In thinking about the post-modernism of the New Right, consider the Washington State football coach who sent out on social media an altered video of an Obama speech. Many quickly pointed out that the speech as presented never occurred. The coach responded again and again with the challenge, “Prove it.” While this response may seem to indicate a belief that things can be true or false, the speaker took the stance that even though he was asserting something, it was not his responsibility to assure its truth. By commanding others to prove that his assertion was false, he was saying what he said should stand until then. In other words, he had no responsibility for the truth of his assertions. Instead, others did.  But then the coach shifted his responses and asked, “What is a fact?” Of course, if he does not know what a fact is, then he will never accept that his assertion has been disproved. His proposition should live on until disproved, he indicated, but at the same time, he will not necessarily accept the disproof. This intellectually dishonest position abandons all responsibility for the truth.

Conservatives have another twist on postmodernism: multiple versions of the truth. There is truth and there are facts, but they rapidly change. The President makes assertions and relays information, but often he gives us conflicting facts and assertions within days or even hours. Truth may not be subjective, but it is changeable. (His assertions of shifting truths and facts have led to cries that the President lies. In a previous post, I discussed On Bullshit by Harry G. Frankfort and concluded that “liar” is not the correct term for Trump; “bullshitter” is. A liar is concerned about the truth; a bullshitter is not. It is fair to say that the President does not feel a responsibility for the truth of his pronouncements.)

That is dangerous enough, but the danger increases when others also don’t take a responsibility for facts and truth. Consider the ongoing disputes about the separation of families at the border. The Attorney General announces that the family separations are part of a policy to deter illegal immigration. Others later say that this is not a policy choice; instead, the law (adopted by Democrats) requires it. What is the true reason? The second speaker gave no indication of having talked with the AG to inquire about his earlier-asserted motives for the family separations. A person, of course, who felt responsible for speaking the truth would have done that.

Both the old leftist postmodernists and present conservatives are alike in absolving themselves of the responsibility of the often hard job of finding facts, of ascertaining the truth. It is enough to say that it could be true, it might be true, it has not been disproved to my personal satisfaction. The old leftists and the present conservatives are united in agreeing that they do not have to abide by the standards of good historical, scientific, sociological, anthropological inquiry. They don’t have to grapple with the strengths and weaknesses of sets of data. Well, yes. Life is a lot easier without that hard work. Others can foolishly spend their time looking for facts and truth, but we don’t need to. The truth is what we want it to be. And this prevents them from having to change their views. They never have to confront what T.H. Huxley said about science: “The great tragedy of science—the slaying of a beautiful hypothesis by an ugly fact.” Leisure increases and life is simpler without a responsibility for discerning or establishing facts.

On the other hand, the present conservatives separate themselves from the old leftists; at least they don’t try to justify their irresponsibility about facts by referring to incomprehensible writers. I thank them for that.

Many of my work colleagues through the years could have been described as leftist in their political and philosophical bent. Some of them were proudly of the post-modernist variety who spouted the clichés that there was no objective reality; that truth and morality were only “contingent.” Truth varied depending upon your viewpoint. This meant not just that all opinions should be considered and analyzed, but that all opinions must be respected, which soon morphed into the idea that all opinions were of equal validity. If something were true for you, then it was true. Facts were always subjective. There was no objective truth.

Sometimes a fraternity-style lingo was involved. I would hear terms like “reification,” “ramification,” or “hermeneutics.” To me these were quintessentially postmodernist terms. I would ask what they meant, and I would get different responses. I learned that they meant whatever the utterer meant them to mean, which did not have to mean what another utterer meant. They seemed to have no objective definition. But they sounded impressive, and since they seemed to be without a fixed meaning, when I heard them I began to believe that their presence often hid the absence of an idea.

