Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Chapter One

Chapter One: A. Philip Randolph, Chandler Owen, and The Messenger

In December, 1919, a small, Harlem-based magazine which had previously earned itself the title of “the most dangerous of all the Negro publications”[1] began its latest issue in a most traditionally American way: with a Thanksgiving celebration. The editors of The Messenger, Harlem socialists A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen, wasted no time in subverting this ritual, announcing “we do not thank God for anything…Our deity is the toiling masses of the world.”[2] Among the things the young revolutionists did give thanks for was “the Russian Revolution-the greatest achievement of the twentieth century.” Not content to stop with the invocation of an event that positively terrified the American government, they went on to give thanks for “the German Revolution, the Austrian Revolution, the Hungarian Revolution, and the Bulgarian Revolution.” Lest they seem ungrateful for the class struggles which had not yet produced a revolution, The Messenger’s editors also gave nods to “the titanic strikes which are seeping and have been sweeping Great Britain, France, Italy, the United States, Japan, and in fact every country in the world.” This small offering of thanks reveals the importance that Owen and Randolph placed on global revolution. Long before “globalization” was becoming a buzzword for everyone from social scientists to New York Times columnists, two young, African-American radicals were eagerly taking their lead from the international revolutionary movement. This chapter illustrates how that global movement, centered around the Russian Revolution, was both a source of strength for the politics of working class power – in a word, socialism – Owen and Randolph would advance in Black America, and a source of demoralization as the movement ebbed.

As their Thanksgiving editorial demonstrates, A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen were deeply influenced by world revolutionary upsurge in general and the Russian Revolution in particular. This influence has, however, gone largely unstudied in what little scholarship exists on the editors of The Messenger. Jervis Anderson’s 1972 biography of A. Philip Randolph remains the work that most explores the influence of the Russian revolution on the Messenger. The chapter dealing with Randolph and the Messenger rightly situates the magazine’s launch between America’s entry into World War I and the October Revolution of 1917. Anderson recounts the effusive praise Randolph and Owen heaped upon the Bolsheviks, but quickly notes that “[t]he Messenger would suddenly lose its enthusiasm for the Russian dance”[3] in 1921. I will argue later that the Russian Revolution remained a central orienting point for the Messenger’s editors as late as September, 1922. In addition, Anderson’s reasons for Randolph’s move to the right rely wholly upon domestic events. He lists “the general collapse of the New Negro insurgency,”[4] the Messenger’s always precarious finances, and the split between Socialists and Communists after the latter became a force in America. Completely lacking from this account is the tremendous sea-change that took place in world revolutionary politics between 1917 and 1922. Furthermore, these changes in international politics influenced the factors which Anderson does list as influencing the Messenger. As this study will illustrate, the shift from the upsurge of 1919 to the spectre of fascism in 1922 was one of the key factors behind the collapse of the New Negro movement. Anderson also generally understates the impact of revolutionary politics on the Messenger editors during the years in which they were aligned with the Soviet Union. In discussing their articles on the causes and solutions to race riots, he fails to mention that they look to Soviet Russia as an example of a nation where the problem has been solved, dedicating essays to elucidating that very argument. Anderson’s failure to note this influence results in an impoverished view of Randolph and the sources of his politics.

More recent treatments of the subject have hardly improved upon Anderson’s formulations. Paula Pfeffer’s 1990 Randolph biography gives the international influences on her subject’s political development even less space. She notes, for example, that “Randolph was unalterably opposed to taking direction from a source outside the United States,”[5] and uses this to explain the Messenger’s decision to side with the Socialist Party in the Socialist/Communist Split. It is only through a selective engagement with Randolph’s writings that Pfeffer is able to argue this interpretation. Her only evidence for it is an article Randolph wrote in 1926 (well after the end of his engagement with Marxism) for Opportunity magazine to the effect that the Communists were outsiders who split the movement. This vision of a nationally hermetic radicalism is utterly incongruent with the vast majority of the Messenger’s issues, which advance an internationalist politics based on the world revolutionary movement. As mentioned above, Randolph explicitly did take direction from outside the United States in the proposed solution to race riots in America. Furthermore, her analysis is blind to the nuances of Randolph and Owen’s engagement with Soviet Russia. While praising Lenin and Trotsky, for example, they heap scorn upon “St. Zinoviev” of the Comintern. Surely there is ground here for further analysis. What were Zinoviev’s policies which so enraged the Harlem radicals? How did they represent a break from the past? Pfeffer’s failure to even ask these questions leaves a massive void in her study of Randolph’s politics.

In fact, as I will demonstrate, the Russian Revolution and the international revolutionary movement had an immense influence on the Messengers politics. Randolph, Owen, and their collaborators (both around the Messenger and in the New Negro movement generally) were all tremendously enthused by the working class upsurge in Europe that was occurring when they founded the Messenger. News of revolutions abroad gave them confidence at home that their side was winning. Beyond this, it gave them an ethical compass, and an example to look to for solving problems domestically. Above all, it provided them with a realistic model of what socialism would look like. As this movement ebbed, and was eventually defeated, the Messenger group felt the demoralization which set in on the global movement. This was, I argue, a major force in the magazine’s conservatization. Before getting to that story, however, it is necessary to trace just how central internationalist working class politics were to the Messenger.

Black Bolsheviks

A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen, like many of those who represented the leadership of the New Negro movement, were recent immigrants to New York, partakers in the Great Migration. Randolph arrived in 1911, inspired by Du Bois’ Souls of Black Folk and impatient with the political opportunities available in Jacksonville, Florida. Owen arrived two years later, in 1913, to study sociology and political science at Columbia University. Introduced through Randolph’s wife, Lucille, the two became fast friends as they realized the striking congruence of their political views.

Owen and Randolph soon became fixtures in Harlem’s growing soapbox radical speakers scene. Most prominent among such speakers was the Black socialist, Hubert Henry Harrison. As Jervis Anderson has written, ”whenever [Harrison]…was speaking…the young men would be there.”[6] Learning from both Harrison and the time they spent studying “the theory and history of socialism and working-class politics” and “their application to the racial problem in America,”[7] the two, particularly Randolph, became noted radical speakers in their own right, joining the Socialist Party in 1916.

As the two grew in reputation as advocates of labor unionism and socialism, they attracted the attention of the Headwaiters and Sidewaiters Society of Greater New York, which was looking for editors for its magazine. Offered both a paycheck and office space, the two jumped at the opportunity. They soon moved into their new office on Lennox Avenue, and began publishing the magazine. Their editorship was to be short-lived, however. Eight months after they began, Randolph and Owen were fired for exposing corruption involving the headwaiters receiving kickbacks for selling uniforms to sidewaiters. Undeterred, the two simply moved their office next door and began publishing The Messenger.

