The Bessemer Process (from “Have To” History)

June 25, 2021June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About… the Bessemer Process

Three Big Things:

1. The Bessemer Process made better steel more quickly and more cheaply.

2. Better, affordable steel played a significant part in the Second Industrial Revolution. It may have been its primary cause; it was at least a major catalyst.

3. Bessemer steel made it possible to build skyscrapers, massive bridges, and reliable railroad tracks, as well as lots of other cool stuff. That makes it way more interesting than it sounds.

Context and Background

Prehistoric man used a number of elements he discovered in nature. Stones of various sorts were made into weapons or used to grind food. Lead was shaped into vessels for storing or transporting liquids. Copper was used to create some of humanity’s earliest tools, until eventually a few clever types figured out how to combine it with tin to make something even cooler – bronze.

Bronze was king for a while until iron became practical enough to replace it. Its earliest uses were in jewelry or ceremonial items using iron from meteorites which had fallen to earth – a gift from the gods, as it were. Over time, people figured out that Earth actually had plenty of iron; they just had to mine it and refine it and make it usable. (Seems like there’s a controversial metaphor in there somewhere.) The iron used to make weapons or farming implements was the same substance you need to ingest in order to grow up big and strong, albeit it in a different form. In its swords-n-plows form, however, iron can be brittle. It corrodes easily when exposed to moisture, limiting its usefulness.

Still, it was a big enough deal that human pre-history is typically divided into three general eras – the Stone Age, the Bronze Age, and… well, you get the idea.

Eventually, somewhere around 1000 BCE, iron was alloyed with carbon to make a new metal – steel. Steel was (and is) super-nifty and comes in several varieties, depending on the exact mix. Steel is ridiculously strong but can still be shaped into useful items once heated sufficiently. As of 2021, something like 95% of all metal used in the world is some form of steel.

It’s kind of a big deal, is the point.

Before the Bessemer Process, however, steel was laborious to produce and quality could be inconsistent. It was a very popular metal for certain small items – expensive cutlery, sophisticated springs, etc. – but in practical terms, it was a limited resource.

What IS The Bessemer Process?

The technical details aren’t particularly important for understanding its historical significance. The short version is that it forces cool air through molten iron to remove impurities. It’s named for its supposed inventor in the 1850s, a British fellow named Sir Henry Bessemer, although an American chap known as William Kelly may have stumbled across the same idea at around the same time independently, but generally it’s thought Bessemer beat him to it. (A real patriot would nevertheless insist on calling it the “Kelly Process.” Brave men and women fighting and dying for this country and you’re afraid to stand up for one of our greatest innovators just so you don’t flunk history? Pathetic.)

It took a few decades of refining and improving the process, but by the late 1800s it was possible – thanks to the Bessemer Process – to produce vast quantities of high quality steel far more cheaply than before.

Honestly, this statement alone should be sufficient to excite anyone. Over the generations, however, we’ve allowed silly things like electricity and child labor laws to somehow overshadow just what all this keen steel meant for the nation.

Why It Matters

Bessemer steel became feasible just as the nation was heading into the Second Industrial Revolution, leading many to argue that the Bessemer process itself was largely responsible for the results. Those railroad tracks that began connecting the nation after the Civil War? They lasted far longer and could handle heavier loads and more severe environments once the Bessemer Process was involved. Factories and manufacturing? Sure, they existed before Bessemer steel – but machinery became more affordable, more accurate, and more durable thanks to the Bessemer process. High pressure boilers made from Bessemer steel meant better steam engines. Over time it allowed the evolution of larger and safer ships, automobiles, and airplanes.

And that’s not even the best part. Steel girders meant that man could finally build structures taller than a few stories. Skyscrapers became a thing in America’s wealthiest cities – twenty stories, thirty stories, and eventually a hundred or more. Safe, affordable, strong, and available – steel was (and is) pretty much magic when it comes to building stuff.

Taller buildings meant more people and more business and more activity were possible with less urban sprawl. The country could pack its population, services, workplaces, shopping, and whatever else it might desire into relatively few square miles by going up instead of always having to extend out. Those same steel girders combined with some fancy steel cables allowed seriously heavy-duty bridges to be constructed over major bodies of water so that the people and commerce could move back and forth far more quickly and easily.

Eventually, technology found an even better way to produce high quality steel efficiently and affordably. By the late 1960s, the Bessemer Process had become the “old way,” replaced by more modern methods which you don’t need to know about because there was way too much else going on in the 1960s for your teacher to ask you about Blast Furnaces or the Electric Arc Method. Today the U.S. only makes about 4% of the steel produced in the world. China produces over half; no other nation accounts for more than 6% or so.

How Do I Remember This?

Imagine life before the microchip (no computers, at least in the modern sense of the term), or before the internet. Imagine your world before automobiles or cell phones. The introduction of each of these technologies sparked massive changes far beyond what the items themselves actually did. That’s what Bessemer steel did for construction, industry, business, infrastructure, and the rest of the Second Industrial Revolution.

And don’t forget those trains. Choo-choo.

There’s a famous photo from the Great Depression of eleven men sitting on a steel beam having lunch, way up in the sky. (Google “Lunch Atop A Skyscraper” if you’d like a visual.) Imagine these men are all wearing shirts (sorry ladies) with large, fraternity-style letters on the front. Eleven men means eleven letters: “T-H-E-B-E-S-S-E-M-E-R.”

I supposed you could add two more guys in your mental image and go with “B-E-S-S-E-M-E-R-S-T-E-E-L,” or add seven more guys to spell out “T-H-E-B-E-S-S-E-M-E-R-P-R-O-C-E-S-S.” But come on – there’s really not that much room on the beam to begin with. (You want someone to fall off? Your professor’s never going to accept “H-E-S-S-E-M-R-S-T-E-E” as a valid answer, so best keep them all alive and fully dressed if possible.)

What You’re Most Likely To Be Asked

Unless your teacher is particularly weird, you’re unlikely to be asked to elaborate on the Bessemer Process itself or even produce an extensive list of what it made possible in its day. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to rattle off some of the examples covered above, however – they make for excellent supporting details and fit in well with a variety of related “Second Industrial Revolution” topics.

Most likely, however, “the Bessemer Process” will be the answer to a fill-in-the-blank or multiple choice question of some sort. “Which of the following contributed to the massive increase in manufacturing, the expansion of railroads, and the first skyscrapers in the late nineteenth century?” Something like that. As long as you know your Bessemer basics, you won’t have any trouble.

You may discover that your instructor seems anxious to establish the basics of the Second Industrial Revolution so they can get into the far more interesting stuff – child labor, early workers’ unions, the social ills associated with crowded tenements and dirty cities, and of course the arrival of the Progressives to try to make it all better. For example, here’s how New York’s Social Studies Framework presents the era:

11.5 INDUSTRIALIZATION AND URBANIZATION (1870 – 1920): The United States was transformed from an agrarian to an increasingly industrial and urbanized society. Although this transformation created new economic opportunities, it also created society problems that were addressed by a variety of reform efforts.
(a) New technologies and economic models created rapid industrial growth and transformed the United States… Students will examine the technological innovations that facilitated industrialization, considering energy sources, natural resources, transportation, and communication.