Philosophers were invoked, often French ones. I felt that my knowledge was incomplete so I tried studying Messrs. Foucalt and Derrida. I would read a paragraph but could not make sense of it. I would read it again. I would read it a third time, but meaning would not emerge. Perhaps I was not as bright as my colleagues who discussed this philosophy, but I doubted that, and I began to doubt those who claimed to understand so much of this philosophy. Emperors and new clothes came to mind. I saw terrible writers or thinkers whose thought was so unclear that they could not clearly express what they meant. I am of the school that if the writing is opaque, the thinking is too. But the books seemed definitely postmodernist. Their truths were “contingent.” Each reader read individual meanings into the words.

Back in the day, it was anti-conservatives who claimed truth was indeterminate and subjective, and right-wingers railed against those who could not tell right from wrong or could not tell there was a recognizable, firm truth.

We have had a switch. Now “conservatives” say something similar to what leftists said before. Rudy Giuliani, for example, has recently stated that truth is relative. Other conservatives talk about “alternative facts.” Conservatives deny evidence about climate change suggesting that science, too, is relative–that it is only political. Conservatives seem to have adopted postmodernism, but they have gone beyond it.

(Concluded on July 11)

José Antonio Rey Maria had no intention of making history when he rowed out into the Atlantic from the coast of Andalusia in southwest Spain on April 30, 1943.” Ben Macintyre, Operation Mincemeat: How a Dead Man and a Bizarre Plan Fooled the Nazis and Assured an Allied Victory.

“The case comes in, or anyway it comes to us, on a frozen dawn in the kind of closed-down January that makes you think the sun’s never going to drag itself back above the horizon.” Tana French, The Trespasser.

“I shall never forget the one-fourth serious and three-fourths comical astonishment, with which on the morning of the third of January, eighteen hundred and forty-two, I opened the door of, and put my head into, a ‘stateroom’ on board the Britannia steampacket, twelve hundred tons burthen per register, bound for Halifax and Boston, and carrying Her Majesty’s mails.” Charles Dickens, American Notes.

“It was a pleasure to burn.” Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451.

“Through sixty-six separate books, 1,189 chapters, and hundreds of thousands of words, the Bible shares one extraordinary lesson: God loves you.” No listed author, Know Your Bible.

“Everyone in Shaker Heights was talking about it that summer: how Isabelle, the last of the Richardson children, had finally gone around the bend and burned the house down.” Celeste Ng, Little Fires Everywhere.

“I am always getting letters from people who want my job.”  Dave Barry, Dave Barry Talks Back.

“In the hospital of the orphanage—the boys’ division at St. Cloud’s, Maine—two nurses were in charge of naming the new babies and checking that their little penises were healing from the obligatory circumcision.” John Irving, The Cider House Rules.

“It all started when Constantine decided to move.” Fareed Zakaria, The Future of Freedom: Illiberal Democracy at Home and Abroad.

“Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife.” Ha Jin, Waiting.

“I struggle awake, and there she is. Russia.” David Greene, Midnight in Siberia: A Train Journey into the Heart of Russia.

No post today. Go  celebrate, or better yet or in addition, read the last post.

If you are like me, your Fourth of July rituals have changed through the years. When I was a mere tyke, I went to a parade on the main street of my Wisconsin birthplace. Representatives from a VFW post; floats decorated by kids from the day camps around town; a marching band or two. Lame and boring, I thought even then. (How often does a marching band actually play in tune? Not often, not ever while parading on Sheboygan’s Eighth Street.) Then a family reunion picnic at Aunt Maude’s where I might have to talk with the fearsome Aunt Beulah. The boredom increased. In the evening, fireworks over Lake Michigan—the only good part of the day.

As a young married, the spouse and I, many miles from our families, did not have any firm Fourth of July rituals. Sometimes we went to New York City’s fireworks–always magnificent. Sometimes, however, we were traveling on Independence Day, at least once in Italy where I watched Wimbledon on a TV in a store window, an activity that somehow made me feel homesick.

