any day of the year is a great time to visit the CMU Museum, summertime is especially wonderful as there are fewer groups and it offers a nice break from the outside heat. The museum is free and open to the public weekdays 8-5 and Saturdays 1-5. CMU requires weekday guests to have a parking pass, which are available at the museum’s main office in Rowe 103 or online at https://apps.cmich.edu/vehicleregistration/guest/default.aspx. To reserve a program for a group, call 989-774-3829 or visit www.museum.cmich.edu.


Caity Burnell is the Museum Educator and Research Collections Coordinator at the CMU Museum of Cultural and Natural History and a CMU Museum Studies Alum. Caity teaches in the Museum Studies program at CMU, including the classes MST 325: Public Programming in Museums and MST 310: Introduction to Museums. For more information on the museum visit the staff page on the CMU website and follow them on twitter or instagram!

  1. Twitter handle: @CMU_Museum

  2. Instagram: @cmumuseum

New Season, New Editor

Author Visiting the Murals in the Detroit Institute of Arts

Author Visiting the Murals in the Detroit Institute of Arts

Just as the seasons change, so must the tenure of editors of the blog. We bid farewell to one editor-in-chief and welcome another. As summer gets under way in 2019 (last of the teens…) I hope that everyone is enjoying some well-earned time off and the glorious weather. While you are taking it easy and hopefully writing, I will be meticulously looking after [Re]collection until the New Year. As such, I am excited to bring you some new content, organize, assemble, and most importantly, showcase these wonderful posts for the remainder of the year.

I would like to thank my most recent predecessor Marcel Haas for his help and navigational guidance. Moreover, I would like to thank his predecessors for maintaining such excellent work, their work ethic and contributions make this a hard standard to live up to, but I shall endeavour to maintain the excellence you are used to.

Let me introduce myself, my name is Gillian Macdonald and coming in the Fall I will be a fourth year PhD candidate in the Transnational and Comparative History PhD program at CMU. Since it is my fourth year, I am hoping to complete a good chunk—if not all—of my research and writing in the coming year. Before coming to CMU, I was a student at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow that is one of the history department’s partner institutions. I completed both my Bachelors Honors Degree and my Master in Research at Strathclyde there. During my MRes year I was approached about attending CMU through the partnership exchange and four years later here I am completing my PhD.

After a year of completing requirements, my historical interests primarily lie in Early Modern Europe, the Medieval World, and the History of the United States with a sprinkling of inter-war Europe. Having read at least a few books in each field I can honestly say I am fascinated. However, my primary area of research lies in seventeenth-century Great Britain. The seventeenth-century is when all the fun stuff happens, there’s two revolutions, they lob off some king’s heads, start an empire, go to war with the Netherlands, France, and countless other places, the fallout from the Reformation takes hold, you name it and it’s happening. My personal interests and research lie in the tail end of the century during the so-called Glorious Revolution of 1688-90—very contested name in the historiography—particularly in Scotland. This includes spies, refugees, pirates, and parliamentary legislation dealing with it all.

Over the course of the next few months I am looking forward to sharing experiences and updates as I travel to my archives and burrow into my sources. Hopefully I’ll be able to share some of my exciting finds and struggles along the way as I travel around the little British island that I call home and maybe to some more exotic places. As well as reviewing, sharing, and publishing any and all relevant contributions by our readers! I welcome and encourage all submissions please do not hesitate to drop an email at cmichhistoryblog@gmail.com.

Happy Holidays!

Home Sweet Home

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by Marcel Haas

All good things must eventually come to an end. As academics, perhaps more than anyone else, we live in a world of short terms. We leave home after High School, start undergrad educations that lead us across country and back, only to take up further education, different courses, shorter stays. We travel abroad, circle back, leave again, always searching for the next degree, the next completion of projects. Each of those projects seem to be the ultimate undertaking, until they’re over and done with, every time. After graduate courses loom PhDs and post-docs. They are followed by yet more short-term employments. Great projects, new funding, renewed fascination? Maybe along the way we lost hope, faith in ourselves, a belief that there will be an end to uncertain project jumping. Maybe we regained those hopes, faiths, beliefs somewhere as well. In any case, the wheel moves on, and we with it.