The Messenger’s inaugural issue in November, 1917 set the tone for its endorsement of revolutionary internationalist politics. It contained a satirical jab at U.S. proposals to further the war effort by banning the teaching of German. Randolph and Owen sent greetings to Irish-American radicals who were calling on Great Britain to lift “her imperial heel from off the tired neck of Ireland.”[8] Russia was also on the writers’ minds, as they cheered the defeat of a counterrevolutionary military coup in Petrograd. Even more interesting, however, for a magazine which became infamous with the FBI for its defense of the Bolshevik Revolution, was Owen and Randolph’s paragraph long praise of Alexander Kerensky, Prime Minister under the provisional government of Russia and the man the Bolsheviks would depose from power. Their short “Who’s Who” entry on Kerensky praised him for the defeat of General Kornilov’s coup[9], and cheered his government on with exclamations of “Long live Revolutionary Russia!” and “Long live Socialism!”[10] This praise is even stranger given that the magazine’s very next issue would heap unstinting praise upon the Bolsheviks in general, and on Lenin and Trotsky in particular.

This seeming paradox of support for both Kerensky and his arch-foes, the Bolsheviks, reveals the lens with which Owen and Randolph judged revolutionary movements. While today, 90 years after the Russian Revolution, history books are filled with the actions of Lenin and Trotsky, Kerensky and Miliukov, or Martov and Dan, at the time the Messenger was endorsing not the positions of these various politicos, but the revolutionary actions of the Russian workers. As the closing exhortations of their endorsement of Kerensky reveal (“Long live Revolutionary Russia,” “Long live Socialism!”), Randolph and Owen were not endorsing his government for its own sake, but because they believed it was the representative of socialism and revolutionary Russia. Compare this stance, for example, with a resolution passed by metalworkers near Petrograd in March, 1917:

All measures of the PG [provisional government] that destroy the remnants of the autocracy and strengthen the freedom of the people must be fully supported on the part of democracy. All measures that lead to conciliation with the old régime and that are directed against the people must meet with a most decisive protest and counteraction.[11]

Just as the workers of Petrograd supported Kerensky insofar as his government “strengthen[ed] the freedom of the people,” so Randolph and Owen supported it insofar as it stood for revolution in Russia. They placed their trust at this point not in the parties contending in Russia at the time, but in the course of the revolution itself.

When news of the Bolshevik seizure of power did reach Harlem, however, it profoundly changed the Messenger’s stance. The next issue appeared in January of 1918, a full two months after the October Revolution. In the interim, it is clear that Owen and Randolph had come to fully endorse the Bolshevik position in Russia. Their editorial titled simply “The Bolsheviki” contains a detailed description of the Bolshevik platform, as well as a defense of Lenin and Trotsky against the charge of being German agents, an accusation floating around in both the Russian counterrevolutionary press and the U.S. “metropolitan press.” The editors dismiss this “malicious libel,” explaining how the Bolshevik example will “awaken the proletariat of the world to his power and his right to a fair share of the world’s goods.” Though clearly won to Bolshevism, Owen and Randolph still identified with the broader revolutionary movement as described above. Their endorsement of Lenin and Trotsky contains an explanation why the Bolsheviks succeeded: “[t]he Russian people want a general, and not a separate peace. Lenine and Trotsky are working for this result.” [12] It is the congruence of Bolshevik views with the views of “the Russian people” which gives them the moral and political authority they command.

This authority extended beyond the Messenger’s views on international politics and became an integral part of the magazine’s political identity. Rhetoric referring to the Soviet victory became an asset Randolph and Owen deployed in a multifarious assortment of situations. In the January issue, Owen’s column, “Peace,” uses the Russian Revolution to advance antiwar arguments against the U.S. government. Noting Wilson’s refusal to negotiate with Germany because it is not “a people’s government,” Owen goes on to argue that American hypocrisy is demonstrated “in the same breath by a willingness to make terms with the autocracy of Russia, but an unwillingness to recognize the people’s most democratic government of Russia.”[13] The victory of the Russian Revolution did not remain simply a success story from afar, but came home to shape the political arguments the Messenger would use to argue against the government at home.

The Messenger’s July issue continued this focus on the Bolshevik Revolution. Owen and Randolph led with an editorial titled “Bolshevism and World Democracy,” which portrayed the Soviet government as “a forward of true world democracy.” It also located Russia’s place within a narrative of ascending freedom, comparing those who doubt the Soviets to “the Tories of England and America” and “[t]he Bourbons of France.” The Bolsheviks became the latest incarnation of the Minutemen and the sans-culottes, standard bearers in the march of democracy.[14]

The July issue also displayed an awareness of the power of transnational political influences. In “Psychology Will Win This War,” Chandler Owen lays out a sophisticated understanding of the ways in which people construct their political identities from sources of extra-national origin. He describes how Kerensky (who had received praise in the Messenger’s inaugural issue) sought to make the Russian people “feel that their goal and the Allies’ goal were the same.” Here the construction of a political identity with transnational roots was at the service of those prosecuting World War I. If the goals of the Allies could be linked with the goals of the Russian peasants fighting and dying in the trenches, Kerensky would be vastly more assured of his army’s stability. The Bolsheviks, however, followed a different course. Owen notes that the Soviet government’s “democratic doctrine” was affecting German public opinion. By “attacking [German] policies,” the Bolsheviks were “changing Germany’s psychology.”[15] Indeed, Trotsky, as Russia’s new Commissar for Foreign Affairs, made the construction of transnational political linkages a central component of his work. He worked in conjunction with the new Soviet Commander in Chief Nikolai Krylenko, who immediately ordered a “cease fire and ‘fraternization on the fronts.” Krylenko and Trotsky hoped that “through contact with the Russian troops the German Army would become infected with revolution.” Trotsky also demanded as a condition for a truce that German authorities “expressly [allow] the Soviets to conduct revolutionary agitation among German and Austrian troops.” [16] The Bolsheviks thus made linkages between the soldiers of hostile nations a key component in their foreign policy.

In the same article, Owen noted how the world’s rulers were also aware of the growing connections between revolutionary politics in different countries. He recounts with glee British Prime Minister Lloyd George’s proclamation that “A Revolutionary Russia can never be anything but a menace to the Prussian autocracy.”[17] Authorities at home were equally attuned to the dangerous politics making their way across the Atlantic. Though it was standard practice for law enforcement groups to describe any African Americans who stood for full racial equality as Bolsheviks, with the Messenger group the charge was clearly not devoid of merit. Undercover agents who visited the publication’s offices took careful note of the portraits of Lenin and Trotsky which adorned the walls.[18] The Justice Department’s attitude towards the flow of ideas across the ocean was in some ways the mirror image of Randolph and Owen’s. One department memo described the Messenger in language which could only have made its editors proud: “a well-planned, well-executed and well-financed [Randolph and Owen were surely amused by this description] propaganda among the Negroes of this country to-day for an absolute overthrow of the present form of government and the substitution of governmental ideas as carried out by Lenin and Trotsky in Russia.”[19] Just as the Russian Revolution inspired militancy and hope in American radicals, it inspired trepidation and paranoia in America’s rulers.