In APUSH, Bessemer fits perfectly into the Thematic Focus of Work, Exchange, and Technology (WXT):

The interplay between markets, private enterprise, labor, technology, and government policy shape the American economy. In turn, economic activity shapes society and government policy and drives technological innovation.

It’s also an ideal example to trot out for Learning Objective ‘D’ in Period 6 (1865-1898):

Explain the effects of technological advances in the development of the United States over time.

Finally, although not mentioned by name, Key Concept 6.1.I.b.i (yes, that’s a real thing) just begs for it:

Businesses made use of technological innovations and greater access to natural resources to dramatically increase the production of goods.

It all just screams “TALK ABOUT THE BESSEMER PROCESS!” Just make sure you connect all that innovation and production into the reform efforts and expanded government of the early twentieth century. Teachers love that stuff.

Bonus Points: How To Sound Like You Know More Than You Do

The Bessemer Process was burgeoning at roughly the same time that Alexander Graham Bell was taking innovations he’d originally hoped might assist the deaf or save wounded presidents and used them to invent the telephone (and the metal detector, and a better phonograph player, and some other weird stuff). Edison was improving the light bulb and inventing pretty much everything else with the help of his “invention factory” at Menlo Park. The Second Industrial revolution was transitioning from steam to electrical power, and the nation wasn’t far away from manned flight and the Model T automobile.

If you (or your teacher) lean a bit “GO AMERICA!” in your historical perspective, use the Bessemer Process as a demonstration of one of the many marvelous ways in which capitalism makes life better for everyone. Because steel was needed for so many commercial purposes, there was natural motivation to make it better, faster, and stronger than before. (If your instructor is ancient enough, you can drop in a Six Million Dollar Man reference here.) Industrialization brought the common American citizen more safety, more convenience, and more cool toys, and steel was the reliable, free-market foundation for it all.

If you prefer a more High School Musical “We’re All In This Together” approach, you can use Bessemer as an example of how no one person is responsible for progress. Maybe Bessemer and/or Kelly discovered the basics of the process, but they didn’t invent steel. They were improving on something already being done. Their innovation in turn required tinkering and experimentation from others, including by most accounts a Swedish ironmaster named Goran Goransson, who redesigned the furnace used to actually, um… Bessemize stuff, thus making it reliable and effective enough to transition into mass production, etc., etc. Very few innovations or inventions are the result of a single individual acting in isolation, America is most productive when more people have a voice, grazing in the grass is a gas baby can you dig it, etc.

Now bring it in for a group hug and we’ll all go around and say something we find special about the person to our left.

Either way, don’t get too hung up on the process itself. It’s all about what it allowed, created, represented, etc. Cover it, then launch from it – don’t dig in on it. That could get boring.

The Interstate Commerce Act & The ICC (from “Have To” History)

June 4, 2021June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About… the Interstate Commerce Act & the Interstate Commerce Commission

Three Big Things:

1. After several states attempted to limit the power of railroads and grain storage facilities on behalf of farmers and other citizens, Congress passed the Interstate Commerce Act (1887). This established the Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC) to regulate railroads, including their shipping rates and route choices.

2. The ICC was the first federal regulatory agency; it’s “success” spawned hundreds of others in subsequent decades. When you hear people complain about “big government,” these are a big part of what they mean. At the same time, they remind us that economic systems are not natural rights; they’re practical mechanisms designed to serve the largest number of people in the most efficient ways possible – at least in theory.

3. Ideally, regulatory agencies attempt to balance the good of society and the general public with the rights of companies to make reasonable profits from providing useful goods and services. They oversee “public services” – things considered essential for most citizens but which don’t easily lend themselves to a competitive marketplace due to the infrastructure required or the necessary scale of the service.

Context

The second half of the nineteenth century was one of America’s greatest (and most controversial) eras of expansion. Rugged, individualistic homesteaders navigated bureaucracy and accepted government oversight to secure their own plots of government-sponsored land in the west, where the government was hard at work clearing out the local populace on their behalf. Railroads, arguably the most poignant symbol of progress in all of Americana, were bravely, capitalistically accepting massive government land grants in exchange for laying their tracks across the Great Plains and finally connecting one coast with another. Along the way they manipulated local townships into catering to their every fiscal whim, lest they destroy them by altering course and instead bestow their blessings on communities more willing to kiss their caboose.

For railroads, more miles of track, continued national expansion, and the vast quantities of crops farmers were shipping further and further from where they were grown meant increased profits and political influence. For farmers, on the other hand, more land, technological advances, and increased production meant lower prices, endless struggles, and increased debt just to stay in the game. Eventually, traditionally individualistic farmers began forming collectives – the Grange, the Farmers’ Alliance, etc. – and pressuring their state and local governments to balance the scales a bit. They weren’t looking for handouts, just some restraints on what they saw as unchecked corporate power and greed. It wasn’t long before other segments of society began adding their voices in support.

Regulating For The Public Good

In Munn v. Illinois (1877), the Supreme Court determined that it was perfectly constitutional for a state to regulate industries within its borders, including capping the amounts grain elevators and storage warehouses were allowed to charge for their services. As the Court explained,

When one becomes a member of society, he necessarily parts with some rights or privileges which, as an individual not affected by his relations to others, he might retain. “A body politic,” as aptly defined in the preamble of the Constitution of Massachusetts, “is a social compact by which the whole people covenants with each citizen, and each citizen with the whole people, that all shall be governed by certain laws for the common good.”
This does not confer power upon the whole people to control rights which are purely and exclusively private… but it does authorize the establishment of laws requiring each citizen to so conduct himself, and so use his own property, as not unnecessarily to injure another. This is the very essence of government.

In other words, capitalism is all very fine and well, and the individual’s (or even the corporation’s) right to property and profit is important – but only because this economic approach presumably serves a larger good. The U.S. doesn’t practice a form of free market economics because it’s holy and just to do so – it’s a pragmatic decision based on the perceived shortcomings of alternative economic systems in comparison. (To paraphrase Winston Churchill, “Capitalism is the worst economic system except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.”)

Munn marked as well as anything the birth of the idea that governments can and should regulate industries deemed essential to the general welfare. At the time, that primarily meant stuff related to farming and the distribution of crops, but it would eventually encompass any number of public “utilities” (electricity, water, gas, etc.) as well as some transportation systems, television and radio broadcasting, and even trash pickup.

Many would argue that as society and technology continue to evolve, the same sorts of regulation should apply to internet access, cell phone plans, and even health care and other medical services. While it’s usually pretty easy to find a new burger joint if the one you liked before starts skimping on fries or changes their menu, it’s harder to change gas companies. The local sewer service rarely competes for your business, and only a small percentage of American homeowners get to actually choose who provides their electricity – let alone at what rate. Anytime laissez-faire capitalism would result in an “essential” service being reserved for the elite few, government steps in and makes everyone play nice. Companies providing valuable services deserve to make a reasonable profit, but not at the cost of the larger social good – or so the reasoning goes.