What I wanted to say was that there is no end, although we promise our families every time we come home for the holidays that exactly this end is so very near. The next degree, that next project, those last publications… Of course, in all this uncertainty and enforced flexibility, we can strive. We don’t have to fail the tests that are thrown in our paths periodically. And so we march on, homeward bound.

With this post, time has come for me to acknowledge the end of my tenure as editor of this blog. It also is time, however, to say goodbye to nearly six years of CMU, of living in Mount Pleasant, flying in to MBS Airport, and taking the Indian Trails bus South. It is goodbye to taking and teaching classes, grading and being graded, learning, studying, and editing side by side with fellow undergraduate, graduate, and PhD students, as well as professors. We had a good run, didn’t we?

The end is no such thing. For a couple of days I have sat around my temporary house back in Germany, thinking of how to say goodbye to America, six months after actually leaving the country. In truth, I had said goodbye then and there, subconsciously dragging it out until today. Of course, I haven’t yet finished my dissertation, not defended, not published my book. Therefore, we could argue that nothing really has come to an end. I just live somewhere else now. Like everyone else I have met along the way, I have also now moved on, back across the Atlantic, back home.

I’m not completely sure what the future will hold for me. I know that I will move to a different city in Germany, get married, find a new job… at the same time as still thinking about my Indigenous travellers, who, a little like me, went on journeys across the ocean to find out what was beyond. Like me, they also came back. To say it in the words of the immortal Mötley Crüe, “I’m on my way, Home Sweet Home.”

……….

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I want to end at least this post on saying thank you. Thank you to all those professors, assistants, custodians, and guardian angels of Central Michigan University who have made my last five years worth living in Mount Pleasant. Thank you to my friends and fellow travellers. You know who you are. Thank you to my students who listened patiently while my English became gradually better and worse again. Thank you for late emails, early reminders, the occasional criticism, advice, and praise. It was all appreciated and I will miss it and all of you dearly. I’ll see you when I see you.

Between Oil and Vietnam: Activists and their Opposition to Angola

by Julianne Haefner

About one year ago I shared my on-going dissertation project “U.S. Foreign Policy towards Angola during the Ford Administration, 1974 to 1977.” In the meantime, I have passed my comprehensive exams and have returned to working on my dissertation. Initially this was quite the struggle. On one hand, I was relieved to have passed my exams and finally be able to work on my dissertation again. On the other hand, I was a bit overwhelmed: I hadn’t touched my research in about six months and had to familiarize myself with my topic again. However, in January, I had a lucky break.  

As I have written previously for this blog, I researched quite a bit of President Ford’s foreign policy documents in the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library last summer. Throughout this research, I had an inclination that activists in the United States would have been active in opposing the intervention. But I didn’t have specific evidence for that. Until one day this past January when I stumbled over the African Activist Archive at Michigan State University. Their online holdings transpired to be a gold mine. I found countless images, newsletter, and pamphlets discussing the dangers of U.S. involvement in Angola and drawing attention to rallies and protests. In this post I want to share two of them: one of them an image from a demonstration in Washington D.C, the other a leaflet promoting a protest march in Philadelphia.

Credit: Southern Africa Committee photo archive (http://africanactivist.msu.edu)

Credit: Southern Africa Committee photo archive (http://africanactivist.msu.edu)

The first image was taken at a demonstration in front of the White House on December 13, 1975. One of the protestors had a sign that read: “If you liked Vietnam you’ll love Angola.” Many activists drew connections between the situation in Indochina and Southern Africa: In both regions the U.S. was interfering in the self determination of countries that had long been under foreign, colonial, rule. U.S. involvement in Vietnam had escalated over the years. This was a fear that many activists had regarding Angola as well. Although there were numerous reports about U.S. mercenaries fighting in Angola, at the time of many of the demonstrations the U.S. had not yet deployed troops to Angola, But activists argued that even though troops had not been deployed, similar to Vietnam this was just a matter of time in the stages of escalation.

