scholarly journals The Guise of Exceptionalism: Unmasking the National Narratives of Haiti and the United States, by Robert Fatton, Jr.

2021 ◽  
Vol 95 (3-4) ◽  
pp. 332-333
Author(s):  
Alex Dupuy
Author(s):  
Andrew C. Isenberg

Beginning in 1848, the circum-Pacific world experienced dozens of gold rushes; they punctuated the histories of the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Although individual prospectors dominate the national narratives of gold rushes, by the mid-1850s, industrial mining technologies had largely replaced individual miners with their pans and shovels. Notable among these industrial technologies was hydraulic mining, which used high-pressure water hoses to flush large amounts of gold-bearing gravel into sluice boxes saturated with mercury. Industrial mining technologies were portable—engineers who perfected hydraulic mining in California exported the practice to Australia, Canada, and New Zealand. Hydraulic mining exacted startling environmental costs: floods, deforestation, erosion, and toxic pollution. This chapter is by Andrew Isenberg.


2010 ◽  
Vol 9 (4) ◽  
pp. 503-507 ◽  
Author(s):  
Sherry Smith

For years, scholars of Native American history have urged U. S. historians to integrate Indians into national narratives, explaining that Indians' experiences are central to the collective story rather than peripheral to it. They have achieved some successes in penetrating and reworking traditional European-American dominated accounts. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in the field of colonial history. In fact, for several decades now colonialists have placed Native Americans at the center, seeing them as integral to imperial processes and as forces that simply can no longer be ignored. To omit them would be to leave out not only crucial participants but important themes. Native people occupied and owned the property European nations coveted. They consequently suffered great losses as imperialists bent on control of land, resources, cultures, and even souls applied their demographic and technological advantages. But conquest did not occur overnight. It took several centuries for Spain, France, the Netherlands, Russia, Great Britain, and eventually the United States to achieve continental and hemispheric dominance. Nor was it ever totally achieved. That 564 officially recognized tribes exist in the early 2000s in the United States demonstrates that complete conquest was never realized.


Slave No More ◽  
2019 ◽  
pp. 274-286
Author(s):  
Aline Helg

The epilogue briefly examines slave self-liberation strategies and legal emancipation in the fifty years following general emancipation in the British colonies in 1838 up to the abolition of slavery in Brazil in 1888. The epilogue explores differences in national trajectories to abolition, with particular attention paid to Cuba, Haiti, and the United States in order to show how these national narratives mask a longer history of repression, white compensation, and slave survival. While emancipation was eventually enacted across the Americas, many states' recalcitrance to liberate slaves-or to compensate them once emancipated-meant that even after 1838, slaves still relied on self-liberation in order to gain their freedom. Given the relative rarity of outright slave rebellion, many of the strategies of self-liberation-including self-purchase, flight, and enlistment-used by slaves before 1838 remained central to their attempt to gain freedom in the Americas even after British emancipation.


Author(s):  
Christine C. So

Narrating the Japanese American incarceration has always been an act of both remembering and forgetting, a representation of what happened when the civil and human rights of 120,000 Japanese Americans were violated during World War II. From the moment that President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 on February 19, 1942, which enabled the removal and imprisonment of all Japanese Americans from the West Coast of the United States, “remembering” the Japanese American incarceration has been an act that has alternately justified, explained, documented, repudiated, remembered, redressed, reconstructed, and deconstructed a profound betrayal of the United States against its people. In reading the histories and memories of Japanese American incarceration, it is important to consider a wide range of forms, the historical context of the representation, and the audiences to whom the narratives are addressed. While there have been a number of memoirs, novels, poetry, short stories, plays, films, photography, art, and music that make up Japanese American incarceration culture, it is important to consider artistic interventions alongside the national narratives that have served as the foundation of legal decisions, congressional acts and testimonies, national and state memorials, museum exhibits, and history books. Such histories often acknowledge the injustice of the incarceration, even as they simultaneously defend its necessity (legal cases), explain it as aberration (congressional acts), or incorporate and resolve the injustice within a larger US narrative of progress (museum exhibits and history books). National narratives of the incarceration thus involve remembering and forgetting, both making visible the injustice to a national consciousness and casting it as an exception to a progressive national identity. Art forms that remember the incarceration often bear witness to what national histories can forget, the disquieting absences, erasures, silences, fragments, contradictions, and traumas that can never be fully redressed nor reconciled.


