Benjamin Franklin: A Jesus-Centered Deist

In light of the recent discussion on the religious creed of Benjamin Franklin, and the recent book reviews by guest blogger Robert Cornwall (over at my other blog) I thought I would add my 10 cents to the discussion by creating this post. As my co-blogger Jon Rowe has already mentioned in his previous post, Franklin, for the most part, considered himself to be a "rational Christian." Yet, throughout the course of his life, Franklin was repeatedly labeled as a "heretic," "Deist," "agnostic," etc.

Certainly the impact of Enlightenment philosophy led Franklin down diverse paths in the development of his own personal religions creed. Yet the impact of Enlightenment philosophy only tells part of the story when it comes to Franklin’s religious beliefs. After all, Franklin was raised in a very religious family, where his father, Josiah, – upon immigrating to the British colonies in America – rose to the status of a “watchman” within the Puritan community of Boston, where he enforced the strict rules of morality and piety of the colony. Josiah even planned to have Benjamin enrolled in the Boston Latin School, where he hoped his son would begin his preparations for the Congregationalist ministry (Founding Faith, 53). Benjamin, however, had different plans. As Franklin biographer Walter Isaacson points out, “Franklin’s ‘skeptical, punkish and irreverent’ behavior made him a terrible fit for the clergy” (Benjamin Franklin, 19). Later during his teenage years – while pretending to be a widowed woman named Silence Dogood – Franklin would expound upon his “rebellious” sentiments towards religion. In Silence Dogood #9, Franklin states:

'Tis not inconsistent with Charity to distrust a Religious Man in Power, tho' he may be a good Man; he has many Temptations "to propagate publick Destruction for Personal Advantages and Security": And if his Natural Temper be covetous, and his Actions often contradict his pious Discourse, we may with great Reason conclude, that he has some other Design in his Religion besides barely getting to Heaven. But the most dangerous Hypocrite in a Common-Wealth, is one who <>A Man compounded of Law and Gospel, is able to cheat a whole Country with his Religion, and then destroy them under Colour of Law: And here the Clergy are in great Danger of being deceiv'd, and the People of being deceiv'd by the Clergy, until the Monster arrives to such Power and Wealth, that he is out of the reach of both, and can oppress the People without their own blind Assistance. And it is a sad Observation, that when the People too late see their Error, yet the Clergy still persist in their Encomiums on the Hypocrite; and when he happens to die for the Good of his Country, without leaving behind him the Memory of one good Action, he shall be sure to have his Funeral Sermon stuff'd with Pious Expressions which he dropt at such a Time, and at such a Place, and on such an Occasion; than which nothing can be more prejudicial to the Interest of Religion, nor indeed to the Memory of the Person deceas'd. The Reason of this Blindness in the Clergy is, because they are honourably supported (as they ought to be) by their People, and see nor feel nothing of the Oppression which is obvious and burdensome to every one else.

Upon revealing the true identity of Silence Dogood, Franklin was quickly branded a dangerous and rebellious heretic. Those within Boston’s religious community – including Franklin’s friend, Cotton Mather – distanced themselves from the young man who dared to question the religious status quo. As Franklin put it, “My indiscreet Disputations about Religion began to make me pointed at with Horror by good People, as an Infidel or Atheist” (Franklin, Autobiography, 71).
After moving away from Boston and establishing himself as a successful printer in Philadelphia, Franklin continued his attack on pious religious leaders, who used their faith to control their flock. As Franklin states in one edition of his popular series, Poor Richard’s Almanac, “Sin is not harmful because it is forbidden, but it is forbidden because it is hurtful…Nor is duty beneficial because it is commanded, but it is commanded because it is beneficial.” In another edition Franklin wrote, "Serving God is doing good to man, but praying is thought easier service and therefore is more generally chosen."