In the late nineteenth century, however, it was primarily grain storage and railroad rates.

The Commerce Clause Wins Again

Not quite a decade after Munn, the Court revised its opinion while pretending it was simply picking up where it left off. Wabash, St. Louis and Pacific Railway Company v. Illinois (1886) clarified that while states had the right to regulate industries within their borders, that power didn’t extend beyond state lines. Just because a railroad route began in Chicago, that didn’t mean the Illinois legislature could dictate shipping rates or other policies as it choo-choo-ed through Iowa or Missouri. This was “interstate commerce” in the truest sense of the term, making it the exclusive province of Congress – whether they chose to act on it or not.

Congress finally took the hint and created the very first federal “regulatory agency” – the Interstate Commerce Commission – in 1887. The ICC was charged with overseeing railroads and shipping of all sorts, and set strict guidelines for how the railroads could do business. Rates had to be the same for short trips as for long, and for all customers, however much or little they shipped. Railroads couldn’t even offer special packages for “preferred destinations.”

The specific rules weren’t the important part, however. These were modified or eliminated as technology, transportation, and society evolved. The important thing was the idea that government could and should set limits on important industries for the good of society. In practice, this usually means federal government. It’s nearly impossible today to find a good or service functioning purely “intrastate.” States can sometimes add to regulations while the good or service is withing their purview, but not beyond.

Over the next century, hundreds of federal agencies would be created in the image of the ICC. While Congress still established guidelines and priorities, agency directors and bureaucrats were left with the detail work – writing the actual rules and at times even taking part in enforcement. When you hear people complain about the unending nightmare of red tape, small print, and regulatory burdens on pretty much everything, this is what they mean. The positive side is that the meat you bought at the store today is probably not rotten and your kids’ clothes probably won’t burst into flames anytime the sun is too bright. The negative side is that unchecked bureaucracy tends to grow like the demonic kudzu and has proven nearly impossible to restrain, let alone prune back. No one can even agree on how many federal regulatory agencies there are, let alone which ones are necessary or what at each of them is actually in charge of.

The ICC was dissolved in 1995 after most of its regulatory power had been reduced or stripped away. Its few remaining functions were transferred to yet another agency – the “Surface Transportation Board” (as opposed to all those other sorts of transportation) which operates under the “U.S. Department of Transportation.” The Secretary of Transportation, in turn, reports directly to the President.

How Do I Remember This? (And Why It Matters)

Much of American history can be viewed as an ongoing struggle between freedom and security – nationally, locally, legally, socially, and – as in this case – economically. Just like in school, too little freedom stifles innovation and productivity; too much freedom leads to chaos, abuse, and a breakdown of the system.

The Interstate Commerce Act and ICC were the federal government’s first major effort to restrict what big business could and couldn’t do in an effort to ensure the results served everyone, not just those already at the top of the economic ladder. The resulting arguments would sound surprisingly familiar nearly a century-and-a-half later. Is it better to let big business run free or rein it in from time to time? Is government better or worse than raw capitalism at meeting the needs of the people as a whole over time? Do the basic rights guaranteed to American citizens as individuals apply to corporations as well?

If the answer to any of these questions seems obvious or easy, you’re doing it wrong.

The ICC, while no longer with us, remains the granddaddy of all federal bureaucracy and regulation. From the “alphabet agencies” of the New Deal to the half-dozen different agencies which today dictate the minutia of salmon treatment, processing, costs, transportation, and preparation long before you squeeze lemon on it at your local chain restaurant – they can all be traced back to the Interstate Commerce Commission… for better or worse.

What You’re Most Likely To Be Asked

It’s unlikely you’ll be asked to recognize or analyze the language of the Interstate Commerce Act itself (it’s not that readable). Instead, make sure you understand its connection to pretty much everything else going on at the time. It’s also a nice precursor to discussing populism (the late 19th century version) or even the Progressive movements of the early 20th century. They were all about using government to balance the power of big business against the needs of the “common man.”

In APUSH, Period 6 (1865-1898) is packed with standards related to economic development and industrial growth. The rest mostly involve westward expansion and the farmers movement (“populism”). The ICC is about both, particularly in relation to one another. Knowing the basics will help you add relevant details for any prompt related to government regulation, important Supreme Court decisions of the nineteenth century, or early efforts by farmers to push back against big businesses. It should always be mentioned when speaking or writing about railroads in this period as well. It may not be the single most important thing from this half-century, but it connects to almost everything else happening at the time – and that makes it mighty useful for making yourself look knowledgeable. (KC-6.1.III, KC-6.3, KC-6.3.II, and others)

Utah’s Core Social Studies Standards pose a question many teachers love asking in some form:

How could industrial leaders be considered both “captains of industry” and “robber barons”? (U.S. II Strand I – Industrialization)

It’s a topic typically addressed while covering the Gilded Age (closer to the start of the twentieth century), but it’s a great chance to reference events associated with the creation of the ICC. Railroads were essential to American growth and progress, as were grain storage facilities, banks, and other “wicked witch” industries of the late nineteenth century. At the same time, they tended to exploit and discard anyone non-essential to their continued growth and power. It was capitalism at its most dichotomous (the whole point of the question).

If you’re not feeling that bold, chances are good you’ll be asked something along the lines of this substandard from Utah. Some variation of this is present in over half of all state social studies standards:

Students will assess how innovations in transportation, science, agriculture, manufacturing, technology, communication, and marketing transformed America in the 19th and early 20th centuries. (U.S. II Standard 1.1)

At the very least you should recognize the ICC as the first federal regulatory agency and railroads as the first federally regulated industry.

Bonus Points: How To Sound Like You Know More Than You Do

Congress’s authority to regulate interstate commerce is found in Article I, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution. As a practical matter, this means that Congress can regulate almost anything by tying it in some way to interstate commerce – a power confirmed by the Supreme Court a half-century before in one of those “must know” cases, Gibbons v. Ogden (1824). Combined with the “Necessary and Proper Clause” (also in Article I, Section 8; confirmed by McCulloch v. Maryland, 1819), Congress and its regulatory power became virtually unchallengeable. Throw in details like what’s covered above, then thoughtfully note that this same basic tension – big government vs. small, the Hamiltonian approach vs. the Jeffersonian approach, etc. – is still a fundamental source of conflict between the two major parties today. (You’ll have literally covered the entire range of American history in a single observation.)

If your teacher seems to lean a bit conservative (they gripe about “those people” or refer to the Civil War as “the war of Northern Aggression,” etc.), you might ingratiate yourself by referring to the current web of federal regulations (which started with the ICC) as “Kafkaesque.” Kafka was a novelist who specialized in the bizarre, especially when it involved protagonists overwhelmed by systems or powers beyond their understanding or control but forced to go along with them anyway. Remember the guy who wakes up as a giant cockroach one day and we never find out why? That was his. “Kafkaesque” is a nice literary touch and should tingle their little conservative hearts without actually committing you to any particular worldview.