For decades now, I have been in a little summer community, Buck Hill Falls, with its own Fourth of July pageantry. A tiny parade followed by a program that almost never varies—a few songs; children reciting the names of the signers of the Declaration of Independence; a couple dressed as George and Martha (no one ever suggests that we have a couple dressed as Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings—I know, I know, Tom Jefferson was still married in 1776, but the thought of a Hemings impersonator at these events would be amusing. On the other hand, seeing “George” this year will make me think of the Reverend Parson Weems who created a George Washington who could never tell a lie. My thoughts turn to present president); sometimes a short speech by a community member, to which few pay close attention to even if they can hear it through the tinny speakers; the releasing of thirteen doves; and cookies and watermelons at the end. We then marvel at how Americana-ish we are. (I have some problems with the early morning routine. A rider on horseback goes through the community before a civilized wakeup time intoning, “The British are coming! The British are coming!” While this might be appropriate for Patriots’ Day, it is wrong for the Fourth. I don’t know where Paul Revere was on July 4, 1776, but he was not signing the Declaration, and he was not looking for lanterns to see whether if it was by land or sea. I have read my Longfellow and can even quote a bit.)

For a long time before the present rituals, however, I had my personal Fourth of July routine. The New York Times printed the entire Declaration on the first section’s back page, and I would read it. Even after dozens of readings, I would note the archaisms, but still admire the rhythm and the phrasing of the Declaration’s first section—“a decent respect to [not for] the opinions of mankind. . .”; “Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established. . . “let Facts be submitted to a candid world.”

If we even think of the Declaration today, we usually only contemplate these opening paragraphs, but I was also fascinated by the list of the elegantly-written grievances about the King and tried to remember, not always successfully, what specifics had occasioned the complaints. Some of my frustration at my lack of historical knowledge was relieved when, after many perusals of the Declaration, I read American Scripture: Making of the Declaration of Independence by Pauline Maier, who wrote “Today most Americans, including professional historians, would be hard put to identify exactly what prompted many of the accusations Jefferson hurled against the King, which is not surprising since even some well-informed persons of the eighteenth century were perplexed.” (Even so, I find it ironic today that the indictments included the assertions that the Crown had impeded immigration to our shores and prevented free trade. The list also includes some . . . shall we say . . . overstatements of fact. My own research for academic projects mirrors Maier’s conclusion: “Even the most assiduous efforts have, however, identified no colonists of the revolutionaries’ generation who were actually transported ‘beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses.’”)

Even so, each reading led me to the conclusion that Jefferson was a genius in his language. This, too, has been tempered as I have learned that the Declaration was preceded by ninety or so state and local Declarations whose phrasings often were echoed in the Fourth of July Declaration and that Jefferson’s draft was frequently improved by the editing done by Congress. But still, Jefferson produced the draft that in its final form still lives. Or at least it lives, if we, not just a few oddballs and academics, continue to read and appreciate it. Yes, decorate the coaster wagons and golf carts with crepe paper, play John Philips Sousa, listen to platitudes about our freedom, watch the jets fly over, have a family softball game, eat ice cream and watermelon, and watch the fireworks, but at least once in a while also read the document that is the cause for all the celebration.

In addition to his actions and achievements that helped chart the path for the new country, Thomas Jefferson is also famous for his concern about education. He saw education as one of his legacies since he insisted that his epitaph also include the founding of the University of Virginia. He cared greatly about education on a more personal level. He insisted that his two (white) daughters get an outstanding education at a time when many women got little schooling. And, of course, Jefferson was renowned for his learning, a fame that has persisted through the centuries. John F. Kennedy memorably said at a White House dinner honoring Nobel Prize winners, “I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered together at the White House, with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone. Someone once said that Thomas Jefferson was a gentleman of 32 who could calculate an eclipse, survey an estate, tie an artery, plan an edifice, try a cause, break a horse, and dance the minuet.”

Jefferson was a remarkable man. He did do great things that helped irrevocably shape the United States, but as I have learned more about him and have seen his house again, I can’t also help feel that he did not just serve mankind, but was also, at his core, selfish or self-indulgent. I could feel those undercurrents at Monticello.