With such an early assortment of controversial statements on religion, it is understandable why some people have considered Franklin to be an agnostic or even possibly an atheist. Such a conclusion, however, obscures much of Franklin’s passionate belief in virtue and divinity. For example, though Franklin questioned the authority of the pious ministers of his day, he never doubted the importance of living a virtuous life. Instead of devoting himself to a particular brand of orthodoxy, Franklin chose to invoke the “laws of nature” – a typical Deist principle of his day – which became the backbone of his views on divinity. Franklin’s Thirteen Virtues are a perfect example of how Franklin merged Christian principles with his Deistic philosophy:

1. Temperance. Eat not to Dulness. Drink not to Elevation.
2. Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself. Avoid trifling Conversation.
3. Order. Let all your Things have their Places. Let each Part of your Business have its Time.
4. Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought. Perform without fail what you resolve.
5. Frugality. Make no Expense but to do good to others or yourself: i.e. Waste nothing.
6. Industry. Lose no Time. Be always employ'd in something useful. Cut off all unnecessary Actions.
7. Sincerity. Use no hurtful Deceit. Think innocently and justly; and, if you speak, speak accordingly.
8. Justice. Wrong none, by doing Injuries or omitting the Benefits that are your Duty.
9. Moderation. Avoid Extreams. Forbear resenting Injuries so much as you think they deserve.
10. Cleanliness. Tolerate no Uncleanness in Body, Cloaths or Habitation.
11. Tranquility. Be not disturbed at Trifles, or at Accidents common or unavoidable.
12. Chastity. Rarely use Venery but for Health or Offspring; Never to Dulness, Weakness, or the Injury of your own or another's Peace or Reputation.
13. Humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

In addition to this personal code of conduct, Franklin sought to “amend” a number of Christian creeds and beliefs. His version of the Lord’s Prayer is an excellent example of how Franklin stripped the miracles of Christianity from his personal liturgy.

Perhaps the most telling evidence of Franklin’s personal beliefs comes from his infamous letter to Ezra Stiles in 1790. In the letter, Franklin states:

You desire to know something of my Religion. It is the first time I have been questioned upon it: But I do not take your Curiosity amiss, and shall endeavour in a few Words to gratify it. Here is my Creed: I believe in one God, Creator of the Universe. That He governs it by his Providence. That he ought to be worshipped. That the most acceptable Service we can render to him, is doing Good to his other Children. That the Soul of Man is immortal, and will be treated with Justice in another Life respecting its Conduct in this. These I take to be the fundamental Principles of all sound Religion, and I regard them as you do, in whatever Sect I meet with them. As to Jesus of Nazareth, my Opinion of whom you particularly desire, I think the System of Morals and his Religion as he left them to us, the best the World ever saw, or is likely to see; but I apprehend it has received various corrupting Changes, and I have with most of the present Dissenters in England, some Doubts as to his Divinity: tho' it is a Question I do not dogmatise upon, having never studied it, and think it needless to busy myself with it now, when I expect soon an Opportunity of knowing the Truth with less Trouble [my emphasis].

Franklin's Deistic leanings are augmented when we consider the fact that he not only questioned the divinity of Jesus Christ – as evidenced by the Ezra Stiles letter – but that he also questioned the infallibility of the Bible. The fact that he also rejected the ordinances of communion and confirmation, combined with his lack of regular church attendance serve as ample evidence that Franklin was far from an orthodox Christian. Franklin’s own admission that he was “a thorough Deist” virtually ends the dispute over his religious leanings (Franklin, Autobiography, 114).

Such an admission, however, does not suggest that Franklin was a pure Deist. After all, Franklin did believe that God regularly intervened in the affairs of mankind (Holmes, Founding Faith, 55). Franklin also maintained an appreciation for the teachings of Christianity, though he detested how it was being practiced:

I wish it were more productive of good works than I have generally seen. I mean real good works; works of kindness, charity, mercy, and public spirit; not holiday-keeping, sermon-reading or hearing; performing church ceremonies, or making long prayers...[Jesus] preferred the doers of the word, to the mere hearers...Serving God is doing good to man...Morality or Virtue is the End, Faith only a Means to obtain that End: And if the End be obtained, it is no matter by what Means" (Quoted in Waldman, Founding Faith, 20-21).