Above all else, avoid taking easy positions on the “good” or “bad” of railroads, regulation, farmers’ demands, or even the ICC itself. Always reference specifics while nevertheless acknowledging the inherent complexity and the valid claims of both (or all) sides – freedom, competition, and capitalism on one side and a reasonable opportunity for individuals to succeed (or at least survive) on the other. That’s what makes it interesting – the lack of easy answers.

The XYZ Affair (from “Have To” History)

May 27, 2021June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About… the “XYZ Affair”

Three Big Things

1. France was mad because the U.S. was making nice with England, who France had only recently helped them break away from and who France hated most of the time anyway.

2. U.S. efforts to make nice with France led to serious drama when French representatives (code names “X,” “Y,” and “Z”) made demands the U.S. contingent found offensive.

3. The resulting kerfuffle led to a “Quasi-War” abroad and more pronounced divisions between political parties at home before being resolved by a new round of diplomacy and a new treaty. The dispute also prompted the Federalists to push through the infamous Alien and Sedition Acts (which didn’t turn out all that well).

Background

If you’ve seen Hamilton (or at least listened to the soundtrack), you might be surprised to learn that many of the characters and events portrayed were based on real people and events in American history. Seriously, there should have been a note on the program or something to that effect. It would have added a whole other dimension to the experience.

In any case, I refer you to one of the highlights of the second act, “Cabinet Battle #2”:

The issue on the table: France is on the verge of war with England. Now do we provide aid and troops to our French allies, or do we stay out of it? … Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir…

Jefferson, as you may recall, thought it was a complete no-brainer that the U.S. should jump in and assist France. French aid had tipped the balance in the Revolutionary War and their rhetoric was rooted in the same Enlightenment ideals that inspired the colonies to rebel in the first place. Hamilton thought getting involved was a horrible idea, particularly since the folk with whom they’d actually signed a treaty (the King and Queen) were dead at that point, beheaded by French revolutionaries. President Washington agreed with Hamilton, and in the very next number (“it must be nice… it must be nice… to have Washington on your side…”) the nation’s first two political parties were formed – right there on stage. It wasn’t the beginning of tensions over how the new nation should be run, but it certainly helped clarify and solidify the sides.

The Federalists (think Alexander Hamilton) were pushing for a strong central government and a more unified nation. Despite the recent Revolutionary War, Federalists still tended to see the world through English eyes. It was the Federalists who’d pushed for the Constitution (which replaced the much looser Articles of Confederation) and who relied on the “three branches” system to keep the government checked and balanced. If taken to the extreme, their approach to the Constitution was that anything it didn’t strictly prohibit was probably OK.

The Anti-Federalists, better known as the Democratic-Republicans (who didn’t officially include “Southern M*****-F******” as part of their title), were less enthused about strong central government. They worried that the young nation would fall back into the same patterns and problems they’d had under King George. Democratic-Republicans loved the revolutionary fervor of the French and believed that agriculture and local control were the keys to extending and strengthening the enlightened, independent nature of their new country. The Constitution gave government specific functions and powers, and anything beyond that was a leap into corruption and self-destruction. Historians often refer to this group as the “Jeffersonian Republicans” because, you know… Jefferson.

How to handle France wasn’t the ONLY issue dividing these emerging parties, but it was pretty high on the list.

Jay’s Treaty (1794)

Right after giving France their promise ring, however, Uncle Sam** slid right back into making goo-goo eyes with his ex, England. Washington and other Federalists were more pragmatic than they were idealistic; they had little interest in endless conflict with the world’s most powerful nation. They signed a treaty resolving several points of contention: the British agreed to pull out of the Northwest Territory and to leave American shipping alone (although that one didn’t exactly last) while the U.S. paid off some outstanding debts to British merchants. Both sides compromised a bit on shared boundaries. Perhaps most importantly, the treaty laid the groundwork for a positive trading relationship with England.

It’s amazing how many things can be worked out when there’s money to be made.

France saw this as a betrayal of all they’d thought they meant to the U.S., particularly after they’d sacrificed so much to help the young nation win its independence… from the very nation it was now making all cuddly with! France and England had been in recurring conflict since roughly the Neolithic Era, so Uncle Sam’s insistence that they were just friends (albeit with benefits) rang hollow. France began attacking American shipping, which hurt America’s feelings and kinda ruined how nice it was that England had finally stopped doing it.

In the middle of this madness, George Washington decided not to run for a third term in 1796. (“One last time… we’ll teach them how to say goodbye…”). The unenviable task of following the Father of the Nation into office fell to John Adams with Thomas Jefferson as VP, which was tricky since they were from different political parties – Adams was a Federalist, and Jefferson, well… was not.

The Adams Tightrope

President John Adams wanted to patch things up with France but without alienating England. He wasn’t the towering figure Washington had been and often made decisions based on how he thought things should work instead of how they did.

To be fair, Washington had struggled on this front as well. Before leaving office, he’d appointed Charles Pinckney as the U.S. “Minister to France.” It wasn’t a great match. Pinckney was a staunch Federalist from an essentially aristocratic background – the exact sort of person the French were gleefully beheading on a regular basis at the time. Adams hoped to do better.

He conferred with his VP, Jefferson, who suggested sending Madison – a Democratic-Republican with revolutionary street cred and who knew how to speak liberté, égalité, and fraternité. Instead, Adams chose the safer political path and selected more Federalists – the party who hated France to begin with and couldn’t relate to them at all. They arrived in Paris disgusted with the people, the politics, and the culture in general – not the ideal foundation for diplomacy. The French Foreign Minister, Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, originally refused to see them. Eventually he sent word through intermediaries that a meeting might be arranged if the Americans agreed in advance to pay off all claims made by American merchants against France, loan France a ton of money at rock-bottom interest rates, and offer Talleyrand a substantial bribe just to get things going.

In better dynamics, these might have served as a starting point for under-the-table negotiations. As things were, it merely offended and annoyed the American coterie. They wrote back to President Adams, who in turn informed Congress that things weren’t going well and that maybe they should start preparing for the possibility of war. Not wanting to stir things up more than they already were, or risk the safety of his representatives in France, Adams substituted letters – W, X, Y, and Z – for the names of the French go-betweens. The subsequent kerfuffle, then, could just as easily have become known as the ABC Affair, the WXYZ Conflict, or the Beta Epsilon Gamma Kappa Shenanigans. He also withheld numerous details of exactly what was going badly, informing them merely that the French were being uncooperative and things could get ugly.

Well… uglier.

Let Me Be Frank(ophile) With You

France had by this time closed its ports to ships from any nation not totally “Team France” and had granted permission to French vessels to capture and search any ship they suspected of carrying British goodies – which could be any of them. Congress nevertheless insisted on getting the full TMZ report before taking further action. It passed resolutions and called Adams all sorts of bad names (although that last part wasn’t exactly new). Eventually, Adams released the letters from his representatives in France, including the demands made by X, Y, and Z.