I had known that Jefferson died in debt. He bought books and wines when he could not afford them, but his continual construction and reconstruction of Monticello was a chief cause of his indebtedness. Near the end of his life, he voiced concern about how his financial straits would affect others, but if he thought about this earlier, it did not affect his profligacy, and shortly after his death, because of his wanton spending, Monticello and his slaves had to be sold. Jefferson during his life tried not to break up slave families and even bought some slaves to reunite husbands and wives, but his debts at his death made sure that slaves would have to be sold and families ripped apart.

Jefferson’s home, upon which he spent so much time and money, is intriguing. It reveals his fascination with gadgets—the indoor-outdoor clock with its weights hanging through the floor, the machine to copy letters, the dumb waiter to bring up wine. But the home does not have a gracious, welcoming feel. Instead, it is a bachelor’s house primarily designed to feed the whims of one person. It does not show much concern for others who lived, worked, or visited the house. It seems self-indulgent. For me, the symbols of this were the staircases.

Jefferson’s study and bedroom were on the first floor. There seems to have been little reason for him to go to the upper stories. Jefferson thought that the grand staircases he had seen in Europe were a waste of space and did not design one for Monticello. Understandable. Instead, he had built two staircases in the house, but these are not the ordinary stairs that we are used to. Instead, they are both very narrow with a number of turns. They had to be hard to traverse. They would be especially difficult carrying a baby or a tray or anything at all. Women in those days wore long skirts, and surely the women whose rooms were on the upper floors had to be extremely careful in ascending and descending. I was not surprised when I learned that one of Jefferson’s adult daughters took a serious fall on the stairs. A house without a grand staircase can still have stairs that are convenient using only a little more space than these do, but not at Monticello. I wondered whether the stairs would have been different if Jefferson had had to use them regularly or if he was truly concerned about those who would use them.

The stairs, however, allow a bit more space on the floor that Jefferson inhabited. They suited Jefferson even if they inconvenienced, or were dangerous to, others. Somehow to me that was a metaphor for part of Jefferson’s personality.

On the other hand, I do have to have an abiding fondness for Thomas Jefferson if he said what is ascribed to him on a mug I bought at Monticello: “Coffee, the favorite drink of the civilized world.”

I most liked James Madison’s Montpelier of the presidential homes we visited in Virginia. By that I mean it is the one I would favor living in, if such a thing were possible. It has the best proportions, both inside and out, and it has sweeping views over undulating fields to the Blue Ridge Mountains. The DuPont family certainly liked the house, too. They bought it at the beginning of the twentieth century and deeded it to the National Trust for Historic Preservation in the 1980s. They added on to it during those years, but the additions fit well with what was already there, and no doubt the Madisons, if they had had DuPont money and still owned the home, would have remodeled the house during the years, as they did while they lived there.

The first portion of the structure was built by Madison’s father in 1764. Madison added to the house shortly before 1800, and then further enlarged it a decade later.

It was hard for me to picture what the fields were like back then. The thousands of acres and gardens were a working plantation. Now the fields seem dedicated to horse racing, and that is a legacy of the DuPonts. Apparently, annually in the fall steeplechase races are still held at Montpelier, drawing large crowds.

The most distinctive and most famous of the homes, with its dome and gadgets, is Monticello, but something about it made me uncomfortable. Monticello is seen, more than the other houses, as a personal statement by its creator, and while Jefferson was truly remarkable, something about him is off-putting and that carried over for me to his house.

My discomfort does not come from what can be seen as his hypocrisy about slavery or his relationship with Sally Hemings. Through our present-day lens, all those first Virginia Presidents were hypocritical about slavery. And this discomfort does not come because Jefferson did not do important, even great, things.