So where should we classify Franklin? From the evidence noted, it is clear that he does not fall anywhere near orthodox Christianity, yet he also falls short of embracing pure Deism. Clearly Franklin is closer to Deism than he is Christianity, so it would be fair to categorize his religious beliefs as being those of a "liberal Deist," or as I choose to define him, a "Jesus-centered Deist."

Book Review: A Midwife's Tale

A Midwife’s Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary, 1785-1812. By Laurel Ulrich. (New York: Random House Inc., 1990. Pp. 352.)

Laurel Ulrich’s A Midwife’s Tale is essentially the personal history of a typical New England woman, living and adapting to the inevitable changes brought on by the creation of the American republic. And while this seemingly insignificant life story seems rather ordinary and irrelevant to the historical record, historian Laurel Ulrich effectively weaves in how the overall changes brought on by the American Revolution led to dramatic changes in the lives of the common person. In essence, Martha Ballard’s story becomes a case study of how ordinary Americans experienced and dealt with change. As a result, this in-depth look into the diary of Martha Ballard (along with several other supporting documents), lets us better understand the day-to-day responsibilities of women, mothers, daughters, midwife’s, families, and communities that all coexisted in the years immediately following America’s war for independence.

As a work of micro history, Martha Ballard’s diary cannot, by itself, disclose all of the social and cultural traditions her day. This diary can, however, serve to augment other sources of historical significance, allowing us to come to a better understanding of this unique historical era. Laurel Ulrich’s ability to weave the diary of Martha Ballard with other historical documents, gives the modern reader a better understanding of how and why Martha Ballard’s story is relevant and worth learning.

Laurel Ulrich’s application of the diary of Martha Ballard is used to address a wide variety of topics that were prevalent in the early American republic. First off, Ulrich recounts the role of a midwife in eighteenth century America by discussing the types of medicines used, the variety of ailments that were common, and the medical prowess of the practitioners. Above all, Ulrich makes it clear that to care for the health of others was the duty of all women during this time. “It would be a serious misunderstanding to see Martha Ballard as a singular character, an unusual woman who somehow transcended the domestic sphere to become an acknowledged specialist” (62). Instead, Ulrich insists that Martha Ballard was representative of the majority of women in the early American republic. Martha Ballard was a midwife, but also a wife and mother, which meant she had her “womanly” duties to attend to as well.

Ulrich also uses Martha Ballard’s diary to shed light on the economic practices of this period. Martha Ballard’s diary was not only an account of the daily events that took place, but was also a way to record debts owed and payments received (85). In addition, Martha Ballard’s entries help to demonstrate just how intricate the neighborhood trade economy was in eighteenth-century America. Ulrich mentions how Martha Ballard relied heavily on the labor of her children, neighbors, and hired hands. In fact, when the Ballard’s add improvements to their home, Ulrich explains that this was done because, “the house was every bit as much a workplace as the sawmill” (83).

One of the main issues addressed in A Midwife’s Tale deals with the sexual standards of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. As a midwife (and a mother), Martha Ballard regularly dealt with issues ranging from sexual promiscuity to rape. In fact, Ulrich devotes the majority of chapter three to the alleged rape of Rebecca Foster, and the convoluted court case that followed. Along with her involvement in “Mrs. Foster’s ravishment,” Martha Ballard was regularly involved in the births of children out of wedlock. Ulrich mentions that sexual activity outside of marriage not only carried a stiff social stigma, but also “accounted for more than a third of criminal actions” (148). Yet despite these social stigmas, Ulrich does not fail to illustrate just how "mainstream" sexual promiscuity was in eighteenth-century America. As a midwife, Martha Ballard encountered the fruits of this promiscuity first-hand, and was regularly used as a witness in court proceedings in her and other neighboring towns. Martha’s role in such cases was often to record the name of the father in her diary, essentially making it a legal record. Ulrich explains that it was common for midwife’s to ask for the name of the father during labor, believing that a woman would never lie “in the height of her travail” (149).