The Democratic-Republicans simply couldn’t believe anything negative about their revolutionary brethren across the ocean. Surely Adams was lying, or the emissaries had misunderstood, or – and this one was a crowd favorite – Talleyrand’s demands were a natural result of Adam’s push for a military buildup, despite those two things having occurred in the opposite order, many months apart. (No sense letting a little thing like objective reality interfere with a good political barrage.)

American outrage was about what one would expect for a generation still drunk on the patriotic fervor of its own revolution. “Millions for defense but not one cent for tribute!” cried the masses. War was never officially declared, but this “Quasi-War” was definitely a few shoves and swear words past being “at peace.”

À La Réflexion…

Talleyrand had by this point realized he’d miscalculated and things weren’t going the way he’d hoped. He began scrambling to reopen negotiations with the U.S. while navigating revolution at home which was becoming increasingly unpredictable and bloody. Napoleon was rapidly gaining power as well, and while he loved a good scrap as much as anyone, the General was more interested in using France’s claim on Louisiana Territory (which was technically owned by Spain at the time) to help finance war in Europe.

President Adams sent new representatives to France, thus averting a real war. They eventually reached a new agreement – the Convention of 1800. (It’s also called the Treaty of Mortefontaine, but seriously – who even wants to try saying that, let alone remembering it?)

Hostilities ceased. France gave back America’s boats and the U.S. agreed to reimburse owners for any losses incurred as a result. Perhaps most importantly, France and the U.S. agreed to be trading besties again, although the U.S. was not required to quit seeing England in order to do so. This was to be something of an “open partnership.” As long as the brides didn’t have to share a bed or anything, they’d ignore one another and make it work.

Why It Matters

Public backlash to the Federalist handling of the affair contributed to the election of Thomas Jefferson, which in turn led to the Louisiana Purchase, the establishment of the U.S. Military Academy, and the end of the (legal) slave trade in the U.S. While it’s likely most of this would have occurred with or without Jefferson in the White House, the specifics likely would have unfolded quite differently, and it’s impossible to say what THAT might have looked like.

The XYZ Affair was the first major foreign policy dilemma faced by the young United States. It presented a question they’d be faced with many times over the coming centuries – when is it better to fight on principle and when does it make more sense to compromise in order to keep things running smoothly and peacefully The treaties with England and France helped the young nation continue building its economy, which over time became a major source of strength and influence (and remains so today).

Perhaps most importantly, repeated clashes over which foreign powers to support (and to what extent) led to the passage of the infamous Alien and Sedition Acts. These you should already know about because (a) they’re relatively easy to understand and remember and (b) they don’t even sound boring. If anything, the moniker oversells them a bit.

How To Remember This

The most important things about the XYZ Affair weren’t really the details of the situation itself but what it revealed about the U.S. at the time and its impact on the nation going forward. It highlighted some of the key differences between the two major political parties (despite many of the Founding Fathers going to great lengths to avoid parties existing to begin with) as well as the growing strength and influence of the U.S. in world affairs. It led to the Quasi-War, the Alien and Sedition Acts, and renewed peace with France (without sacrificing peace with England). The U.S. slung enough testosterone to demonstrate it wished to be treated like one of the big kids while going to great lengths to avoid actual war.

The jilted lover analogy hinted at above isn’t without its problems, but it’s tawdry and inappropriate – just like France and their Democratic-Republican mistresses. Anyone horrified by the comparison is probably a British sympathizer just like the Federalists with all their rules and order and financial security. The Jeffersonians, on the other hand, were all about freedom and slogans and running naked through arable fields of enlightened rule.

What You’re Likely To Be Asked

This one lends itself readily to either multiple choice questions (with “The XYZ Affair” as the correct answer) or prompts asking about challenges confronting the young nation, particularly in reference to foreign affairs. It also comes up regularly in questions about early political parties, often as an example of issues over which they disagreed.

The Texas eighth grade TEKS include this:

(5) History. The student understands the challenges confronted by the government and its leaders in the early years of the republic and the Age of Jackson. The student is expected to… (C) explain the origin and development of American political parties… (E) identify the foreign policies of presidents Washington through Monroe…

Most other state standards include similar rhetoric – political parties, foreign policy, economic stability, etc.

APUSH, too, loves it some XYZ Affair. One of the primary themes – “American in the World (WOR)” seems tailor-made for discussing this event:

Diplomatic, economic, cultural, and military interactions between empires, nations, and peoples shape the development of America and America’s increasingly important role in the world.

Learning Objective ‘L’ is equally applicable:

Explain how and why political ideas, institutions, and party systems developed and changed in the new republic.

Numerous content standards connect in some way, two quite directly:

War between France and Britain resulting from the French Revolution presented challenges to the United States over issues of free trade and foreign policy and fostered political disagreement. (KC-3.3.II.B)
Political leaders in the 1790s took a variety of positions on issues such as the relationship between the national government and the states, economic policy, foreign policy, and the balance between liberty and order. This led to the formation of political parties – most significantly the Federalists, led by Alexander Hamilton, and the Democratic-Republican Party, led by Thomas Jefferson and James Madison. (KC-3.2.III.B)

