Before readers get their drawers in
an uproar, I should explain that my title merely repeats the title of a new
book by historian Nancy Isenberg: White
Trash: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in America (Viking: 2016). And
a very fine book it is. I have to confess to an ingrained prejudice against the
title group most typified by the Trump supporters who seem drawn in large part
from this class. But reading Isenberg’s book opened my eyes to the long history
of contempt, exploitation and prejudice faced by what may be a dying breed, and
made me rather more sympathetic than I would otherwise be. To begin with,
Isenberg takes great pains to show that the contempt for both America as a
colony and the vagrants and beggars who would largely populate it had a long
history in England. Starting from the earliest colonial forays, the English saw
the new continent as “an outlet for the unwanted, a way to remove vagrants and
beggars, to be rid of London’s eyesore population” (10). More than that, they
saw America as not just a source of fertility and income, but moreso as a
“place of outstanding wastes, ‘ranke’ and weedy backwaters, dank and sorry
swamps” (10), literally a “waste-land” in itself and a convenient repository
for “waste” people. Ship captains in London actually rounded up children from
the streets of London to sell to planters across the ocean—it was known as
“spiriting.” Those and others like them sold into indentured servitude were virtual
slaves, unable to move or marry, subject to whippings, and able to be sold (the
master could sell the indentured contract to another master.)
Accordingly,
early tracts on the new land, like a famous one from Richard Hakluyt, saw
America as “one giant workhouse,” a place where the waste people of England
“could be converted to economic assets. The land and the poor could be
harvested together…” (21). The language used could be even more graphic: to
cure the “plague” of poverty in England, the colonies were called “emunctories, excreting human waste from
the body politic” (an emunctory is a human organ like a kidney that serves to
carry off wastes). And what Isenberg is at great pains to demonstrate is
simple: this English class system that saw the poor as societal “waste” to be
excreted was replicated in the new world and the new nation. In Virginia, for
example, a planter elite quickly took over the best lands, grew rich on tobacco,
and exploited not just slaves but their indentured servants. A 1662 Virginia
law stipulated that children remained servants until age twenty-four; servants
were classified as “chattel, as movable goods and property,” essentially
equivalent to livestock. The same social system pertained among the Puritans in
Boston. Far from being the cradle of democracy (Governor Winthrop labeled
democracy “the meanest and worst of all forms of government”), Puritan Boston
was dominated by class divisions where children were essentially the servants
of their father, and where the “first slave cargo arrived in 1638” (31). The
big divider in Boston and elsewhere was land. The landless were without
station, without election, without power of any kind; their only recourse was
to escape (usually to the frontier). The same held in Virginia. “The most
promising land was never equally available to all,” because the “royal
surveyors made sure that large planters had first bids on new, undeveloped
land, and so the larger tracts were increasingly concentrated in fewer hands”
(37).
This
was dramatically clarified in Bacon’s Rebellion, which took place in 1676 in
Virginia. Vagrants, frontiersmen, indentured servants and slaves all joined
Bacon in rebellion, and were known to the powerful as “offscourings.” The word
means “human fecal waste,” and it indicates both the contempt of the landowning
elite for the marginal landless, and their fear that a united underclass might
lead to bigger and far more lethal rebellions. One result was a hardening of
racial lines and the more formalized class divisions in the South. Isenberg
tells us about the Fundamental Constitutions
of Carolina (1669), written by none other than that great hero of the
founding fathers, John Locke. According to Isenberg, Locke’s tract not only
endorsed slavery, it promoted “a semi-feudalistic and wholly aristocratic
society” with noble titles taken from Germany (‘landgraves’), and categories of
inherited servitude (“leet-men” were like serfs, tied to the land and their
lord). Through it all—through the splitting of Carolina into North and South,
with the South dominated by slavery; and the attempt by James Oglethorpe to
create a slave-less colony in Georgia where poor whites could prosper with hard
work—the contempt for and exploitation of poor whites continued. They were
considered a new breed of human: lazy, slothful, interested only in procreating
their miserable kind. Robert Byrd described Carolina as “lubberland,” a swamp
of inferior, ungovernable people who had no desire or ability to make the land
productive or profitable, and therefore literally “waste-land.”
In
this situation, the main solution for poor, landless whites was escape to the “unoccupied”
lands of the west. Indeed, the populating of the lands from the Allegheny
Mountains to the Mississippi River was done mainly by the white squatters who
simply squatted on land, built a shack on it, and survived as best they could.