In terms of its historical value, Ulrich’s A Midwife’s Tale provides wonderful insight into what Martha Ballard might have called the mundane activities of everyday life. The combination of Martha Ballard’s diary with other historical sources can help us come to a better understanding of what life was like for a “common” wife, mother, and midwife. It also presents a personal description of the sexual practices, family relations, and economic issues that affected nearly every citizen during the early years of the American republic. As a work of micro history, Ulrich effectively demonstrates how seemingly irrelevant individual stories can and should be analyzed and compared with the larger, macro histories of a given era. With that said, it is still important for the reader to keep in mind that Martha Ballard's story, no matter how compelling and insightful, should not be accepted as a true representation of what all women thought and experienced during the late eighteenth century. After all, did Mrs. Ballard even care about or contemplate what it meant to be a woman in the eighteenth-century in the same way that author Laurel Ulrich does? Did Mrs. Ballard ponder the meaning of the revolution and its consequences as they related to her and her family? Maybe, maybe not. Either way the compelling factor of Ulrich's A Midwife's Tale is the fact that micro histories can and often do help shed light and perspective on a given historical topic. As a result, they are worth the time.

My overall grade of A Midwife's Tale: A-

Cartoon Propaganda/Racism: Volume II

An old Soviet Cartoon entitled, The Millionaire from 1963:



Very interesting to see how this particular cartoon attacked Jazz music. A little known fact about Soviet society is the fact that they esteemed Jazz music as "devil music."

Cartoon Propaganda/Racism: Volume I

Over the next few weeks, I have decided to present a number of cartoons from the 40s through the 60s that are full of both war propaganda and racist innuendos. I hope it will be interesting. To start things off, check out this Donald Duck video from 1943:


Donald Duck, "The Spirit of '43", 1943:

Native American Influence on the Constitution

Today is Constitution Day. On this date we commemorate the Constitutional Convention signing this new governing document and beginning the process of making it the law of the land.

Over at my other blog American Creation, we have long debated the influences that motivated the Founding Fathers to draft the American Constitution. Everyone from John Locke to Rousseau, Montesquieu to the Holy Bible have been discussed at some length. And while these influences were undoubtedly important, to the formation of the Constitution, there is at least the possibility of a more local influence at play.

Recent scholarship on the history of the American Constitution has uncovered some interesting insights into the role that various Native American tribes may have had on the formation of the Constitution. James Mann, one of the leading writers on this topic, has stated the following with regards to this provocative Constitution/Native American connection:

So vivid were these examples of democratic self-government [from colonial Indian history] that some historians and activists have argued that the [Indians'] Great Law of Peace directly inspired the American Constitution. Taken literally, this assertion seems implausible. With its grant of authority to the federal government to supersede state law, its dependence on rule by the majority rather than consensus and its denial of suffrage to women, the Constitution as originally enacted was not at all like the Great Law. But in a larger sense the claim is correct. The framers of the Constitution, like most colonists in what would become the United States, were pervaded by Indian images of liberty.

And from the book, The Iroquois Constitution:

During the bi-centennial year of The Constitution of the United States, a number of books were written concerning the origin of that long-revered document. One of these, "The Genius of the People," alleged that after the many weeks of debate a committee led in part by South Carolina's John Rutledge, sat to discuss the wide range of disputations amongst the delegates...This Committee of Detail was having trouble deciding just how to formalize the many items of discussion into one document that would satisfy one and all. Rutledge proposed they model the new government they were forming into something along the lines of the Iroquois League of which he had observed in Albany. While there were many desirable, as well as undesirable, models from ancient and modern histories in Europe and what we know now as the Middle East, only the Iroquois had a system that seemed to meet most of the demands espoused by the many parties to the debates. The Genius of the People alleged that the Iroquois had a Constitution which began: "We the people, to form a union..."

Skeptics of course point out that the overwhelming majority of written material from the Founders present at the Constitutional Convention contains nothing of their debates regarding the Iroquois Indians. In addition, there are no records or written documents from the Iroquois Confederacy that could substantiate any claim as to their similarities with the government established in the Constitution. With that said, keep in mind two things: first the surviving written record of the Constitutional Convention is relatively small -- most of which is found in the writings of James Madison. The delegates agreed to keep it as such in order to protect the "legacies" of the various participants. Second, the Iroquois Confederacy was predominantly illiterate, meaning that a search for a written historical document would prove futile. However, if oral history is taken into account, some scholars of the Iroquois argue that the confederation they established has a very close resemblance to the Constitution.