How To Sound Like You Know More Than You Do

If you can keep track of 80% of the details and interwoven issues involved in the XYZ Affair, you don’t have to shoot any higher. It’s legitimately a tough topic to keep straight and knowing your basics is as impressive as you need to get.

~~~~~~~~

**The term “Uncle Sam” didn’t come along for a few more years, but you know exactly who I mean. Don’t be difficult.

Barbed Wire (from “Have To” History)

May 9, 2021June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About… Barbed Wire

Three Big Things:

1. Barbed wire became the fencing of choice in the west after the Civil War. It was relatively cheap, withstood a wide range of conditions, and held back the biggest, most stubborn livestock.

2. Barbed wire favored homesteaders moving west, who tended to be small farmers. It threatened, and eventually helped destroy, the mythical “open range” and cowboy culture.

3. Barbed wire is rarely asked about specifically in history standards; it’s central to a wide variety of stuff that is, however.

Introduction

There are barbed wire museums in nearly a dozen different states. That’s right – museums devoted exclusively (or at least primarily) to the origins and impact of pokey wires in all its many varieties. The Oklahoma Cowboy Museum boasts over 8,000 varieties of prickly steel yarn, while the Devil’s Rope Museum in McLean, Texas, promises “everything you want to know about barbed wire and fencing tools.” There are several collections in and around DeKalb, Illinois, the birthplace of barbed wire, but it’s the Kansas Barbed Wire Museum which makes the grandest claims and boasts the most extensive curated exploration of this marvelous innovation.

It’s fencing. Made of wire. What’s the big deal?

Expansion, Technology, and Conflict

American history is largely a tale of expansion. Many of our best conflicts have resulted (at least in part) from our eternal need to expand and renovate. As “Schoolhouse Rock” waxed so rhapsodically:

Elbow room, elbow room, got to, got to get us some elbow room. It’s the west or bust; in God we trust – there’s a new land out there… There were plenty of fights to win land rights, but the West was meant to be; it was our Manifest Destiny!

Prior to the Civil War, westward expansion was at least somewhat limited by resistance from northeastern businessmen (who didn’t want their cheap immigrant labor to have other options) and southern plantation owners (who didn’t want competition from new farmers). During the Civil War, the southern states lost a great deal of influence, what with having “left the Union” and started a war and all. Lincoln’s Republicans were able to push through the famed Homestead Act of 1862. This wasn’t the first offering of its sort, but it was arguably the most important. Almost anyone could get a chunk of land out west at minimal cost as long as they were willing to go live on it and improve it. After the war, Americans once again upped their expansion mojo and the country began (or rather, resumed) sprawling westward.

In the meantime, demand for beef was rising. Soldiers insisted on eating from time to time and all that meat has to come from somewhere. After the war, a prosperous and victorious North wanted steak for dinner. Creative cross-breeding eventually produced a fairly hearty steer which was nevertheless edible – the Texas Longhorn. Railroads connecting the west to markets in the northeast didn’t quite reach Texas, so the age of the great cattle drives was born. Despite its eternal popularity in TV and movie westerns, the era of “git along little doggie” was really only about two decades long – from the 1850s to mid-1870s. By the 1910s… nothing.

The culture of cattle ranching required easy access to grazing and water. In both law and custom, cowboys could drive their herds pretty much anywhere they liked as long as they used a little basic courtesy. This wasn’t just “how they did things” – it was an entrenched ethical and legal reality on par with any other “natural right.” Life, liberty, and the open range were God-given and self-evident.

The settlers who began showing up to partake of all those nifty government land offers had slightly different unalienable truths lodged in their hearts and minds. They’d been marinated since birth in the sacramental wine of private property rights and the obligation of every good American to defend those rights, preferably against savages but against cowboys as well if necessary. It didn’t take long for these disparate American ideals to begin chafing against one another in the most unpleasant ways.

Going On The Fence-ive

Farmers knew in the core of their being that they had every right to their 160 acres, wherever it happened to be; ranchers knew in the core of theirs that limiting others’ access to water or grazing was both tyrannical and tacky. Farming homesteaders needed better fences.

This was problematic, given the realities of flora on the Great Plains. There’s a reason it’s not called the “Great Forest,” the “Big Ol’ Woods,” or “Trees-a-Palooza.” Even when settlers could find wood, it’s windy on the Plains. Also, it rains sometimes. Or snows. Pretty much every season was brutal on wooden fences in one way or another. Some tried rocks, but the difficulty with that system is self-evident. Others build boundaries out of the same sod they used for their homes – but again with the rain. Plus, the creatures fences were primarily intended to keep out weren’t particularly intimidated by wooden posts or boards. Humans could kick them down or pull them up. Cattle just knocked them over and went about their business.

Barbed wire changed all of that. There are competing accounts of its origins, but the first versions were patented in 1867 and being mass produced less than a decade later. There were dozens (and eventually hundreds, then thousands) of varieties, but most came down to thin, sturdy steel wire with intermittent “barbs” – ridges, spikes, or other pointy metal shapes – firmly embedded along the wire. Barbed wire was relatively inexpensive and easy to put up. Wind had zero impact on the thin steel wires; rain and snow had even less. Animals, on the other hand, quickly learned not to test this new devil’s rope. The barbs were painful enough to discourage pushing through or knocking over this new anathema, but unlikely to do real damage to most livestock.

This nasty little innovation shifted the balance of power in the west considerably. Pretty much anyone could easily stake out and claim any section of land they wished, whether they legally owned it or not. Sure, you could sneak in and cut the wires, but unlike wooden fences they could be repaired and replaced just as quickly. You could try to go over, under, or through, but the wire itself discouraged this by its very nature. Barbed wire wasn’t the only reason homesteaders and private property took over the west, but it was arguably the deciding factor. As to cattle drives, yes, the railroads finally reached Texas. There were also a few brutal winters in the 1880s which killed tons of livestock. While less dramatic, there’s no denying the impact of wave after wave of desperate settlers now armed with the ability to slice the frontier into private little homesteads defended by cheap, durable, pokey wire fence.

How Do I Remember This?

If you’ve endured any version of Oklahoma!, you probably remember the hootenanny in which the ensemble sings that “the farmer and the cowman should be frieeeends!” (If not, you can YouTube it right now. I’ll wait.) Imagine this particular number concluding with the “farmer” contingency busting out a large role of barbed wire (with wooden posts already attached every few feet) and wrapping up the cowmen en massse, who then remain cut off from the festivities until they die. (The rest of the ensemble, of course, continues singing “territory folks should stick together; territory folks should all be pals!”, seemingly oblivious to the plight of the filthy, outdated cowpokes rapidly losing both relevance and consciousness just off stage.)

What You’re Most Likely To Be Asked

It’s unlikely you’ll be asked about barbed wire specifically, or at least not in isolation. Typically it comes up in prompts or multiple choice questions asking about factors that led to or assisted with the settling if the West in the latter half of the 19th century. It goes nicely with “expanding railroads,” the aforementioned Homestead Act (1862), and all the usual “opportunity and fresh start” stuff. (If you’re doing short answers or essays, you should probably reference U.S. pacification (i.e., death or imprisonment) of the remaining native population as well.)

Indiana U.S. History Standards, for example, wants students to “examine the political, economic, social, and cultural development of the United States during the period from1870 to 1900” and “{a}nalyze the factors associated with the development of the West and how these factors affected the lives of those who settled there…”

Kansas is less specific, filtering their entire History, Government, and Social Studies curriculum through five rather provocative overarching standards instead. Number #5 proffers that “{r}elationships among people, places, ideas, and environments are dynamic. People, places, ideas, and environments experience change, activity, progress, or regression. All relationships are in a constant state of adjustment. These adjustments may also result in additional change, activity, progress, or regression… The interaction of a single relationship between individuals, communities, and/or their environment impacts to some degree all other relationships. Dynamic relationships involve circumstances which often create shifts in priorities, leading to tension and adjustments toward progress.” Honestly, it practically begs for a curriculum built around barbed wire.