It was, Isenberg reminds us, “a recapitulation of the English tactic of getting
rid of its ‘waste’ by shipping it west to the colonies” (105)—in this case, the
territories west towards the Mississippi. And the attitude toward this “waste
people” was the same on the part of the landed elites in the colonies as it had
been by the British earlier: contempt. These frontier squatters did eventually
get their heroes and representatives. Andrew Jackson was probably the first of
note, dubbed the backwoods president who represented ‘cracker country.’ Daniel
Boone was another—a Congressional hero in a coonskin cap who epitomized the
frontier virtues of fighting spirit, contempt for Indians, and a love of
boasting. Isenberg quotes James Agee about this latter trait, said to derive
from the shame ‘crackers’ were said to be covering: “The poor…have merely
internalized a kind of ‘anesthesia,’ which numbs them against the ‘shame and
insult of discomforts, insecurities, and inferiorities’” (228).
Contempt
or not, the elites were always ready to use the poor to fight in wars. Just as
they formed the main battalions in the Revolutionary War, they were also the
mainstay of the Confederate forces. Plantation owners were able to do this by
redirecting “the hostility of the South’s own underclass, the nonslaveholding
poor whites” (159) towards both the black slaves and the northerners trying to
free them. Even though they themselves had been called the “degenerate race”
before the war, now poor whites were told that Yankees were actually the
degenerates, with an agenda not just of abolishing slavery, but “inciting class
revolution in the South” (158). Such propaganda was necessary because it was
common knowledge that this was “a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight.” The
rich could hire substitutes to fight in their place, while the poor were
subject to a conscription that targeted all males from seventeen to fifty. As a
result, there was strong resistance to the draft and to the war itself, with thousands
deserting a Confederacy many felt little attachment to. Perhaps they knew what
they were doing after all: in the reconstruction overseen by Pres. Andrew
Johnson (himself a southerner), more whites than blacks actually got federal
relief, with hundreds of thousands living off “Uncle Sam’s rations” (178).
This
may help us to understand how the current politics of “redirecting white
hostility” continues to work. That is, despite the fact that in recent years
white trash has become almost chic, a virtual ‘ethnic identity’—with Elvis
Presley a culture hero; with Andy Griffiths a TV hero; with NASCAR an
entertainment phenomenon that tops the charts; and with Lyndon Johnson and Bill
Clinton winning landslide victories for the presidency—the Republican party,
since at least Richard Nixon’s southern strategy, still depends on the white
population in the solid south to win its elections. And it does this in the
same way Confederate leaders did: it redirects white hostility towards
northerners, “eggheads,” government regulators, and urban blacks. Lyndon
Johnson, in one of his remarks to Bill Moyers, probably put it best:
“If you can
convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best colored man, he won’t
notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and
he’ll empty his pockets for you” (315).
In other words, poor whites, the
‘waste’ that the American Dream never seemed to reach, have always been exploited,
one way or the other. But rather than directing their hatred at those who
exploit them (land speculators or bankers or politicians) or the class system
that keeps them at the bottom, the dispossessed hate those they can look down
on (even if he’s President of the United States). And supplying someone to look
down on seems to be part and parcel of the political fabric of America. This is
evident in the campaign of Donald Trump in 2016; his most loyal supporters are
those whose hatred he has been able to redirect, convincing them that he, a
billionaire, is their ally in bitterness, in animosity towards the
‘government.’ In this sense—and we have no idea how successful Trump will eventually
be in mining this traditional reservoir of Republican rancor—the Trump
phenomenon validates Nancy Isenberg’s point in her book. Far from being some
marginal aspect of the national story, the dispossessed have always been key to
“our very identity as a nation” (320. They always have been, and still are, a
fundamental part of our history—a history that tries to perpetrate the
equal-opportunity-for-all myth, but which, in reality, becomes more and more
dominated by inherited wealth and, yes, deep class divisions. As she puts it in
her epilogue: though the labels have varied, from trash to wastrel to vagrant
to squatter to cracker to trailer trash, “White trash is a central, if
disturbing, thread in our national narrative” (321). It is the story of those
who fail to rise in America and a far more important part of “who we are as a
civilization” than most of us, especially our mainstream historians and politicians, have ever
been willing to admit.
Lawrence DiStasi
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