Now, I am not saying that I agree with this Native American/Constitution theory. While it is quite an interesting proposal I personally believe that the evidence to support it is circumstantial at best. However, circumstantial evidence and oral history should not simply be discarded entirely. Native American involvement with the affairs of British colonials was vast to say the least. As a result, the exchange of goods, supplies and KNOWLEDGE would have been a natural occurrence.

Either way, this makes for a nice diversion from the traditional Bible-thumping, Locke-quoting, Montesquieu-loving, Eurocentric history that is almost the exclusive sources of any discussion on the origins of the U.S. Constitution.

To Whom it May Concern:

I don't know who (if anyone) is still reading this blog but I have decided to "resurrect" it from the dead. More to come!

A post-Christian America?

A Brief Synopsis of
Jon Meacham's Latest Article

Jon Meacham, editor of Newsweek and author of the book, American Gospel, has written an interesting piece on the apparent decline amongst Americans who identify themselves as Christians. This comes on the heels of the recent study conducted by the American Religious Identification Survey (an issue I have discussed on my other blog in the past), which revealed a dramatic drop in the percentage of Americans who consider themselves Christian, while at the same time pointing out the obvious increase in those who classify themselves as having "no faith."

In his article, Meacham sites the statistics of the aforementioned survey, along with the opinions and observations of a number of religious leaders, whose concerns over America's Christian piety have grown in light of this and other recent surveys. Meacham quotes Robert Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, who stated:

A remarkable culture-shift has taken place around us...The most basic contours of American culture have been radically altered. The so-called Judeo-Christian consensus of the last millennium has given way to a post-modern, post-Christian, post-Western cultural crisis which threatens the very heart of our culture.

For Meacham and others, this "cultural crisis" is a blessing in disguise. Meacham writes:

While we remain a nation decisively shaped by religious faith, our politics and our culture are, in the main, less influenced by movements and arguments of an explicitly Christian character than they were even five years ago. I think this is a good thing—good for our political culture, which, as the American Founders saw, is complex and charged enough without attempting to compel or coerce religious belief or observance. It is good for Christianity, too, in that many Christians are rediscovering the virtues of a separation of church and state that protects what Roger Williams, who founded Rhode Island as a haven for religious dissenters, called "the garden of the church" from "the wilderness of the world." As crucial as religion has been and is to the life of the nation, America's unifying force has never been a specific faith, but a commitment to freedom—not least freedom of conscience. At our best, we single religion out for neither particular help nor particular harm; we have historically treated faith-based arguments as one element among many in the republican sphere of debate and decision. The decline and fall of the modern religious right's notion of a Christian America creates a calmer political environment and, for many believers, may help open the way for a more theologically serious religious life.

But Meacham isn't quite ready to come all the way out of the closet and declare to all the death of Christian America:

Let's be clear: while the percentage of Christians may be shrinking, rumors of the death of Christianity are greatly exaggerated. Being less Christian does not necessarily mean that America is post-Christian. A third of Americans say they are born again; this figure, along with the decline of politically moderate-to liberal mainline Protestants, led the ARIS authors to note that "these trends … suggest a movement towards more conservative beliefs and particularly to a more 'evangelical' outlook among Christians." With rising numbers of Hispanic immigrants bolstering the Roman Catholic Church in America, and given the popularity of Pentecostalism, a rapidly growing Christian milieu in the United States and globally, there is no doubt that the nation remains vibrantly religious—far more so, for instance, than Europe.

Still in the new NEWSWEEK Poll, fewer people now think of the United States as a "Christian nation" than did so when George W. Bush was president (62 percent in 2009 versus 69 percent in 2008). Two thirds of the public (68 percent) now say religion is "losing influence" in American society, while just 19 percent say religion's influence is on the rise. The proportion of Americans who think religion "can answer all or most of today's problems" is now at a historic low of 48 percent. During the Bush 43 and Clinton years, that figure never dropped below 58 percent.