The second document is a leaflet advertising two events in early February 1976 connected to intervention in Angola. One of those events was a protest march to Gulf Oil in Philadelphia. Several other oil companies had already secured drilling rights, but Gulf Oil was in 1975 the only company that had already been drilling in Angola. Oil was a particularly contested issue because of the first oil crisis that had taken place in 1973. Activists on the other hand argued for the divestment of oil companies from Angola. Criticism towards Gulf Oil appears in dozens of documents that activists had created. Reading about the criticism towards Gulf Oil reminded me of the divestment movement. As international criticism ramped up against apartheid in South Africa, activists called for the divestment of companies and universities from South Africa. The calls for the divestment of Gulf Oil were definitely not as wide-scaled as the divestment movement, but it is nonetheless interesting to see the similarities.

Credit: Vincent Klingler papers (http://africanactivist.msu.edu)

Credit: Vincent Klingler papers (http://africanactivist.msu.edu)

As I continue to read through the African Activist Archive documents I am sure I will come across more interesting documents. This is then the bottom line for other students working on research projects, no matter if they’re pursuing a PhD, master’s degree, or writing a capstone paper: Sometimes it pays off to aimlessly click around the internet.

A Year in the Life: Requirements, Sanity, and Being ABD

by Gillian Macdonald

While knowing what I was signing up for when I applied for the PhD program at CMU back in 2015, the scary parts (by scary parts I mean comprehensive exams mostly) seemed far off in the distance to be tackled by a more mature version of myself when the time came. After spending a glorious summer in Mount Pleasant in 2018, the third year was suddenly upon me. Just like that two years of preparation had vanished. As many of you know, the third year is usually about the time when grad students start to freak out because of comprehensive exams, prospectus writing, AND completing all of our language requirements to continue in the program. On top of that there is the graduate assistantship for the year. Sounds daunting, right?

I had heard enough stories from former grad students and those who were ABD already about exams to not only give you nightmares but also to know that there were mixed reviews.

*Piece of advice: don’t ask too much about it beforehand, it’s never going to be as bad as you make it out to be in your head.*

What studying didn’t prepare me for was the ever-looming dread that starts to hit you as the date approaches. However, your advisors will not let you sit the exams unless they think you are ready for it. Chiara Ziletti’s earlier blog post about exams (Spooked By Comps?) covers this better than I ever could.

Something I learned from this year, it’s okay to ask for help and TAKE A BREAK once in a while. Comprehensive Exams are one thing but your sanity is another, and arguably more important. I certainly spent a lot of my summer studying, and it paid off, but I am not sure I could have endured the tour de force that is third year without a few trips across Michigan or to the local watering hole to let off some steam. Thankfully, I have a wonderful cohort of friends—more like a graduate student family—that tell you when it’s time to step away from the notes and take a breather. More often than not they’re invariably right and sometimes you need some outside perspective. Or just a walk outside of the office that you will habitually be cooped up in furiously studying notes and mind maps to boot.

Looking back, I think the most stressful part of my third year was in the Spring semester. In hindsight I probably should have started writing my prospectus earlier (but that’s why hindsight is 20/20). However, having said that I might not have had my lightbulb moment about what I wanted my dissertation project to be. While this year was challenging—exams, deciding on a concrete dissertation project, passing two language requirements—it was also very rewarding. Not entirely academically so but being published for the first time is a nice bonus (even if it is a little book review).

Now onto the hard part, actually writing the dissertation. And so, I am off on my archival travels across the great Atlantic Ocean to a little bit bleary and rainy United Kingdom to scour the documents for my project. In parting, your grad school comrades are there to help. Don’t be afraid to ask for advice and lean on them when you get tired. If your friends are anything like mine, they won’t let you fall.

Lynn Hunt on Why History Matters Now More Than Ever: An Enthusiastically Biased Report

by Dr. Gregory Smith

When I volunteered to write a brief report on Lynn Hunt’s keynote address for the 2019 International Graduate Historical Studies Conference, I knew enough to expect a tour de force. (Anyone who has encountered Professor Hunt’s work has learned to expect tours de force.) But it was only in the days leading up to the conference, when I finally got a chance to finish her excellent book History: Why It Matters (Polity Press, 2018), that I started to suspect her talk might upend my other expectations.

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Frankly, I was expecting a jeremiad. When I see a title like “Why History Matters” I expect to hear something like the voice of one crying in the wilderness, telling us to take courage in the face of (1) a gathering storm where our words will likely be ignored, effaced, or taken out of context; and/or (2) a world of declining history enrollments, where people equate a liberal arts degree with un(der)employment or “useless” skills, no matter how often and loudly we cite decisive evidence to the contrary.