APSUH wants students to be familiar with “{t}echnological advances, large-scale production methods, and the opening of new markets encouraged the rise of industrial capitalism in the United States” (KC-6.1). Obviously, this is primarily concerned with the Second Industrial Revolution, but that makes it all the cooler when you can work in something relevant from a bit further west to supplement the essentials. Besides, nestled under this is KC 6.2: “The migrations that accompanied industrialization transformed both urban and rural areas of the United States and caused dramatic social and cultural change… Larger numbers of migrants moved to the West in search of land and economic opportunity, frequently provoking competition and violent conflict.”

In short, barbed wire is an excellent specific detail to work into almost any short essay related to westward expansion after the war, particularly if the prompt involves the conflict between homesteaders and the Plains Indians or between homesteaders (largely farmers) and cattlemen. It’s also a powerful example of technology changing how and where people live, impacting the environment as well as the economy – literally reshaping everything else that was possible (or not) wherever it was utilized.

Bonus Points: How To Sound Like You Know More Than You Do

There’s no substitute for actual historical details and legitimate reasoning, but sometimes we want to dangle something a bit more profound out there and hope it catches the teacher’s imagination. The trick is not to push it further than you can back up with actual thought and substance – let them be thrilled at the potential you’re showing, not dismayed by your grandiose nonsense.

Barbed wire makes a wonderful metaphor for the clash between raw capitalism (as represented by private property – albeit ironically, given the level of government facilitation involved) and society as a collective body. This can be explored through the conflicts between (mostly) white settlers and the Native American populations they displaced OR via the dissonance between homesteaders (icons of the American Dream) and cowboys (equally powerful representations of American ideals). If you want to sound particularly thoughtful, acknowledge the inherent complexities in either conflict as suggested by the nature of the fence itself. Barbed wire need not be fatal. It discourages and antagonizes; it doesn’t dismember or destroy. Only when you run into it full speed – or insist on challenging it repeatedly – is it truly destructive. That kind of thing.

The other ripe, faux-profound approach is to discuss barbed wire as representative of the larger impact of many varieties of technological progress. You can resist the change, fight against it, etc., but just as the winds and rains pass right on through without obvious impact, technological change does what it’s going to do, with or without our cooperation. We can seize it and utilize it to our own ends or let it pass us by… but pushing back against it usually just leaves us cut up and wincing a bit from the results.

What’s In A Blaine?

February 13, 2021June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I’ve written about the Blaine Amendment before in the context of Oklahoma GOP shenanigans a few years back. This time around, I’m looking to go a bit ‘bigger picture’ and give it a brief chapter in “It Followed Her To School One Day,” which might actually be finished before summer. Below is the first draft of that chapter.

The final product will be tighter (this one’s too long) and less ranty-ravee about things.While I’m not going for detached and boring in the book, I will shoot for something a bit more balanced and accessible to the average reader. This is not an ethical decision so much as capitalistic lust. I mean, let’s be honest – conservative dollars spend the same as liberal dollars, and they have WAY more of them, so no sense alientating them right out of the gate. Keep it subtle, so they can be offended and horrified after it’s too late to return it.

Here with you, however, my Eleven Faithful Followers, I can share my unfiltered wisdom with spices and color intact.

What’s In A Blaine?

While it was not always mentioned by name, several major decisions of the Court in the early 21st century very much involved the history and potential future of the “Blaine Amendment.” Blaine is a general label applied to various provisions in 37 different state constitutions limiting or prohibiting the use of state funds to support religious organizations or sectarian activity. The precise wording and application vary from state to state, and 13 states don’t have one at all. Most Blaine Amendments are actually sections or clauses in their respective state constitutions and not “amendments” at all, but the term has proven persistent. Plus, it’s used in the singular (collectively) or plural more or less interchangeably – so that’s kinda fun.

The term dates back to Representative James Blaine of Maine, who pushed for a national amendment along those lines during the presidency of Ulysses S. Grant. The movement failed at the federal level, but the idea was picked up by numerous states in subsequent years – some voluntarily, and some as a requirement for entering the Union as the nation continued to expand. While innocuous enough as written, these various Blaine Amendments have something of a rocky historical past. “Non-sectarian” in the 19th century was often used euphemistically to promote anti-Catholic bias. (If Protestant was normal and proper, then “sectarian” was by implication any deviation from that – with emphasis on “deviant.”)

To be fair, it wasn’t just Catholics who were suspect. Your average 19th century WASP didn’t think much of anyone or anything not brazenly Protestant, at least in form and rhetoric. Catholics, however, were a particularly prominent and successful example of dangerous foreign influences and cultish ideologies trying to strip “real Americans” of their only-recently-established eternal birthrights to the continent. They were in many ways the Muslims of their era – technically entitled to their beliefs, and most wanting the same basic things for their homes and families as everyone else, but still viewed with suspicion because obviously their religion meant their loyalties must truly lay elsewhere, far across the globe in places most Americans still can’t locate on maps. (Nor should they have to, given that anything not in America is by definition un-American and besides-who-prays-to-dead-people-that’s-so-weird-am-I-right?!?)

Needless to say, American Catholics were relieved when a generation or two later the nation realized the true enemies of freedom were immigrants, labor unions, and women who wanted to vote.

In any case, there’s history suggesting that these Blaine Amendments weren’t always so much about keeping schools secular as keeping them vaguely Protestant. Variations on the idea date back to the anti-immigrant, anti-Catholic Know-Nothing Party of the 1840s and 1850s.

Make America Know-Nothing Again

The Know-Nothings, who actually called themselves “The American Party,” were the MAGA of their day – slogan driven, easily triggered, and fiercely patriotic (as long as the nation they perpetually celebrated prioritized those who looked and thought as they did). They didn’t have a “dark web” or the chance to go giddy over secret Q-Anon symbols encoded in the evening news, but they did their best to be melodramatic nonetheless. When asked about their political druthers or anything related to the party itself, members were expected to go full Sgt. Schultz and claim to “know nothing” – hence the nickname.

The true irony of this self-inflicted moniker was, of course, entirely lost on them.

The Know-Nothings as a political party vanished after the Civil War, but their toxic sentiments, like the smell of desperation and last night’s cigarettes, proved difficult to wash out of Uncle Sam’s sparkly coat. One of these sentiments was the desire to “protect” public schools (relatively new entities, even in the late 19th century) from pagans, atheists, “Muhammadans,” and of course, Catholics.

There was no federal Department of Education at the time, and state-level governments weren’t always overly concerned with how local districts were run. It wasn’t unusual for students to be required to read from the King James Bible, sing hymns, or pray, and teachers often taught through the lens of Protestant doctrine. Not surprisingly, Catholic Americans didn’t love paying taxes to support public schools that openly reviled their faith and forced their children to perform Protestant rituals. Some began pushing for equitable state support for Catholic-flavored schools as well – an idea Protestants found horrifying. What a vile betrayal of our freedom of religion! The First Amendment was supposed to build a wall protecting us from stuff like this!