And while these numbers may very well indicate a drop in America's current collective consciousness with regards to religion, it would be foolish, as Meacham points out, to assume that the nation is entering a bona fide "post-Christian" era. As history teaches us, America has been at this crossroads before. Meacham writes:

To be post-Christian has meant different things at different times. In 1886, The Atlantic Monthly described George Eliot as "post-Christian," using the term as a synonym for atheist or agnostic. The broader—and, for our purposes, most relevant—definition is that "post-Christian" characterizes a period of time that follows the decline of the importance of Christianity in a region or society. This use of the phrase first appeared in the 1929 book "America Set Free" by the German philosopher Hermann Keyserling.

The term was popularized during what scholars call the "death of God" movement of the mid-1960s—a movement that is, in its way, still in motion. Drawing from Nietzsche's 19th-century declaration that "God is dead," a group of Protestant theologians held that, essentially, Christianity would have to survive without an orthodox understanding of God. Tom Altizer, a religion professor at Emory University, was a key member of the Godless Christianity movement, and he traces its intellectual roots first to Kierkegaard and then to Nietzsche. For Altizer, a post-Christian era is one in which "both Christianity and religion itself are unshackled from their previous historical grounds." In 1992 the critic Harold Bloom published a book titled "The American Religion: The Emergence of the Post-Christian Nation." In it he cites William James's definition of religion in "The Varieties of Religious Experience": "Religion … shall mean for us the feelings, acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to whatever they consider the divine."

To be sure, America's Christian roots are alive and well. Perhaps they have been severely scorched in recent years but the simple fact that roughly 2/3 of Americans still consider themselves Christians constitutes a real dilemma to anyone advocating for a "post-Christian" America in the here and now.

But not all hope is lost for those "post-Christian America" apologists. Near the conclusion of his article, Meacham points out where he believes America's "Christian Nation" movement has gone terribly wrong:

If we apply an Augustinian test of nationhood to ourselves, we find that liberty, not religion, is what holds us together. In "The City of God," Augustine —converted sinner and bishop of Hippo—said that a nation should be defined as "a multitude of rational beings in common agreement as to the objects of their love." What we value most highly—what we collectively love most—is thus the central test of the social contract.

Judging from the broad shape of American life in the first decade of the 21st century, we value individual freedom and free (or largely free) enterprise, and tend to lean toward libertarianism on issues of personal morality. The foundational documents are the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, not the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament (though there are undeniable connections between them). This way of life is far different from what many overtly conservative Christians would like. But that is the power of the republican system engineered by James Madison at the end of the 18th century: that America would survive in direct relation to its ability to check extremism and preserve maximum personal liberty. Religious believers should welcome this; freedom for one sect means freedom for all sects. As John F. Kennedy said in his address to the Greater
Houston Ministerial Association in 1960: "For while this year it may be a
Catholic against whom the finger of suspicion is pointed, in other years it has
been, and may someday be again, a Jew—or a Quaker—or a Unitarian—or a Baptist … Today I may be the victim—but tomorrow it may be you—until the whole fabric of our harmonious society is ripped."

[...]

"The worst fault of evangelicals in terms of politics over the last 30 years has been an incrediblenaiveté about politics and politicians and parties," says Mohler. "They investedfar too much hope in a political solution to what are transpolitical issues and problems. If we were in a situation that were more European, where the parties differed mostly on traditional political issues rather than moral ones, or if there were more parties, then we would probably have a very different picture. But when abortion and a moral understanding of the human good became associated with one party, Christians had few options politically."

When that party failed to deliver—and it did fail—some in the movement responded by retreating into radicalism, convinced of the wickedness and venality of the political universe that dealt them defeat after defeat. (The same thing happened to many liberals after 1968: infuriated by the conservative mood of the country, the
left reacted angrily and moved ever leftward.)