In addition to scaring Justice Department agents, the offices of the Messenger became a meeting ground for many different radicals of the New Negro movement. A testament to the ecumenicalism of the movement’s early days, everyone from Garveyites to future communists could be found in the Messenger’s office. Among those who spent time in the small Lennox Avenue space were William Ferris, Black nationalist and future editor of the Negro World, Lovett Fort-Whitman, Black Wobbly and future Communist, and Wilfred Adolphus Domingo, another future editor of the Negro World and member of the African Blood Brotherhood.[20] All of these radicals shared a common hope in revolution in the United States, a hope nurtured by the progress of revolutionary movements abroad.

The hope and militancy inspired by both the Russian Revolution and the European revolutionary wave would come to a head in 1919 and 1920. The Messenger’s March 1919 issue (the first to appear following July 1918) carried an editorial about “The German National Assembly,” celebrating the birth of the Weimar Republic. Though the new assembly was headed primarily by moderate socialists with politics similar to Kerensky’s, Owen and Randolph were quite confident that “the more radical Sparticides will ‘ere long rise to power.”[21] This shift from the position in 1917 of support for the moderate socialists to support for those who sought a working class seizure of power is indicative of the revolutionary socialist ideas that the Messenger’s editors took from the upsurges of 1919. Where once they had backed the moderate section of the working class movement that was in power, they now supported the most militant wing, confident that working class power was the solution to the problems they faced. The following issue continued this identification with the revolutionary European workers, celebrating “the cosmic tread of Soviet government:”

Russia and Germany have yielded to its human touch and now Hungary joins the people’s form of rule. Italy is standing upon a social volcano. France is seething with social unrest. The triple alliance of Great Britain – the railroad, transport, and mine workers – threaten to overthrow the economic and political bourbonism of “Merry Old England.” The red tide of socialism sweeps on in America. South America is in the throes of revolution.[22]

The revolution was at hand, and Chandler Owen and A. Philip Randolph could scarcely contain their joy.

This exaltation was not merely a case of radicals drunk on the grandiosity of their own dreams. A revolutionary tide was sweeping Europe. By 1920 the Communist-led Third International contained the Italian Socialist Party (300,000 members), the Czechoslavak Communist Party (400,00 members), the French Socialist Party (140,000 members), the Bulgarian Socialists (35,478 members), and the Swedish Socialist Party (17,000 members). This was in addition to the German Independent Social-Democratic Party, which had voted to leave the Second International but not to join the Third, and had 800,000 members.[23] Lastly, of course, there was the Bolshevik Government in Russia. The sheer size of the revolutionary movement in Europe gave good warrant for the inspiration Owen and Randolph felt. Just as an earlier generation of radicals had taken heart from the successes of the British anti-slavery struggle, Black radicals in Harlem used the experiences of the European proletariat to shape their own political identity.

Randolph and Owen were self-conscious of the outer-national nature of this shaping. Their editorial from the August 1919 issue, “Internationalism,” presents the editors’ own miniature history of the transnational politics they advocated. The editorial began by extending a welcome to Éamon de Valera, newly elected Prime Minister of Ireland, to America. De Valera had come to the US to seek recognition for the Irish Republic, hoping thus to undercut British claims to the isle. Owen and Randolph applauded De Valera for this move, writing that it demonstrated “signal intelligence” to carry the problem “outside of Ireland for a solution.” They contrast De Valera’s shrewdness with “the ignorant Negro leaders” in America, who, Owen and Randolph claimed, were content to keep the American racial nightmare a purely domestic affair. The editors go on to claim that “the international method” is “the method of the future.” They also plumb the past for examples of its application, recounting General Lafayette’s aid in the American Revolution, Karl Marx’s work in lobbying the International Workingman’s Association to stand for the abolition of slavery, and Frederick Douglass’ travels to England to win support for the same. Noting Woodrow Wilson’s selective transnationalism, Owen and Randolph condemn the president’s “eloquen[ce] over the pogroms committed against Jews in Poland” when juxtaposed with his silence over “the burning of a Negro every day or so in Texas or Georgia or Mississippi.” [24] This history illustrates Owen and Randolph’s self-consciousness in using international tools to develop their own political identities. In discussing the ways De Valera and Douglass sought to make the issues of Irish Republicanism and Abolitionism, respectively, part of their audiences’ political priorities, the Messenger editors illustrated their own desires to make Black oppression in America an international issue as well. Not only did they seek to use transnational politics to their own advantage, they also placed themselves within an African American political tradition of doing the same

If Owen and Randolph sought to bring domestic politics abroad, however, they also hoped to bring international politics home. In discussing the proposed platform of the Left Wing of the American Socialist Party (SP), they emphasize their support of the proposed “immediate emergency national convention” by arguing for the need to discuss the SP position in regards to the Soviets. Randolph and Owen condemned the Right Wing of the SP for its combination of undemocratic procedure and anticommunism. Arguing that “It is high time that the leaders stopped proclaiming in the party press and out of the party press that they are not Bolsheviks,” they go on to ask, “Are the Bolsheviki something to be shunned, despised and declaimed? If we oppose them, why?...let us discuss the facts and interpret them.”[25] In calling for democratic discussion inside the party, the Messenger editors hoped to open up a space to win support for the Bolsheviks in Russia. The politics they brought home from abroad aided them in their struggles to forge the type of Socialist Party they desired. [26]

They also imported the ideas of working class power of the Russian Revolution to deal directly with questions regarding race in America. The September 1919 issue of the Messenger contained an article by contributing editor (and editor of Marcus Garvey’s Negro World) W.A. Domingo entitled “Did Bolshevism Stop Race Riots in Russia?” The article is primarily an exposition of the various measures the Soviets had taken against anti-Semitism in Russia. Domingo lists how Trotsky, a Jew, became Minister of War and how Karl Peters, a Lett, became a Commissar. He also contrasts Russia’s post-revolutionary emancipation of its colonies in Persia with Great Britain’s retention of its holdings. Most importantly, Domingo draws a parallel between the treatment of Jews in Russia and the treatment of Blacks in America. He recounts how “the great revolution came,” after which Russia was made “unsafe for mobocrats, but safe for Jews and other oppressed racial minorities.” He contrasts this state with the pogroms occurring in White Army occupied Russia, noting the same linkage Langston Hughes would describe between “red-baiters” and “race haters.” Domingo concludes by asserting that it is “deducible from the analogy of Soviet Russia” that Bolshevism in America is capable of stopping race riots.[27]

