The conundrum of defending Calhoun

Recently, the Yale Corporation made a step towards reconciling its racist past with efforts towards building a more inclusive university community. It would be inaccurate to describe Yale’s efforts as “succumbing” to student protests, as my fellow columnist Liam O’Connor argues. Both protesters and advocates have used their freedoms of speech and protest in effective and persuasive ways. As a strong advocate for personal and civil liberties, John C. Calhoun himself perhaps would have supported such use of freedom of speech (but only for white, landowning men).

Calhoun was a racist, slave-holding reactionary who not only failed to see slavery for the economic hindrance that it was, but also held views arguably more racist than his contemporaries (unlike others who argued problematically that slavery was a “necessary evil,” Calhoun argued that it was a “positive good”). In addition to this, Calhoun’s positive “accomplishments” were almost always at the expense of African Americans and indigenous people. For example, his support for the annexation of Texas (which also reified white supremacy and American imperialism) as well as the opposition to the Compromise of 1850 are only a few of his efforts to maintain slavery for the benefit of rich, white men. Perhaps the only gracious thing he did was fail at an attempt for the presidency.

O’Connor argues that slavery was a way of life for men like Calhoun and that we, as members of modern society, should not judge him for his racist acts and opinions that ruined the lives of millions. In short, our “moral relativism” does not take into full account the context of men whom we judge, and therefore Yale and other institutions should honor men who would not have wanted certain students to even walk their halls.

First, several other columnists and I have made multiple arguments against attempts to defend men who do not live up to the “morals of the present.” It goes without saying that the era in which Calhoun lived was hyper-racist. Yet, to argue that “moral relativism” leads us to judge men like Calhoun too harshly ignores the moral system “coming into place” that our advanced society has decided upon. These include notions such as “slavery is wrong” or “genocide is wrong.” For example, it is a major faux pas to excuse the fascist destructive actions of Hitler as excusable because he was simply a product of his times. Millions of Jewish people died as a result of Hitler’s regime, just as millions of enslaved Africans were massacred and worked to death for more than 200 years because of the support of men like Calhoun. Most would agree that these numbers are egregious and that the actions causing these atrocities should never happen again. It should follow then, that men like Calhoun and Hitler should not be honored.

However, individuals like O’Connor defend men and women whose actions supported or empathized with the institution of slavery — usually for the sake of maintaining the status quo. Second, O’Connor argues that it is avarice, rather than white supremacy, that “perpetuated this institution in spite of conflicting moral arguments,” and that therefore we cannot dismiss Calhoun just on the basis that he is racist. What O’Connor misses is that the history of capitalism in the United States is indelibly tied to racist institutions like slavery. As Manning Marable writes in “How Capitalism Underdeveloped Black America,” “Each advance in white freedom was purchased by black enslavement; white affluence coexists with Black poverty ....” Richard D. Wolff continues Marable’s point, “racism persists in no small part because its benefits to capitalism outweigh its costs.” Therefore, the avarice that O’Connor notes cannot be separated from white supremacy; the greedy intent of men like Calhoun is no more honorable or worthy of forgiveness because such greed is tied to the racism that his opponents have mentioned.

Renaming of facilities such as Calhoun College has less to do with subpoenaing Calhoun from the grave and more to do with unlearning racist (as well as sexist, xenophobic, and homophobic) ideas. In this way, we can genuinely strive towards a more progressive society where the historically marginalized have equal rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Calhoun is one of many men and women whose legacies fail to embody such a vision, and unless institutions wish to honor his bigoted beliefs, renaming is in their best interests.

Calhoun College will be renamed for a Yale alumna, Grace Hopper, “who invented the first compiler for a computer programming language and posthumously received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2016.” She is only the second woman “to be honored as a residential college namesake.” While I am not arguing that simply renaming buildings will defeat white supremacy or absolve the United States and its precious institutions for their sins of racism, imperialism, and genocide, it is a step in the right direction. To uphold the names of racist figures and to defend their legacies does a great disservice to the marginalized who deserve to walk university halls without racist shadows looming over them. I congratulate the protesters who championed the renaming of the college and I hope that other institutions, including Princeton, will one day do the same.

Imani Thornton is a politics major from Matteson, Ill. She can be contacted at it4@princeton.edu.