The United States is neither done with race nor with the problem of racism. In this dilemma the U.S. is not alone. In Brazil and much of the rest of Latin America active pigmentocracies still relegate those of African descent and darker skinned indigenous peoples to the lower rungs of society (Gates Reference Gates2011; Gudmunson and Wolfe, Reference Gudmunson and Wolfe2010; Hooker Reference Hooker2009; Joseph Reference Joseph2015; Telles Reference Telles2014). Despite a great multiracial democratic revolution and the rise of numerous Black Africans into its economic elite, South Africa is far from done with the deep wounds and legacies of ongoing, vast Black poverty and economic marginalization attendant to its apartheid past (Gibson Reference Gibson2015; Nattrass and Seekings, Reference Nattrass and Seekings2001; Seekings Reference Seekings2008). Where it was once erected, although subject to much complexity and change in the modern era, the color line endures almost anywhere one looks around the globe.
The notion of modernity we typically associate with two intersecting streams of ideas. One of these streams involves ideals of economic growth and development, free markets, and technological innovation. The other stream involves ideals of freedom, egalitarianism, and democracy. With the march forward of these intersecting streams much social thought foretold the withering of old ascriptive inequalities and barriers tied to racial and ethnic distinctions. But as ethnic studies scholar Elisa Joy White (Reference White2012) has put it, such “contemporary renderings of modernity are intrinsically flawed because of the structural antecedent of race-based social inequality” (p. 3).
One pioneering intellectual, W. E. B. Du Bois, tackled this great problem of modernity: namely, the fusing of capitalism, colonialism, and ethnoracial distinction and hierarchy. As he declared in the opening of chapter two of The Souls of Black Folk, “The problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color-line,—the relation of the darker to the lighter races of men in Asia and Africa, in America and the islands of the sea” (Du Bois [Reference Du Bois1903] 2007, p. 8). Despite Du Bois’s early emphasis on race as a social cleavage shaping life around the globe and therefore a subject worthy of sustained scholarly attention and empirical research, his theoretical, methodological, and empirical observations for too long were shunted to the margins of scholarship. As we witness the color line enduring well into the new millennium, Du Bois’s original insights have risen in analytical relevance and importance.
It is only fitting, therefore, that scholars would embark on the task of resurrecting, fully explicating, and applying and testing Du Bois’s foundational ideas on the global dynamics of race. Three entries in this issue of the Du Bois Review: Social Science Research on Race speak directly to this project. Sociologists José Itzigsohn and Karida Brown provide a trenchant exegesis of Du Bois’s concept of “double consciousness.” They flesh out important distinctions between Du Bois’s notion of the veil or color line, the sense of “two-ness” experienced by those on the wrong side of the veil, and the element of second-sight or fuller perspective on the social order that also comes with membership on the wrong side of the color line. Importantly, they link these ideas to the meaning and dynamics of Whiteness as well as to theoretical discourses about modernity. Sociologist Kevin Loughran unpacks Du Bois’s contributions to analyses of urban social life. In particular, he juxtaposes the originality of Du Bois’s work in The Philadelphia Negro ([1899] 2007) to other works widely regarded as canonical urban studies texts. He shows how and why Du Bois should have long ranked as one of the foremost sociologists of the urban experience. The foundational timing and quality of Du Bois’s contributions are the subject of distinguished sociologist Aldon D. Morris’s (Reference Morris2015) new book The Scholar Denied: W. E. B. Du Bois and the Birth of Modern Sociology, which I review in great depth. “The Morris Enunciation,” as I refer to this extraordinarily powerful book, will usher Du Boisian sociology to a level of recognition it should have enjoyed long ago.
From a very early point in his work, Du Bois was concerned with matters of crime and incarceration in the life experience of urban Blacks. Thus, when he undertook the The Philadelphia Negro study, he remarked that many observers at the time regarded crime as “the Negro problem.” He particularly bemoaned a situation where dominant White institutions were ready to arrest and jail Blacks in a planful manner, and were doing little, in Du Bois’s analysis, to encourage, support, and welcome capable and talented Blacks into the mainstream of society. This dynamic today we find referred to as the “new Jim Crow” (Alexander Reference Alexander2010) or perhaps more descriptively as “racialized mass incarceration” (Bobo and Thompson, Reference Bobo, Thompson, Markus and Moya2010). In a careful network analysis, Hedwig Lee and her colleagues document the astonishing penetration of what sociologist Loic Waquant (Reference Wacquant2001) calls the “carceral state” into the fabric of social life among Black Americans. In particular, using high quality national data and sophisticated statistical analyses, they reveal radically greater odds that the social networks of African Americans, as compared to otherwise comparable Whites, include individuals in jail or prison.