Domingo’s essay was a bold proclamation of Soviet sympathizing. It was published immediately after the “Red Summer” of 1919, when race riots across the country had killed scores of African-Americans. The summer’s moniker became a double entendre for politicians, who sought to blame the violence on “Bolshevik agitators” who stirred up the otherwise docile and contented Blacks. Indeed, these riots were on the minds of the editors of the Messenger, who opened their September issue with Claude McKay’s now famous poem, “If We Must Die.” The issue also carried a call for the defense of African-Americans who had been arrested during the rioting. This militant response to the terror of the lynch mob was partially made possible by the Messenger’s transnational politics. As Domingo’s essay makes clear, the Messenger group, using the example of Soviet Russia, thought of themselves as possessing the solution to race riots. For them, no amount of goodness on the part of African Americans would stop the riots. They would only cease once America had its “October.” The relative militancy of this response is clear when it is compared with that of the Crisis, which, while sanctioning self-defense, placed far greater stress on avoiding “vengeance” or becoming “blind and lawless.” While the Crisis saw the problem of lynching in terms of America straying from the path of “a Land of Law,”[28] the Messenger’s engagement with the Russian Revolution allowed it to argue that the problem could only be solved by overturning America’s laws.

The issue that most linked the Messenger’s celebration of revolutions abroad with its advocacy at home was its opposition to the United States intervention in Russia. Immediately following the Soviet seizure of power in October 1917, a clique of generals and monarchists began organizing an army to overthrow the new workers’ government. The Whites, as they were called, were aided in this endeavor by no less than fourteen governments from around the world. When the specter of communism materialized in Russia, states on both sides of WWI put aside their differences and agreed that Bolshevism was simply too dangerous to be ignored. All told, nearly 200,000 foreign troops were landed on Russian soil to assist the White Army. In addition, the United States held a blockade of Soviet ports which “allowed them to block almost all exports to Soviet Russia while permitting trade with White regions.”[29]

This blockade strangled the already damaged Russian economy, setting the stage for the revolution’s degeneration and the Messenger’s subsequent abandonment of the politics of working class power. Allied support for White forces had allowed them to devastate Russia’s productive capacities. Already by Spring, 1918, “the food ration in Moscow and Petrograd sank to just 10 percent of that needed to sustain a manual worker.”[30] As Wilson used the Federal Reserve, War Trade Board, and Shipping Board to tighten restrictions on exports to Russia, the situation grew only worse. The White Armies, meanwhile, made good use of the US aid that was allowed in. One Russian general, thanking the US, pronounced that “The North-Western Russian Army, which is fighting against the Bolshevism…is now existing practically upon American flour and bacon.”[31] The Whites used this advantage to secure a number of early victories in the civil war.

The editors of the Messenger, keenly aware of their government’s role in Russia, denounced US intervention in the region. They cheered when the 339th “Polar Bear” infantry mutinied in Siberia.[32] Owen and Randolph also printed attacks on the blockade by other Black radicals. The Convention of National Brotherhood Workers of America (CNBW), a Black labor federation founded by Randolph, passed a resolution in support of the Bolsheviks, calling for an end to the Russian Blockade, and demanding “the withdrawal of all troops from Russia.” The resolution, which came out of a committee Chandler Owen sat on, also drew explicit parallels between American intervention in Russia and the French blockade of Haiti following the victory of “the black democracy…led by Toussaint L’Overture.” The CNBW resolutions crystallize the kind of transnational political identity that Randolph and Owen were constructing. While Haiti may seem an obvious source of inspiration for American Blacks, Russia certainly was not. As the resolutions illustrate, however, Black radicals, led by the Messenger, considered both fecund political and rhetorical resources. The resolutions also demonstrate how support for the Bolsheviks could dovetail with opposition to the US government at home. In supporting the Soviets against US invasion, the CNBW resolution calls the American military intervention “not only wanton, unjust, and imperialistic, but also unconstitutional.” [33] Not only did the Bolshevik example provide morale for the editors of the Messenger, but in defending it, they found another front on which to attack their own government.

By 1920, Randolph and Owen were confident that the military threat to Lenin’s government had been overcome. In the March issue of the Messenger, they printed an ebullient editorial celebrating “The Russian Triumph.” In it they marked the defeat of several of the most important White generals and mocked “the Czarist minions and their capitalistic supporters in France, Great Britain, the United States, Japan, and other countries” who “placed their money on the wrong horse.”[34] In the September issue W.A. Domingo gloated that “Bolshevist armies are winning in Western Europe and undermining the great imperialist nations France and England.”[35] To the Messenger group, it appeared that the march of the Soviet government was all but unstoppable.

While it was true that the Bolsheviks emerged victorious from their struggle with the Whites, they did so at a terrible cost. The Russian working class, the base of the Bolshevik regimes’ support, had declined from 3,024,000 industrial workers in 1917 to 1,480,000 in 1920. At the same time, exchange between town and country was only at 12% of its pre-war level. The food ration dropped as low as 60 grams of bread for two days.[36] While the Messenger editors could celebrate the defeat of the Whites for now, the conditions in Russia had been paved for the negation of the October Revolution.

The existence of such conditions, however, did not stop Randolph and Owen from still looking to Russia and the world revolutionary movement as sources for inspiration in the struggle for Black liberation at home. The October 1920 issue of the Messenger contained updates on the revolutionary situation across the Atlantic. In Italy, “workers have seized the metal factories and mines” and are “beginning the establishment of a Soviet state.” In Germany “the present government will not only pass, but its successor must represent either the right wing…or the left wing of revolution – Communism.” Throughout this turmoil, Randolph and Owen pointed to the Soviet Army as a resource which revolutionaries across Europe could count on for aid.[37]

At the same time as they encouraged revolutionary movements across Europe to look to Russia, Randolph and Owen were encouraging African-Americans to do the same. In the same October issue, they published an article by Henry Borst entitled “Why Negroes Should Study About Russia.” Borst argued, in an article remarkably similar to one Lenin had written in 1913,[38] that since both African-Americans and Russian serfs were emancipated at roughly the same time, they were at similar points in their struggle for freedom. As the Russians had recently liberated themselves from “the czar’s political tyranny, the robbery of the capitalistic blood suckers, and the blighting mental curse of superstition,” they were pointing the way forward for Blacks in America. Borst argued for Russia’s centrality to global revolution, declaring that “understanding Russia” was key to workers, “white or black,” being able to “see through the capitalistic war making game.”[39] The thesis that capitalists divided white and black workers to conquer each had been a theme in American antiracism ever since Frederick Douglass’ brilliant formulation in My Bondage and My Freedom[40]. However, the Messenger broke new ground in suggesting that the solution to this division was international in origin. By observing how Russian workers had overcome their own divisions, Randolph and Owen hoped Black and white workers in America could throw off “the muck of ages”[41] and make the revolution a reality.