Perhaps we do overrate the Declaration of Independence. We esteem that document, but, of course, the truly important event was that the Second Continental Congress declared independence from Great Britain. No matter what was written on that parchment, we would have headed towards a new country because of how the delegates voted. But rhetoric can matter, and the Declaration drafted by Jefferson has rung in our ears through the centuries often prodding this country towards its better self. Perhaps the Declaration’s importance is best symbolized by the fact that we celebrate Independence Day on July 4, when the Declaration was adopted, not on July 2 when the Continental Congress voted for independence.

I am one who loves the Declaration of Independence. I have had the ritual, now sometimes lapsed, of reading that document on the Fourth of July.  I love the phrases and the rhythms. I think English students should not just study the poets and novelists, but also the Declaration, as well as Lincoln’s words, for a better understanding of the power and beauty of our language.

The first part of the Declaration of Independence contains the soaring phrases that are familiar. The second part contains specific complaints that were given as the reasons for the separation from Great Britain. They are less read or remembered than the opening paragraphs, but they are still worth contemplating. The King, the Declaration maintained “has endeavoured to prevent the Population of these States; for that Purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their Migrations hither. . . .” In other words, one of the reasons for a revolt was restrictions on immigration. Another complaint was that the King impeded international trade: “For cutting off our Trade with all Parts of the World.”

Jefferson can be praised not just for the Declaration but also for advancing individual rights that form part of the foundation of this country. His most famous effort in this regard may be his drafting of the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom, which was introduced into the Virginia General Assembly in 1779 when Jefferson was governor. It was enacted in 1786 shepherded by James Madison. The Statute disestablished the Church of England in Virginia and guaranteed freedom of religion to all faiths. This legislation was an important forerunner of both the Establishment and Free Exercise Clauses of the First Amendment in our Bill of Rights. Jefferson saw the Statute for Religious Freedom as so important that it was one of only three accomplishments that he wanted as an epitaph.

Jefferson was also a leader in preventing the formation of a formal aristocracy in our country by working after the Revolution to remove primogeniture laws, where estates had to be passed on to the firstborn son. We seem to take for granted today the absence of the laws that made for a landed aristocracy in England and other European countries, but repealing the laws was a radical shift away from English law that helped make the United States a more egalitarian society.

Jefferson also molded the country we now have through the Louisiana Purchase. This doubled United States land and gave us what is now the central part of our nation. Can you imagine the United States without all the Dakotas, Oklahoma, Nebraska, Arkansas, Iowa, Kansas, and more. (Ok, I can imagine the United States without Kansas.) What if those 826,000 square miles had stayed under French control? Or what if that land had later been sold to Britain or Spain? The country we know would simply not exist.

The Louisiana Purchase also irrevocably changed our constitutional path. The Constitution supposedly set forth a government that was limited to enumerated powers, and nothing in our fundamental charter gave the president the authority to make such a purchase. Even so, Jefferson who had been a voice for states’ rights and limited federal power, (yes, again, as with slavery, we can see Jefferson as a hypocrite) bought the land, and it stayed bought, which brought us to the path of ever-increasing executive power. (Today we don’t even seem to wonder how the president has the authority to impose tariffs or sanctions on Iran, even though such powers are not in Article II of the Constitution.) The Louisiana Purchase could be the most important presidential action taken in our country’s first generation.

(Concluded on June 29.)

The Parkland school kids who have talked so eloquently about the firsthand effects of gun violence were called “child actors” by conservatives. A Fox News contributor has labeled as “actors” the children convincingly crying and screaming at the border as their mothers are led away. I wish Fox News would report on the acting academy that turns out so many excellent young actors. It would be a service to the many stage mothers of our country.

I have friends who believe that the President as the chief executive has the constitutional power to direct criminal investigations however he wishes and end them whenever he wishes. In their view, he cannot criminally obstruct justice because he has the constitutional power to, well, obstruct justice. They maintain that the only check on this power is impeachment. But the Constitution states that a President can only be impeached for high crimes and misdemeanors. If the President is only exercising his valid constitutional power in ending an investigation for any reason, even to protect himself or others, then the President would not be committing a high crime or misdemeanor, and Congress should not impeach him for that reason. If Congress removes a President for the commission of a constitutionally valid executive act, hasn’t Congress placed itself above and subverted the Constitution?