Two review essays in this issue cast additional light on the intersection of race, crime, policing, and incarceration. African Americanist scholar and anthropologist Laurence Ralph reviews two major ethnographies: Victor M. Rios’ book Punished: Policing the Lives of Black and Latino Boys (Reference Rios2011) and Alice Goffman’s On The Run: Fugitive Life in An American City (Reference Goffman2014). Of the two, Goffman’s book has been the subject of high profile public discussion, a discussion that began with effusive praise but that has turned increasingly to controversy and dissension. As Ralph notes, the books share a concern with the lives of young, urban, minority males, especially Black males. Goffman offers a portrait of young men hemmed into fugitive lifestyles by the heavy intrusion of policing, the risk of arrest and incarceration, and vulnerability to the full apparatus of law enforcement which they must constantly evade. In a trenchant and discerning review, Ralph credits this important work for capturing some of the conditions experienced by a subset of young Black men, but also rightly takes Goffman to task for succumbing to a stereotype-reinforcing narrative and analysis. Specifically, he faults the unfortunate reliance on a “jungle book” style framing, the analytical invocation of a stunningly simplistic “clean” versus “dirty” conceptual dichotomy, and a failure to carefully address the role of institutions and significant social brokers in the lives of young, poor, urban males. Rios’ work, in contrast, Ralph sees as offering a far richer, socially situated, and more fully humanizing view of similarly poor, urban, minority male youth.
Elizabeth Hinton reviews two major books focused on more macro-social and political aspects of the phenomenon of mass incarceration. In particular, her review should be read in the context of the striking extent to which public attention has increasingly focused on the problem of mass incarceration. She concludes that a major National Research Council report entitled The Growth of Mass Incarceration in the United States: Exploring Causes and Consequences (Reference Travis, Bruce and Redburn2014) has helped push forward a better informed and arguably more social-justice-oriented discourse on issues of crime and punishment. She also devotes considerable attention to political scientist Marie Gottschalk’s new book Caught: The Prison State and the Lockdown of American Politics (Reference Gottschalk2014). Hinton credits the sophistication Gottschalk brings to the complexity of the public policy landscape in this domain. Yet she also raises real questions about Gottschalk’s desire to de-center race and a race-based critique of the growth and reproduction of mass incarceration in the United States.
Taking a more historical perspective on related issues concerning those of Mexican and Native American ancestry, Robert F. Castro and Rihao Gao attempt to determine if U.S. administrative records, such as the Census, can reveal the numbers of individuals held in “captive” status along the U.S.-Mexico borderline in the late nineteenth century. They identify a viable strategy of analysis and point to worrisome evidence that even those officially tasked to serve as “federal liberators” in this era were in fact also holding others in captive status.
Three articles in this issue speak arguably to the concept of race itself and how social scientists ought to understand potential changes in, as well as the complexity and malleability of, our racial identities. These matters too, of course, were an important pre-occupation of Du Bois reaching all the way back to his early essay entitled “The Conservation of Races” (Du Bois Reference Du Bois1897). Political theorist Greta Fowler Snyder examines the ways that popular cultural practices that serve to “mark Whiteness” may be seen as stepping stones toward racial justice. Mass cultural products, such as comedy routines and performances, can “mark Whiteness” in ways that show the workings of racial privilege and thereby establish a better basis for a sense of cross-racial solidarity in pursuit of racial justice. Distinguished political scientist Jennifer L. Hochschild and collaborator Maya Sen examine the likely effects of popular genomic ancestry testing on racial ideas and identities. Their results suggest that at least this aspect of the genomic revolution does not appear to be encouraging a troubling return to singular and biological and essentialist understandings of race.
Political scientist John A. Garcia and colleagues argue that race is best thought of as a multidimensional construct. They suggest that it would be useful to conceive of race as involving skin color, perceptions held by others, and the experience of differential or discriminatory treatment. Using a well-designed sample survey of Latino/as in the United States, they assess the impact of a multidimensional measure of race on Latino/as’ self-reported health status. Their results strongly indicate that both skin color and encounters with discrimination influence health outcomes. Latino/as of darker skin and those reporting encounters with bias have worse health outcomes.