Red Tides Ebb

By 1921, it began to be clear to the Black radicals around the Messenger that socialism was no longer on the agenda in the way it had been in 1921. While still celebrating Russia as the most democratic country on the planet[42], Owen and Randolph began to acknowledge that the foundations of socialism in Russia were in deep crisis. The Messenger’s pages were at the same time filled less and less with optimistic reports from working class movements across Europe. In both cases, the idea of working class power, central to Owen and Randolph’s politics, appeared further out of reach than two years earlier. Though there was no outright acknowledgment of a shift in perspective, the Messenger’s editors had clearly sensed the changing winds.

They were paralleled in this realization by the Third World Congress of the Comintern. The Theses on the World Situation adopted therein declared ominously that ‘The first period of the post-war revolutionary movement…seems in essentials to be over.” Even worse, “[t]he leaders of the bourgeoisie…have gone over to an offensive against the workers in all countries”[43] This was most obvious in Germany and Italy, where two of the strongest workers’ movements were located. In both countries, the revolutionary movement sustained crushing defeats in 1920-1921. Whereas only a few months earlier workers’ power had seemed on the table, now both countries faced a rising fascist movement. As the Messenger group had looked to the global revolutionary movement as a source of both morale and theoretical strength, the movement’s downturn limited the resources on which Black radicals in America could draw.

Owen and Randolph’s initial response upon recognizing this downturn was to mount a defensive campaign centered on aid for the Soviet Union. Crucially, this campaign was conjoined with the recognition that “Soviet Russia…is the only hope of a new mankind.”[44] The fact that the socialist movement had entered a downturn did not immediately lead to an abandonment of the revolutionary principles which had made the Messenger famous. Indeed, Owen and Randolph threw themselves into the campaign for Russia aid with their typical polemical vigor.

One of the first articles to address the subject of aid for Russia was the September 1921 editorial “Hoover and Relief for Soviet Russia.” Recounting how Herbert Hoover made the release of American counterrevolutionaries a precondition for food aid, Owen and Randolph emphasized the reasonability of the Soviet government in acquiescing to such a request. At the same time that they condemned the actions of “the Food Dictator,” the Messenger editors also used the issue as a platform around which to draw workers in America. They ended their article with a call:

Let the American workers, white and black, Jew and Gentile, combine to drive the gaunt specter of starvation from the confines of the first Workers’ Republic![45]

Even at the beginning of what was clearly a period of retreat for socialists, Randolph and Owen were still using the Russian Revolution as a tool with which to organize working class radicalism in America.

The Messenger’s next issue elaborated on the same theme of imperialist culpability for Soviet deprivation. In an editorial Owen and Randolph praised the relief efforts of organized labor, to whom they attributed the motive of “maintaining the first workers’ republic of the world.” Whether or not such motives really were at the heart of the Russian relief effort, by constructing them as such the Messenger editors could maintain their argument that revolution was still on the agenda for the workers’ movement. At the same time that they praised organized labor, they also attacked the counterrevolutionary relief efforts of the imperialist countries, noting that “[h]ad the Russian people not been compelled to fight the United States, France, Great Britain, Poland, and nearly all the surrounding states…the Russian people would be fairly well able to take care of their own needs.”[46]

Randolph and Owen also sought to inject transnational revolutionary politics into the debates they had with the key trade unionists of the day. In their August 1921 issue, the editors had condemned the American Federation of Labor’s convention on a number of issues, including failing to condemn the Ku Klux Klan and opposing trade with Russia. In the October issue, convention delegate Louis Langer wrote to the Messenger to defend the federation. Langer wrote that he was not “ready to defend the Convention in its attitude of opposing trade relations with Russia. This is a problem that need be discussed by a political economist.”[47] Randolph and Owen excoriated Langer for this agnosticism, replying that it is no “more imperative that one be a political economist, in order to know that trade is essential to the life of a nation than it is imperative for one to be a physician in order to know that blood is essential to human life.” They then went on to list the reasons why American labor should be in support of the Soviet state. First among these was that “it is to the interest of Labor, everywhere, that the first Workers’ Republic of the world should live.” Here Randolph and Owen’s analysis of the interests of American workers, Black and white, posited Russia as a key source of strength for the American labor movement. In their words, “it is also an inspiration to labor everywhere, ever to strive for its emancipation from capitalist slavery.”[48] Just as Owen and Randolph themselves drew upon the Russian Revolution for political inspiration, so they advocated that the workers’ movement in America do the same. In the project of building a labor movement that was transnational in scope, Owen and Randolph saw the Russian Revolution as a key event around which to organize.

The Russian Revolution did not serve merely as an inspirational tool, however. Just as they used the politics surrounding the workers’ republic to attack their own government, Randolph and Owen also used those politics to attack their political rivals at home. Chief among these rivals was Marcus Garvey. While commentators on the Messenger have all recognized the centrality of the struggle against Garveyism to the magazine’s politics, none have brought up the key role that transnational, Bolshevik politics played in the feud. In the January, 1922, article “Black Zionism,” Randolph uses Garvey’s own image of a “Black Emperor” of Africa against him. “A Negro Emperor,” Randolph wrote, “would be no less ruthless, brutal, and despotic to Negro subjects than was Czar Nicholas to the Russian Moujiks, which finally resulted in the Russian Revolution.”[49] Randolph’s rhetorical linkage of Garvey with the czar illustrates the degree to which he had built his own political identity with transnational components. While there were certainly any number of examples of autocracy Randolph could choose from inside the United States, he chose as his political simile the man who the Bolsheviks helped to topple. This was the image Randolph hoped would most galvanize American workers against Garvey. Given the Messenger’s efforts at bringing a transnational perspective into American working class politics, this hope is hardly surprising.

The Messenger group also used the practices of the Bolshevik state as a foundation on which to build their own political ethics. In their struggle to have Marcus Garvey deported, Randolph and Owen used the Soviet deportation of counterrevolutionaries to justify their own advocacy of the practice. Chandler Owen’s September 1922 article “Should Marcus Garvey Be Deported?” quoted from an Associated Press article detailing the sentencing of 1,500 “intellectuals” to exile in August of that year. In Owen’s words, “Even the Communists favor deportation.”[50] When looking for sources of legitimacy for their politics, Randolph and Owen considered the Soviet state to be a resource on which to draw.