“Make America Great Again.” I remember in my youth that the suggestion that the United States was not all that it could be or had been was met with the reply, “Love it or leave it.”

One Sunday FBI agents rang my door bell and asked if a certain young woman was a tenant in my building. I said yes, and in reply to another question told them that she was gone for the weekend. They asked if I would let them into her apartment, which would have been illegal on my part, and I declined. But I gave information to the FBI; I wonder if the President would classify me as a spy?

After yet another revelation about suspicious and hitherto secret contacts between those who surrounded President Trump during the 2016 campaign and Russians, commentators temper their remarks by saying that the revelation is not “evidence of” collusion. These talking heads don’t know the difference between “evidence of” collusion and “sufficient proof” of collusion. Seldom is one piece of evidence sufficient to prove a fact, but many pieces of evidence, each insufficient by itself, when assembled together can be convincing proof of a fact. A brick is not a wall. But put enough bricks together, and a wall is erected.

The cable news commentator stated that we must find a way to stop all the leaks coming out of the government. No one else on the panel challenged that assertion. Nevertheless, someone should ask “Why?” For a proper democracy with accountability, the default position should be governmental openness. There should only be secrets if there are strong justifications for them. Before the shibboleth is announced that leaks must stop, the commentators should consider how, if at all, the now-public information was justified as secret and what harm has come from the information’s exposure to the cleansing power of sunlight.

“You can take better care of your secrets than another can.” Ralph Waldo Emerson.

A news story about Jared and Ivanka’s recent financial disclosures said that ethics experts state that their continuing business dealings “could raise questions of possible conflicts of interest.” Isn’t this going overboard trying to be fair? Why all three words: “could,” “questions,” and “possible”? Shouldn’t the sentence just be “could raise conflicts of interest”? Or “raises questions of conflicts of interest”? Or “raises possible conflicts of interest”?

 Annette Gordon-Reed took a different approach from traditional Jeffersonian scholars in examining the Jefferson-Hemings controversy. Annette said, Let’s not just cast aside what the black oral history claims about Hemings and Jefferson but examine it. Gordon-Reed undertook a meticulous examination of all of the historical record. She researched like a lawyer, as Annette is, preparing for a trial. She found much that confirmed that black oral history and nothing that contradicted it. On the other hand, she found much that was inconsistent with the white descendants’ versions.

When I read the draft, I thought it was going to be a bombshell because, at least to me, it presented an overwhelming case that the traditional Jefferson scholars were biased in their examination of this issue. Statements by whites were accepted with little examination or analysis; comparable statements by blacks were pushed away with no examination or analysis. For me, the real bombshell in her manuscript was that while historians surely think they are being as objective as possible, the Jefferson scholars had not been. Instead, they appeared biased, and worst of all biased on racial grounds. I had little doubt that the mainstream historians would not take kindly to what Gordon-Reed had written.

She had made such a compelling case, I did not think that her book could be simply ignored. I then undertook to read the manuscript not for literary merit or as a copy editor (there was not much for comment on those lines since it was very well written), but as if I were a defense counsel. I offered comments along the lines of, “If I were defending the historians, here is what I would say, here is what facts I would check.” I felt that if the historians could find almost any contradiction or provably false assertion, they would simply dismiss what was an important book. In fact, I only had a few comments because Annette had been thinking along these lines and had already been doing this kind of research. She was gracious in accepting my comments as I am sure she was with other readers of the draft.

Shortly after Gordon-Reed’s book was published, a DNA study proved that white descendants’ contention that nephews of Jefferson fathered Hemings children was not true and provided more confirmation that Jefferson himself was the father. This biological evidence plus various historical records made it almost certain that Jefferson was the father of Sally Hemings’s children.