The columnist Cal Thomas was an early figure in the Moral Majority who came to see the Christian Americanmovement as fatally flawed in theological terms. "No country can be truly 'Christian'," Thomas says. "Only people can. God is above all nations, and, in fact, Isaiah says that 'All nations are to him a drop in the bucket and less than nothing'." Thinking back across the decades, Thomas recalls the hope—and the failure. "We were going through organizing like-minded people to 'return' America to a time of greater morality. Of course, this was to be done through politicians who had a difficult time imposing morality on
themselves!"

So, is America entering a "post-Christian" era? I think not. But at the same time one cannot help but wonder what might be on the horizon, especially in light of these recent trends.

Washington Orders Inoculation

One of the most stirring scenes in HBO's miniseries, John Adams is the inoculation of Abigail and her children. Instead of today's modern inoculation methods (which still cause many to squirm and even pass out), colonial inoculation was much more barbaric. The process involved the cutting of the flesh accompanied by the introduction of the smallpox virus into both the blood and flesh of the patient. As can be imagined, many within the colonial community saw inoculation as an insane method of treatment. There were even debates amongst medical practitioners as to its effectiveness.

What most people don't know when it comes to inoculation during this time period is that General George Washington actually ordered the soldiers of the Continental Army to be inoculated. Washington was a strong supporter of inoculation, believing that the medical procedure would greatly reduce the chances of infection. Though the procedure had many skeptics, Washington firmly believed that the benefits of inoculation far outweighed the risks. In fact, Washington became so paranoid about the spread of smallpox during the early years of the war that he literally became obsessed with inoculating the troops. During the siege of Boston, Washington's concern about the spread of smallpox caused him to issue an order stating that no soldier could enter the city unless he had been infected with smallpox in the past.

Washington's experience with smallpox during his youth was probably the primary determining factor in shaping his opinion on inoculation. During a trip to the Caribbean, Washington was infected with smallpox. In fact, Washington carried a few pockmark scars on his face to remind him of this nearly fatal encounter. His experiences during the French & Indian War had also confirmed to Washington that inoculation was essential for any army. During the war, Washington witnessed several British raids that were unsuccessful, due to the depleted manpower of the British Army.

In his highly acclaimed biography His Excellency, historian Joseph Ellis makes the claim that Washington's decision to inoculate the Continental Army was one of his finest moments:

Washington understood the ravaging implications of a smallpox epidemic within the congested conditions of the encampment, and he regularly quarantined patients that were infected with the virus...And although many educated Americans opposed inoculation, believing that it actually spread the disease, Washington strongly supported it...When historians debate Washington's most consequential decisions as commander in chief, they are almost always arguing about specific battles. A compelling case can be made that his swift response to the smallpox epidemic and to a policy of inoculation was the most important strategic decision of his military career.

In today's modern world we enjoy the benefits of understanding the scientific advancements of modern medicine. In today's world the decision to be inoculated is a "no-brainer" of sorts because of our understanding of infectious diseases. For colonial Americans, however, this was very much a roll of the dice. Fortunately for the Continental Army, Washington was brave enough to take the gamble.

Large Hadron Collider Rap

One of the coolest inventions of mankind, the Large Hadron Collider (known as CERN) in France and Switzerland will be coming online in the near future. Though I am no physicist and have less than an elementary understanding of particle physics, I have been following the progress of CERN for the past 10 months or so. It is absolutely fascinating what they are doing over there and what they may discover. If all goes to plan we could have a completely new understanding of the universe, the origin of matter, etc. Or if you believe what other "experts" say, the collider could create a black hole and completely destroy Earth and possibly the universe. Sadly, many religious fundamentalists have been actively criticizing what scientists are doing over at CERN. Since many of their ideas go against the biblical teaching of a seven-day creation and the notion that the earth is only a few thousand years old, many religious leaders are crying foul over the scientific discoveries of CERN.

Here is a funny (but pretty accurate) rap done on the CERN particle collider:



Here is a brief explanation of what they are doing at CERN:

Book Review: Remembering Partition

Remembering Partition: Violence, Nationalism and History in India. By Gyanendra Pandey. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Pp. xiii, 202).