While Randolph and Owen were drawing on the radical politics of the Soviet Union, they were harnessing those politics to the profoundly reactionary end of trying to have a political activist deported on the basis of his nationality. Such a political demand was well within the bounds of the discourse of racist antiradicalism, used during the Palmer raids to deport thousands of foreign-born radicals. What Barbara Foley has called the “Messenger’s borrowing from the wartime discourse of the nativists”[51] served to bring Randolph and Owen into alignment with those forces which they had previously struggled against. The editors even went so far as to “agree to provide [a government agent] with any information that might damage Garvey.” In addition to aligning Owen and Randolph with the state, their campaign also led them to argue a view of American society which was deeply discordant with their earlier radical politics. In his letter urging Garvey’s deportation, Owen argued that Garvey was “a menace to harmonious race relationships.”[52] Such harmony was no where to be found in the Messenger’s description of race relations before Garvey’s rise.

By 1923 the Messenger’s articles would make it clear that Randolph and Owen no longer viewed the Soviet Union as a nation leading the fight for working class power, but instead a state as fallible as any other. Chandler Owen’s reply to a letter from W.A. Domingo accused the latter of “accept[ing] every dot of the ‘i’ and crossing of the ‘t’”[53] from Moscow. This standard anticommunist accusation would have been unthinkable in a magazine which six months ago had used Bolshevism as the grounds on which to build working class movements in the United States. Later references to Russia in that year reveal how the Messenger’s analysis of the workers’ state had changed. In the April issue of that year Randolph and Owen carried a report on Claude McKay’s address to the Fourth Congress of the Comintern. There they unenthusiastically reported that “resolutions were adopted in the interests of Negro emancipation.” The Messenger’s pronounced lack of enthusiasm towards the resolutions was not a result of the resolutions themselves, which declared “the Negro problem has become a vital question of the world revolution” and “The Communist International will use every instrument…to compel the trade unions to admit Negro workers to membership.”[54] Such resolutions were major steps forward in Comintern policy. Randolph and Owen’s disinclination towards celebrating them must be a result of a shifting attitude towards Moscow.

This shifting attitude is also evident in the April 1923 editorial advocating recognition of Russia and the resumption of trade. However, unlike earlier such editorials where trade was to be the lifeline of the workers’ republic, here Randolph and Owen argue that Soviet moves to the right mean that recognition would be no threat to American capitalists. Given Soviet Russia’s “disposition to recognize the rights of private property,” the United States would be “simply recognizing a state nominally under workers’ control which recognizes the methods of capitalism.” To recognize the reality of the erosion of workers’ control in Russia was a significant analytical step for the Messenger’s editors. However, they went even further, arguing that such moves to the right were the correct course for the Russian state to take. Whereas once Russia pointed the way towards the future, “[t]he march of events in Russia has shown that Russia is not yet ready for Communism.”[55]

This assertion radically changed the political terrain on which Randolph and Owen stood. The idea that the Russia Revolution pointed the way forward for Black politics in America had been a central support for their advocacy of revolutionary politics. With this support gone, Randolph and Owen had fewer theoretical resources on which to draw in arguing for working class revolution in America.

This change, however, was not simply the result of a belated recognition of Soviet fallibility on the part of the Messenger’s editors. Real changes in the revolutionary situation world wide put pressure on the beliefs Randolph and Owen held. In Russia, decimated by the civil war and economic blockade, “the Bolshevik Party…found itself ruling, in the name of a class which had effectively ceased to exist, over a population largely made up of small-holding peasants whose natural suspicions of government were reinforced by the regime’s commitment to collective rather than private ownership.”[56] After the decimation of the working class through starvation and war, these small-holding peasants constituted a major social force with which to be dealt. The New Economic Policy designed to do this effectively reintroduced markets to placate the peasants. Such reintroductions meant the erosion of democratic workers’ control. In the face of this, Randolph and Owen’s expectations for global revolution could not help but be diminished.

The working class movement was also in decline internationally, partially as a result of strategic errors on the parts of the various communist parties. Much of the responsibility for these errors lies with Gregory Zinoviev, head of the Comintern. C.L.R. James provides an excellent summary of Zinoviev’s influence in Germany:

Zinoviev…always unstable and lacking the patience so characteristic of the great revolutionaries, had been disappointed by the failures of the workers since November, 1918, and had developed a new theory, the theory of the offensive – desperate attack by the Communist Party and the vanguard, by this means to electrify the great mass.[57]

Zinoviev sought to apply this same theory, against Lenin’s objections, in America as well. His lack of regard for different national conditions was a major factor in Randolph and Owen’s alienation from the Communist Party.

This alienation does not then demonstrate, as Paula Pfeffer has argued, Randolph’s intransigent political nationalism. Instead, the October 1923 issue, which heaped scorn on the African Blood Brotherhood and “St. Zinoviev of the Third International,”[58] is illustrative of the Messenger’s critical engagement with international political forces. As this chapter has shown, Randolph and Owen were constantly seeking theoretical support and inspiration from outside of America. When it became clear that such support was no longer coming, they reacted by closing ranks and advocating what they thought to be a more realistic political perspective in the current period.

The coda of the Messenger’s engagement with the Russian Revolution is the obituary for Lenin published in March, 1924. The article lauded approbation upon the fallen Soviet leader, pronouncing him “the intellectual colossus of the statesmen of his period.” It also noted the conflicts Lenin had had with leaders such as Zinoviev, commending his struggle against the “infantile irrational leftism which impregnated the Third Internationale.” The article closed by arguing Lenin was the premier of “the first great workers’ republic.”[59] These statements clearly complicate any simple notion of the Messenger abandoning revolutionary politics because it was so nationalist it couldn’t take directions from outside. Randolph and Owen looked to Lenin as a visionary who had built a socialist government. However, the failure of that government, and of the revolutionary movement in general, changed their views on what the possible and desirable politics of human emancipation should be, placing them on a path which led off the political terrain of the New Negro movement.



[1] Theodore Kornweibel, Seeing Red: Federal Campaigns Against Black Militancy,1919-1925 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998), 76

[2] The Messenger, March 1919, 4

[3] Jervis Anderson, A. Philip Randolph: A Biographical Portrait (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973), 89

[4] Anderson, 138

[5] Paula Pfeffer, A. Philip Randolph: Pioneer of the Civil Rights Movement (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1990), 17-18

[6] Anderson 76.

[7] Qtd in ibid.

[8] Messenger, November 1917, 8

[9] See Alexander Rabinowitch, The Bolsheviks Come to Power¸ Chs. 7-8 for a detailed account of the coup and its defeat.