All this produced a sudden reversal from most traditional Jefferson scholars. Three years after Annette’s book, The Thomas Jefferson Foundation concluded that Jefferson in all likelihood was the father of Sally Hemings’s children as did the National Genealogical Society the next year. In a remarkable, perhaps unprecedented, flip-flop, most historians soon came to the same conclusion. Within a few years, the mainstream historical “truth” had been turned on its head. Annette, with her book, was the spearhead for a major change in historical thinking, a change that was amazing because it took only a few years.

Annette went on to other pastures, and I have not seen her for a while. I don’t know her feelings about the Black Lives Matter movement, but when it burst onto the scene, I thought back to her first book. In her own way and ahead of the curve, she was demonstrating black lives matter. She had taught that we should take the testimony of blacks seriously. Examine it; analyze it; look at the contradictions, the consistencies, the confirmations, the corroborations. Only after all of that, judge it. Take seriously what blacks say, Annette taught me. I might, you might, find out it is the truth.

Monticello has changed in the decades since the spouse and I first went there decades ago. The house and grounds may be much the same, but now the guides and the furnished information directly acknowledge the importance of slavery at Monticello. In that regard, it is much like Mount Vernon, which now also features the importance of slavery to George Washington’s life, as I discussed in a previous post. The Thomas Jefferson Foundation, which operates Monticello, now also accepts that a relationship between Jefferson and the enslaved Sally Hemings existed and that Jefferson in all likelihood was the father of her children.

Seeing the exhibits about slavery and the Hemings family made me think of Annette Gordon-Reed and how she reformed historical views of Jefferson and Hemings. Stories that Jefferson fathered children with his slave circulated during his lifetime, but mainstream historians had discounted the claims as scurrilous propaganda from political opponents. In 1974 Fawn Brodie published Thomas Jefferson: An Intimate History, which concluded that there was a long-term relationship between Jefferson and Hemings. I read some reviews of that book by historians who lambasted the book as incompetent history. I read the book and found it provocative and titillating, but it was a psychobiography, a genre that to me is often psychobabble. I tried to keep an open mind while reading Brodie’s speculations, but I did not really take her book, while a good read, very seriously, and Brodie’s work did little to shift mainstream historian’s viewpoints.

Then came Annette Gordon-Reed. She was a colleague of mine. I was on the committee that recommended hiring her, and I soon learned that I looked forward to sharing a lunch table with her because of the fascinating and wide-ranging conversations she contributed to. She could discuss arcane legal topics, politics, and sports. I learned about east Texas where she grew up. Perhaps she delighted me inordinately because she was a reader of Page Six, the overtly gossipy section of the New York Post. I am seldom averse to a little celebrity scandal. But I don’t remember any luncheon discussions about her writing projects, and I did not ask. This is often a touchy issue between senior and junior colleagues at a law school, and I was surprised when she asked me to read a manuscript she had written.

I had not known that she was writing a book. I had not known that she was working on anything connected to Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings, but this was a draft of her groundbreaking Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: An American Controversy. It was clear to me that the book was going to be attacked, but, I thought, not so much because the book supported the proposition that Jefferson had fathered children with Sally Hemings. That may have been controversial, but Jefferson scholars had dismissed that possibility and certainly would again. Instead, the really controversial part was going to be Annette’s examination of the traditional Jeffersonian scholars’ methodology. Those historians had simply accepted statements by white descendants of Jefferson who uniformly said that Jefferson had not fathered Sally Hemings’s children. The historians followed the descendants in concluding, “No way. Nix. Uh-uh. Not a chance.” Annette then noted that the historians had disregarded the statements by Hemings’s descendants who claimed Jefferson paternity. The words of whites were accepted and those of blacks ignored. In essence, the historians were saying, “You know how those blacks like flashy clothes and fancy cars even though they can’t really afford them. They also want a flashy, fancy father even though it is not true.”

(Concluded on June 22.)