In recent years, most historians have agreed that the partition of British India was a messy and convoluted event that set off a chain reaction of violence, nationalistic uprising and intense political debate. In his highly acclaimed book, Remembering Partition, historian Gyanendra Pandey takes an in depth look at how Indian partition was viewed and understood by different communities within India, and how the “rupture of violence” triggered a ultra-nationalistic movement between opposing communities within former British India.

Pandey’s thesis is made clear right from the start. As he states in his introduction, the book’s purpose is to focus “on a moment of rupture and genocidal violence, marking the termination of one regime and the inauguration of two new ones.” And, “It seeks to investigate what that moment of rupture, and the violent founding of new states claiming the legitimacy of nation-statehood, tells us about the procedures of nationhood, history and particular forms of sociality” (1). In addition, Pandey endeavors to explain how this moment of violence and fervent nationalism caused rival segments of the population, who were formerly under the same British banner, to move in opposition to one another and seek to legitimize their respective claims to national independence.

To set the stage for the impending violence, nationalistic surge and mass migrations to come, Pandey attempts to break down Indian partition into three separate and smaller partitions (24-25). The first of Pandey’s smaller partitions was the Muslim League’s insistence and demand for an independent Pakistani state. As Pandey notes, this was to be a Muslim-majority state free from Hindu influence and control (26). For years, Muslims living under British rule had witnessed the increasing strength and influence that the Hindus had on Congress, and as a result, sought to find their own unique and sovereign state free from the growing Hindu majority.

The second of Pandey’s smaller partitions is the acceptance of Hindu and Sikh leaders to allow the partition/quasi-annexation of the Muslim-majority provinces of Punjab and Bengal. This partition was Both Punjab and Bengal were to be divided with the Muslims controlling one half while the Hindus and Sikhs controlled the other. The division of these Muslim-dominated areas was heated to say the least. Pandey points out that this division essentially se the stage for much of the violence that was to come.

The third and final of Pandey’s partitions, which was also the most important, was the systematic forced removal, massacre, rape, torture and forced conversion of hundreds of thousands of people (35-39). Pandey argues that it was during this stage of partition that nationalistic lines were drawn and allegiance was tested. Violence became the medium through which national pride evolved. It also helped to trigger the mass exodus of people to areas where their respective religion was “accepted.”

Through these mini-partitions, Pandey argues that the partition of India was not a straightforward event where the “keys” were simply handed over from the British in 1947. Instead, partition has a deep cultural and nationalistic history that dates back at least a few years before the actual “transition” of power from the British. National, religious and cultural allegiances had been tested through the fires of violence and forced migration, all of which created a highly tense and volatile period of Indian history.

Throughout the remainder of the book, Pandey attempts to explain how history and historians who have studied Indian partition tended to take a more all-encompassing or macro view of the events leading up, and in their mind, concluding in 1947 (50). For Pandey, this simplistic view of the history of Indian partition ignores important fundamental issues that are unique to the development of Indian nationalism in diverse locations throughout the country. For example, Pandey points out how events in local areas (like Delhi and the Garmukhteshwar) became the “standard” that was then applied to the entire national landscape and historical dialogue by historians who failed to understand that many of these events were highly localized in nature (147).

Along with the misapplication of the local with the national, Pandey also points out that historians have mistakenly misinterpreted what partition meant to the individual. As he states, the violence of partition was partition for many of its participants. A large number of people were forced to either stand defiant to the violence or make huge compromises (like converting to another faith) in order to survive (190). Pandey argues that it was these horrors of the actual people who participated that is left out of the historical record. As a result, Indian partition is seen, by many of its participants, not on the large nationalistic scale, but on the local level where violence, rape, etc. is forever interwoven with partition.

As future historians attempt to dissect the national (and local) story of Indian partition, Pandey’s Remembering Partition will likely serve as an effective barometer by which to judge one’s research. Remembering Partition is an invaluable addition to the historiography of Indian partition that changes the reader’s understanding on an event, which on the surface seems uneventful. By helping to shed light on the true nature of Indian partition, Pandey’s work is likely to stand as a bright beacon on insight on this often misunderstood historical event.