[10] Messenger November 1917, 32

[11] Qtd. In David Mandel, The Petrograd Workers and the Fall of the Old Regime: From the February Revolution to the July Days, 1917 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1984), 67.

[12] Messenger January 1918, 7

[13] Messenger January 1918, 17

[14] Messenger July 1918, 9

[15] Messenger July 1918, 19

[16] Isaac Deutscher, The Prophet Armed – Trotsky, 1879-1921, (New York: Vintage Books, 1965), 350, 352.

[17] Messenger July 1918,20

[18] Kornweibel, 84.

[19] Qtd. In Kornweibel, 82

[20] Theodor Kornweibel No Crystal Stair: Black Life and the Messenger.Westport: Greenwood Press, 1975. Pg 61

[21] Messenger March 1919, 5

[22] Messenger May-June 1919, 8

[23] Tony Cliff Trotsky: 1917-1923: Sword of the Revolution (London: Pluto Press, 1990), 211

[24] Messenger August 1919, 5-6

[25] Messenger May-June 1919, 22

[26] It should be noted that the struggle in support of the Lefts in the SP was also a struggle against racism, as the Right wing was often openly pro-lynching. See Ahmed Shawki, Black Liberation and Socialism, 128-188. However, Randolph and Owen do not frame the issue around race in their article.

[27] Messenger September 1919, 26-27

[28] Crisis September 1919, 231.

[29] David S. Foglesong, America’s Secret War against Bolshevism: U.S. Intervention in the Russian Civil War, 1917-1920 , (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1995), 248.

[30] John Rees, “In Defense of October,” International Socialism 52 (1991): 31.

[31] Qtd. in Foglesong, 232.

[32] Messenger October 1919, 8

[33] ibid 18.

[34] Messenger March 1920, 3

[35] Messenger September 1920, 86

[36] Marcel Liebman Leninism Under Lenin (London: J. Cape, 1975), 345-347.

[37] Messenger October 1920, 105

[38] Vladimir Lenin, “Russians and Negroes,” in Lenin on the United States (New York: International Publishers, 1970), 58.

[39] Messenger October 1920, 110.

[40] Frederick Douglass, My Bondage and My Freedom, ed. William L. Andrews (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1987), 188.

[41] Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The German Ideology (New York: International Publishers, 2004), 95.

[42] Messenger August 1921, 226. For evaluations of Soviet Democracy, see Kevin Murphy Revolution and Counterrevolution: Class Struggle in a Moscow Metal Factory. (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2007), and Liebman 1975.

[43] “Extracts from the Theses on the World Situation and the Tasks of the Comintern adopted by the Third Comintern Congress” in Jane Degras, Ed. The Communist International 1919-1943 Documents, Vol. I (London: Oxford University Press, 1956), 230.

[44] Messenger September 1921, 243.

[45] ibid

[46] Messenger October 1921, 258.

[47] Ibid, 267.

[48] Ibid, 268

[49] Messenger January 1922, 334.

[50] Messenger September 1922, 479

[51] Foley 109.

[52] Qtd in Kornweibel 98.

[53] Messenger March 1923, 642

[54] Qtd. in William J. Maxwell New Negro, Old Left: African-American Writing and Communism Between the Wars (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999), 90

[55] Messenger April 1923, 657

[56] Alex Callinicos, Trotskyism (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1990), 12

[57] C.L.R. James, World Revolution 1917-1936, The Rise and Fall of the Communist International (New York: Pioneer Publishers, 1937), 167.

[58] Messenger October 1923, 830

[59] Messenger March 1924, 69

Why I've Been MIA

Well my master's thesis is done, and for the edification of my legions of readers I'll be posting it here. It's on the Russian Revolution and the Harlem Renaissance.

Introduction

In 1925, Alain Locke, assistant professor of Philosophy at Howard University, proclaimed the birth of the New Negro. Writing in a collection edited by himself and entitled The New Negro, Locke sought to “document the New Negro culturally and socially,-to register the transformations of the inner and outer life of the Negro in America that have so significantly taken place in the last few years.” Eschewing any formal attempt at a definition, Locke sought to produce a work of the New Negro, rather than about him. Nonetheless, Locke’s introductory chapter provides a glimpse of what he meant by the term. Above all, for Locke the New Negro represents “a fresh spiritual and cultural focusing,” “an unusual outburst of creative expression.” The New Negro is thus a man of arts and letters, newly concerned with achieving a previously absent self-understanding through the medium of artistic production. That production, in addition to heightening the spiritual and intellectual life of African-Americans, would also lead to “the revaluation by white and black alike of the Negro in terms of his artistic endowments and cultural contributions,” or so Locke hoped. In short, for Alain Locke the New Negro was the Black artist, leading the charge for racial uplift by demonstrating to both Black and white folks the value of the African-American mind.[1]

This conception of the New Negro has remained the dominant one, not only defining the values of Black art in Locke’s time but, as Anthony Dawahare remarks, “to this day…direct[ing] popular views toward African-American literature and life.”[2] In 1925, however, Locke was not so much defining a new term as trying to gain new control over an old one. The term New Negro had been in use since the 1890s, but it achieved new currency in Black America in the years following World War I. These years witnessed the rise of a number of new and radical Black political movements, which described themselves and each other as “the New Crowd Negro” or simply, “the New Negro.” These movements coalesced around a number of shared values and strategies, including self-defense against lynchings, sympathy with international revolutionary movements, and a focus on the Black working class. In the spirit of their militant opposition to political or intellectual passivity, these movements quickly produced their own definitions of the New Negro.

One of the first of these definitions was written by Hubert Henry Harrison. Though little-known today, Harrison was described by his contemporaries as “the foremost Afro-American intellect of his time.”[3] Known as “the Father of Harlem Radicalism,”[4] Harrison’s was the most authoritative voice with which the movement could be described. Situating the New Negro’s rise in the “spirit of democratic striving…making itself felt” all over the world, Harrison declared the death of the “good old days” when “the mere mention of the name Lincoln or the Republican Party” was sufficient to win Black votes. In contrast to this, “[t]he new Negro leader must be chosen by his fellows – by those whose strivings he is supposed to represent.” For Harrison, these strivings consisted primarily of organizing Black Americans into “a politically independent party” in the model of “the Swadesha movement of India and the Sinn Fein movement of Ireland.” Noting that both movements’ names translated to “ourselves alone,’ Harrison proposed that Black Americans should adopt a similar motto. The New Negro would achieve freedom not through artistic expression, but through political struggle.[5]

Just as Locke’s New Negro has displaced Harrison’s in our cultural memory, so a similar displacement has occurred with Marcus Garvey. Today Marcus Garvey is remembered as the founder of the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), the largest Black nationalist organization in world history. Less commonly known are Garvey’s extensive links to the “Labor Left” of the early twentieth century. While the black, red, and green colors of the UNIA flag are often today explained as "red representing the noble blood that unites all people of African ancestry, the colour black for the people, green for the rich land of Africa,” Garvey himself once argued that the red in the UNIA’s flag “showed their sympathy with the ‘Reds’ of the world, and the Green their sympathy for the Irish in their fight for freedom.”[6] Even Tony Martin, Garvey’s most nationalist biographer, concedes that the Jamaican leader had at least a “cordial relationship”[7] with the Left until at least 1919. As we shall see, Martin’s description greatly underplays the actual degree to which Leftist politics were central to the New Negro movement, of which the UNIA was a major part.