Author(s):  
Rogers M. Smith

Authoritarian nationalist movements labeled “populist” are advancing xenophobic, intolerant “stories of peoplehood” to justify repression and exclusions in many nations today. That Is Not Who We Are! argues that those stories must be met in part by advancing more egalitarian and inclusive national narratives. It provides criteria for developing better stories of peoplehood and explores examples from many nations around the world, including Denmark, India, Israel, and the United States. The book concludes that stories championing democracy; a more perfect union; and the Declaration of Independence’s quest to secure rights for all can help to combat the dangers of Donald Trump’s “America First” nationalist narrative.


Author(s):  
Karin Alejandra Rosemblatt

This chapter lays out this book’s approach to the history of the human and social sciences and introduces a set of scholars who compared Mexico to the United States. Their comparisons, the chapter argues, hid from view the variety of peoples within each country, the transnational connections that bound the two nations, and the parallels between them. This book unearths those connections and suggests that expertise moved from South to North as well as from North to South. Intellectuals deployed a model of liberal modernity that characterized all humans as sharing a set of universal potentials. Liberal universalism spurred epistemologies and forms of social engineering that favoured generalizable knowledge. Yet experts were also inspired by eugenics and evolutionary ideas, and they ranked nation-states according to how closely they approximated universal criteria of progress. They thereby created exceptionalist national narratives, and those narratives grounded their comparisons. By revealing the shared paradigms that connected the United States and Mexico, this book calls into question those exceptionalist narratives and their racial underpinning.


2011 ◽  
Vol 29 (2) ◽  
pp. 573-606
Author(s):  
Theresa Alfaro-Velcamp ◽  
Robert H. Mclaughlin

Immigration histories typically endeavor to describe and hold a nation–state accountable not only for the laws and policies by which it admits some immigrants, but also for those by which it refuses, excludes, or deports other immigrants. This article explores immigration to Mexico and to the United States with attention to its implications for the status of persons, and also for the conventional historical narratives in each country. The article focuses on three techniques of governance that each country has engaged in regard to immigration. These techniques include: 1) the assignment of nationality as a singular attribute of personhood; 2) the use of demonstrable and documentable characteristics as criteria of admission; and 3) centralized registration procedures to monitor and control the immigrant population. The techniques are analyzed together because of their concurrent emergence in each country during the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The techniques are also complementary. They form a set that, although not unique to the United States and Mexico, nevertheless illustrates parallels and an interplay between the two countries, and, more broadly, illustrates how immigration presents a common predicament across different times, places, and forms of government.


2009 ◽  
Vol 89 (4) ◽  
pp. 603-641 ◽  
Author(s):  
Karin Alejandra Rosemblatt

Abstract The anthropologist Oscar Lewis first used the term “culture of poverty” in a 1959 article on Mexico. Within months, the idea that the poor had a distinct culture became part of a passionate, decade-long, worldwide debate about poverty. Scholars, policy makers, and broader publics discussed what caused poverty and how to remedy it. How entrenched were the class and racial differences that led to poverty? How did those differences affect a country’s standing in the community of nations? This article tracks the concept of a culture of poverty as a way of probing the reciprocal, if unequal, connections between Mexico and the United States and their relation to national narratives and policy debates. It tracks how Lewis’s formulation of a culture of poverty drew on his training as an anthropologist in the United States, his extensive dialogue with Mexican intellectuals, and his fieldwork in Mexico. It also shows how Lewis and others reformulated the notion in response to intense public controversies in Mexico and Puerto Rico; the vehement U.S. discussions surrounding the War on Poverty and Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s report on the Negro family, and larger events such as the Cuban Revolution, the U.S. civil rights movement, decolonization, the Vietnam War, and second-wave feminism.


1995 ◽  
Vol 43 (1_suppl) ◽  
pp. 69-82 ◽  
Author(s):  
Vera L. Zolberg

In recent years, controversies concerning the construction of displays of historical events have turned attention to the role of these public sitings. Although virtually any location to which access is relatively unrestricted may give rise to disputes, museums in particular have become foci of these debates. Their prominence is not surprising, since they are institutions in which a nation's qualities are ‘written’ or ‘shown.’ In this chapter I turn my attention to an important polemic in which two nations are involved: the United States and Japan. The subject is how the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was to be represented by a museum of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. It allows me to examine more deeply the interactions of groups representing divergent interests within the United States, in the context of global relations with a relative equal, rather than a dominated subject. In the process, I analyze the role of the museum as an institution involved in the construction of national narratives in two countries, the political controversies unveiled, and the lost opportunities for innovation in the museum's relationship to its public as politicians intrude upon professions.


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