Equally important to consider are the factors of group boundaries and the conceptualization of race itself. As Du Bois would insist, we need to be mindful of how the factors of legal contestation, political entrepreneurship, and even scholarly intellectual production play a role in defining racial dynamics. In his final great work of social scientific writing, Black Reconstruction in America ([1953] 2007), Du Bois concludes with an interrogation of the story of reconstruction as told in the typical U.S. history book. There he finds a mindboggling distortion of the facts, such as blaming the Civil War on Abolitionist intransigence, and an overtly racist depiction of African Americans. That historians had arrived at a consensus endorsing such an interpretation he found particularly disturbing. Thus, Du Bois wrote:
If history is going to be scientific, if the record of human action is going to be set down with accuracy and faithfulness of detail which will allow its use as a measuring guidepost for the future of nations, there must be set some standards of ethics in research and interpretation.
If, on the other hand, we are going to use history for our pleasure and amusement, for inflating our national ego, and giving us a false but pleasurable sense of accomplishment, then we must give up the idea of history either as science or as an art using the results of science, and admit frankly that we are using a version of historic fact in order to influence and educate the new generation along the way we wish. ([1953] 2007, pp. 584-585).
Tellingly for Du Bois, he points to the success of the political project of those aiming solely to heal divisions among and between Whites, at the expense of addressing the great moral, economic, and political challenge before America of embracing the full humanity and needs of African Americans.
Two articles in this issue of the Du Bois Review tackle how the legal and policy-making arenas may be shaped by political entrepreneurship in ways that influence racial dynamics. Sociologist Ellen Berry examines how a radical social movement, By Any Means Necessary (BAMN) at the University of Michigan, sought to influence race-conscious admission policies. Her historical ethnography suggests that by accepting some of the constraints of the legal and litigation process, rather than hewing more closely to an open protest tradition, BAMN may have unwittingly ceded important ground to affirmative action opponents and to U.S. Supreme Court rulings that headed ever more decisively in the direction of embracing a doctrine of legal colorblindness. Historian Mircea Alexandru Platon traces the emergence and influence of a group of Cold War-era thinkers and intellectuals. In particular, he examines their ideas, networks, and strategies as they variously intersected with more overtly racist groups, agendas, and ideas over a long stretch of post-World War II history. Thus, even in national security and foreign policy discourse, which is often assumed to be neutral with respect to race, one finds agendas tethered to shaping modern paths of development in a racialized manner.
In his masterful Dusk of Dawn ([1940] 2007), Du Bois blends autobiographical reflection with a probing examination of the race concept. Du Bois discusses directly what it is that ties together his own circumstances and experience of modernity with those still on the vast African continent from whence his ancestors came and, indeed, how that sort of path of experience shares commonality with that of many others caught in the sweep of European empire building and colonialism. Du Bois wrote:
But one thing is sure and that is the fact that since the fifteenth century these ancestors of mine and their other descendants have had a common history; have suffered a common disaster and have one long memory. The actual ties of heritage between the individuals of this group vary with the ancestors that they have in common and many others: Europeans and Semites, perhaps Mongolians, certainly American Indians. But the physical bond is least and the badge of color relatively unimportant save as a badge; the real essence of this kinship is its social heritage of slavery; the discrimination and insult; and this heritage binds together not simply the children of Africa, but extends through yellow Asia and into the South Seas. It is this unity that draws me to Africa ([1940] 2007, p. 59).
Du Bois thus eloquently rejects a biological or essentialist understanding of race. Instead, he embraces a historical and sociological analysis of how systems of racial inequality have shaped social organization, great tranches of lived experience, and therefore social identities.
The sophistication and indeed wisdom of Du Bois’s approach to ethnoracial inequality and the challenges of modernity should have played a far more prominent and structuring role in guiding social scientific theory and research on race than it did. With The Morris Enunciation as well as other efforts to unearth, extend, apply, and test Du Bois’s ideas, we are likely to see a vigorous and illuminating revival of social scientific work expressly animated by a Du Boisian paradigm. Whether the issue is group boundary formation processes, the nature and effects of crime and policing, the excavation of other arenas of socially unequal treatment and outcomes, or analyses of political dynamics and public policy, the renewal and ascendance of distinctly Du Boisian perspectives is a salutary development.