Thus, the Blaine Amendments – at least in some cases. In others, history suggests a genuine effort to balance the roles of church and state to the benefit of society as a whole. That’s the trick with politics and history. People (especially politicians) claim all sorts of motivations for things, both good and bad, and there are often a combination of sentiments and goals all mushed together in any slice of legislation or political rhetoric. Sometimes later generations can tease out the underlying motivations with confidence (the Eleventh Amendment, the Oklahoma Land Run); other times historians are left to grapple with conflicting information and informed speculation in their efforts to address hows and whys (the Salem Witchcraft Trials, the endurance of “Deadliest Catch”).

A century and some change later, most Americans’ opinions of the Blaine Amendment have little to do with its origins and more to do with their personal religious druthers and the extent to which they feel persecuted and downtrodden by the presence of other belief systems in the society around them. Nevertheless, the origins of these state provisions have become a primary focus of those wishing to overturn it. The argument is that these Blaine Amendments are expressions of religious bias and discrimination, something Protestants in this country have generally favored but must now modify based on shifting dynamics and a shared cause – “the enemy of my enemy is still a heretic, but whatever.”

Historical Motivations

The Supreme Court has not always been consistent when it comes to factoring in historical contexts. In its defense, as discussed above, it’s sometimes difficult to unravel the motivations or intentions behind legislation or specific constitutional verbiage. The Second Amendment, for example, was clearly written with the assumption there would be no standing army in the United States and that local militias were thus essential to “provide for the common defense.” The amendment has nevertheless entrenched itself in the American psyche and longstanding jurisprudence far beyond its original purpose. Whatever else might have been intended, it certainly never came anywhere close to “individuals should be allowed a reasonable variety of weapons for personal protection or hunting but nothing designed primarily to fight in wars like, say, a militia might use.” And yet, over time, the meaning has been allowed to evolve based on changing times. Lawyers and judges still shamelessly wrestle with each word and tortured comma as if they don’t know perfectly well what an incoherent mess it is. The text and practical application has become the priority; the history of the amendment is now merely a curiosity.

More recently, in 2018, the Supreme Court upheld then-President Trump’s “Muslim Ban” on travel from a half-dozen countries. Trump had promised a “Muslim Ban,” his agents fought for a “Muslim Ban,” and his supporters celebrated the proclamation of a “Muslim Ban” because it was about time we started banning those Muslims with a Muslim Ban that bans them darned Muslims! After backlash from the courts, however, the administration managed to tweak the language enough that it could conceivably be viewed by someone who’d missed all the kerfuffle as a valid national security measure that only coincidentally sorta looked a great deal like a Muslim Ban. (It probably helped that they crossed out the title “Muslim Ban” at the top and scribbled “Valid National Security Measure” in orange crayon.) It was this “Huh? A ‘Muslim Ban’? Who told you THAT?” version the Supreme Court chose to validate, treating the act’s obvious intent and recent history like mysteries lost to the ages and certainly of no relevance to this shiny new valid security measure before them.

Other times, however, the motivation behind a law or government action suddenly matters, at least to interested parties. In cases involving holiday displays, moments of silence, or public installments of the Ten Commandments, the Court generally weighs the context and history of the legislation or decision-making and considers intent along with the actual text or result. The infamous “Lemon Test” begins by examining the purpose of a governmental action. The updated “endorsement test” first expressed by Justice Sandra Day O’Connor asks what a reasonable observer would perceive as the intentions of the government in a given situation – again bringing backstory into the foreground. In short, sometimes the history matters. (That’s why politicians have become so adept at signaling supporters as to what they’re really trying to accomplish with a particular piece of legislation while coating their official rhetoric in slippery nonsense; they don’t want their own words and true goals to be used to overturn pet projects.)

Despite the obvious benefits of this approach, it can be tricky business. As Justice Rehnquist expressed in his dissent in Stone v. Graham (1980), when enough legislators and constituents support something they believe has legitimate value and meets constitutional guidelines, it’s presumptuous for any court to step in years later and impugn their motivations in order to invalidate their choice

In other words, if something’s unconstitutional in its text and application, that’s one thing, but if it’s only unconstitutional because the courts know what people in the past were really up to, well… that’s potentially a bit more complicated. Which brings us back to the Blaine Amendment. Amendments. Whatever.

The dominant majority of WASP Americans in the late-19th century were certainly distrustful of Catholics (and Jews, and Chinese, and Freedmen, and transcendentalists, and DC Comics movie adaptations, and GMOs, and immunizations, and… you get the idea). It’s not universally clear that Blaine Amendments were solely the product of this bias, and states retained substantial wiggle room when it came to spending state funds on state interests through the end of the 20th century– with or without Blaine in the discussion. It was substantially weakened, however, by Zelman v. Simmons-Harris (2002), a landmark voucher case in which the Court determined that vouchers could be used at religious schools whether the state wanted them to or not. It seemed to be holding its own in Locke v. Davey (2004), however, when the court decided that the state of Washington was not violating the Free Exercise Clause by excluding theology majors from a state scholarship program.

Room For Playgrounds In The Joints

Then, in 2017, a particularly conservative Court decided that the whole “wall of separation” thing was overblown. In Trinity Lutheran Church of Columbia, Inc. v. Comer (2017), the Court ruled that if the state was going to offer ANY public institutions financial support – in this case, new bouncy rubber “gravel” for their playgrounds – it had to include religious institutions in the mix no matter what the state constitution might say or the original program intend. Hence Trinity Lutheran, an overtly religious institution which proudly proclaimed that everything it did and every facility under its control was there to bring little children to Jesus, would receive the same check directly out of state funds as the public school playground down the street which was just there so kids had a safe place to play – or perhaps instead of it. Blaine was now clearly on life support but still taking up bed space.

In Espinoza v. Montana (2020), the Court danced about on Blaine’s grave and urinated on its tombstone – despite never quite declaring it dead. This was another “school choice” case in which the majority determined that states had no right to exclude religious schools with overtly religious missions from programs paid for with public tax dollars. While religious schools were “churches” for purposes of shielding them from most forms of government oversight, they were suddenly “schools” again when it was time for checks to go out, as long as some veneer of “parent choice” was involved in the mix. In Montana’s case, the mechanism was a “scholarship program” in which donors could contribute to “scholarship funds” in exchange for tax credits. The organizations running the “scholarships” would then award them to families to use at private schools of their choice.

Unlike in Zelman v. Simmons-Harris, there was little discussion in the Court’s opinion regarding mechanisms for ensuring funds were equitable – that is, that they actually covered most of the cost of tuition at the private school where they were applied, making it possible for families of limited means to participate alongside those for whom the “scholarship” was simply a nice bonus. The Court expressed little concern with whether or not the institutions in question were focused on providing a quality education across the curriculum or simply promoting their own religious dogma, suggesting that it wasn’t really their place to distinguish between schools that happened to be religious and religious institutions that happened to call themselves schools. The roundabout “scholarships” and “tax credits” system was sufficient to eliminate the need for state oversight of such things in the name of the Establishment Clause, while the Free Exercise Clause meant any effort to limit the use of public funds based on religious status was outright verboten.

The state could either indirectly support everyone who wanted to play, whatever the actual results or applications of the funds, or cancel the program altogether.

And yes, this time the Court called out Blaine by name as it yanked out the IV and held the pillow over its face. It stopped short of declaring Blaine irrevocably deceased, but… let’s just say things aren’t looking too good overall for the whole “church-state separation” thing. Whether that’s a positive or a negative depends on how much you actually paid attention in history class.

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