Fortunately for those of us present and for readers of this post, Professor Hunt’s address was emphatically not a jeremiad. Instead she argued persuasively that historians make a demonstrable difference, that the world (our world) is in no more danger of ending than it was twenty or thirty or fifty years ago, and that we should not give up on interpretation or epistemological self-scrutiny in the face of “alternative facts.” “Why History Matters Now More Than Ever” also featured a brilliant thumbnail sketch of postmodern theory – the kind of perfectly distilled summary that makes graduate students wonder why their teachers didn’t just say so in the first place —- and closed with an exemplary Q and A. Current and future professionals take note: this is how to do it.

On the major point, Professor Hunt reminded us that history matters because ordinary people listen and respond to how historians interpret the past. No, seriously, they really do! The last few decades have witnessed wide-ranging and non-trivial changes to the way Civil War history is taught in American schools, for example, even in those states where “revisionist” history textbooks were most resisted in the 1980s and 1990s.[1] There are many reasons not to be satisfied with the status quo, but in the midst of culture wars and literal wars it is easy to forget that professional historians have made a lasting difference. Crucial claims that used to be “controversial,” such as the role of slavery as primary cause of the Civil War, have become commonplace. Inclined to focus on how long it took, historians often underplay the more important fact that it happened in the first place.

In the aftermath (or in the midst) of “post-truth,” historians might also be tempted to give up on the critical self-evaluation that has always been a feature of the best sort of history. After all, isn’t postmodernism at least partially to blame for the rise of alternative facts, echo chambers, and the legitimizing of conspiracy theory?[2] Some might go farther still and eschew interpretation (at least temporarily) in favor of establishing “what actually happened”: historians as fact-checkers awarding Pinocchios. To all this Professor Hunt says “no.” It is the wrong response, and a self-defeating one. Facts are important, and historians know what to do to establish and debate the basic evidence. But interpretation remains central to the enterprise. Particular interpretations can be more or less persuasive than others, and we can still have meaningful debates that are not reducible to power-plays, aesthetic taste, or individual whim.

Another cause for cheer, and re-evaluation: Professor Hunt observed that public interest in history is as high as it has ever been. History museums, sites, parks, television – all are being consumed in numbers that present a bracing contrast to recent declines in history majors. Among other lessons is the fact that people who want history will get it from somewhere: professional historians ought to be playing an instrumental role in answering the demand.

The author and guest speaker, Dr Lynn Hunt

The author and guest speaker, Dr Lynn Hunt

I, for one, was convinced on almost every point. (I am not sure I quite share Professor Hunt’s long and broadly optimistic view on social media. She thinks it need not be any more negatively disruptive than other revolutions in the history of human communication, whereas I suspect that the invention of writing and printing are as different as they are similar to the sudden concentration of knowledge, power, wealth, and proprietary algorithms in the hands of an extraordinarily small set of people in California and Washington.)

But the best final summary and recommendation I can make, for those who were present and those who couldn’t make the talk, is to read History: Why It Matters. To list all the things I love about this book would be to write another blog post (or ten), but I cannot endorse heartily enough its observations about the universality of history-writing (pp. 48–52), its warning that “one day our histories will look just as incomplete” as the older work whose limitations we so often (and rightly) challenge (p. 55), its warnings against “presentism” (p. 111), and a set of almost-final words that reflect my own understanding and experience of history as well as anything I have ever read: “What do we learn from the past? For me, it is above all else respect for those who came before us” (p. 112).

  1. Jacey Fortin, “Texas Students Will Now Learn That Slavery Was ‘Central’ to the Civil War,” New York Times, November 21, 2018.

  2. Among many possibilities, see Matt McManus, “The Emergence and Rise of Postmodern Conservatism,” Quillette, May 17, 2018; Carole Cadwalladr, “Daniel Dennett: ‘I begrudge every hour I have to spend worrying about politics’,” The Guardian, February 12, 2017; and a rejoinder by Aaron Hanlon, “Postmodernism didn’t cause Trump. It explains him.” Washington Post, August 31, 2018.