One of the common threads linking the differing wings of the New Negro movement, from Garvey’s nationalist UNIA to the Communist-leaning African Blood Brotherhood (ABB), was a tremendous enthusiasm for the Russian Revolution of 1917. Indeed, neither the New Negro movement itself, nor Locke’s New Negro which followed it, can be understood without a focus on the impact the Russian Revolution had on both the movement’s formation and its dissolution. To use a metaphor often employed by A. Philip Randolph to describe the revolution at the time, the Bolshevik victory was Banquo’s Ghost, a specter which would continue to haunt both the New Negro movement and the Harlem Renaissance which followed.[8]

Though historians of Black radicalism commonly acknowledge the importance of the revolution, no one has yet produced a sustained investigation of its impact in Black America. The most extended discussion of the matter is Winston James’ excellent, although brief, four page examination of the African Blood Brotherhood’s The Crusader and its relation to the Soviets,[9] although fleeting references to the revolution are present in nearly all works discussing the period. This study aims to use the work of scholars like James as a starting point from which to begin a more extended investigation into how the Russian Revolution influenced both the rise and the fall of the New Negro movement.

In discussing the movement’s rise and fall, Raymond Williams’ concepts of the dominant, the residual, and the emergent are extremely useful in differentiating the various degrees of influence the Leftist politics in general and the Russian Revolution in particular had at various points in time. Williams formulated these concepts as a method of breaking from what he called “epochal” analysis, in which “a cultural process is seized as a cultural system, with determinate dominant features,” such as the system of feudal culture. This approach, however, fails to “recognize the complex interrelations between movements and tendencies both within and beyond a specific and effective dominance.” Thus a systemic analysis of capitalist culture, while invaluable to situating the New Negro movement, is itself insufficient to provide a framework with which to examine the contradictions and connections within the movement itself. This is where the concepts of dominant, residual, and emergent are indispensable.[10]

The dominant is perhaps the most self-evident term, referring to the generalized hegemony present in any class society. The residual and the emergent, however, are conceptual tools for both locating different traditions, institutions, and formations within a hegemonic system, as well as elucidating their relationship to dominant structures. For the purposes of this study, I will focus on defining the residual, invoking as it does a certain spectrality of something left behind. Williams is careful to differentiate the residual from the archaic, noting that while the archaic is “wholly recognized as an element of the past,” the residual “has been effectively formed in the past,” but “is still active in the cultural process, not only and often not at all as an element of the past, but as an effective element of the present.” Williams cites the way organized religion functions in modern capitalist society as an example of the interrelations between the dominant and the residual. While some oppositional values and meanings produced by present day society find expression primarily through residual aspects of religion (“absolute brotherhood, service to others without reward”), other aspects of religion have been incorporated into the dominant culture (“official morality, the social order of which the other-worldly is a separated neutralizing or ratifying component”). Thus traditions, institutions, and formations can contain both residual aspects and ones which have come to serve an essentially hegemonic function.[11]

My own usage of Williams’ terminology is slightly different from his in so far as one cannot speak simply of “the dominant” in reference to African-American life. While aspects of Black ideologies and institutions may serve to reproduce hegemonic relations, they are always tempered by their exclusion from a white supremacist society. Even Alain Locke’s profoundly conservative ideology of racial uplift through artistic achievement is a counter-hegemonic discourse to the official racism of American society. In this work, then, when I refer to the dominant I am referring not to the hegemonic values of white supremacist America, but to the dominant institutions and ideologies within Black America, with the understanding that these structures are always of at least a partially counter-hegemonic character.

The focus of this study, the New Negro movement, was one of the most counter-hegemonic formations in Black American history, taking its place alongside the “general strike” of the slaves which ended the Civil War and the Black Power movement of the 1960s. Before examining the interrelations between the movement and the Russian Revolution, it’s important to have some understanding of the conjunctural determinants which produced such a decisively oppositional movement. Indeed, the New Negro movement aimed at an overhaul of American society the depth of which hadn’t been attempted since the most radical days of reconstruction. In order to understand from where this radicalism emerged, the rest of this chapter will be dedicated to both defining the New Negro movement and examining the determinants which allowed it to form.

Ernest Allen Jr.’s article, “The New Negro: Explorations in Identity and Social Consciousness, 1910-1922,” provides a useful starting point for any attempt at defining the New Negro movement. In tracing the movement’s rise, Allen lists five characteristics shared by all wings of the movement. They are: 1.) an identification with the Black working class; 2.) an insistence upon self-determination for African peoples; 3.) a desire for autonomous African-American organization; 4.) a belief in Black entrepreneurship; and 5.) the “internationalist outlook” of the New Negro activists who refused “to view the African-American struggle for self-dignity and social justice in the United States in isolation from similar struggles occurring throughout the globe.” Commenting on this last characteristic, Allen notes that “[i]t would be difficult to overestimate the impact of these anti-colonial struggles, and especially the Russian Revolution, on New Negro radicalization.” Though obviously the last is of the most importance to the present study, all of Allen’s characteristics are important in differentiating the New Negro activists from the older civil rights leadership. Thus while the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) shared with the New Negroes a belief in entrepreneurship, they did not share either a belief in autonomous organization or a focus on the Black working class.[12]

Although Allen’s definition of the New Negro movement includes a variety of groups and actors, I have chosen to focus on three organizations (and their respective publications) to examine the Russian Revolution’s impact on the New Negro. They are Marcus Garvey’s UNIA and the Negro World, the African Blood Brotherhood (most commonly associated with Cyril Briggs) and the Crusader, and the Black socialists A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen’s Messenger.

While Allen provides an excellent definition of New Negro politics, it lacks a necessary temporal component. The New Negro movement occurred in a specific time period, from America’s entry into WWI until the rise of the Harlem Renaissance. Though the 1960s would see the rise of several Black militant organizations which would fit Allen’s categories, yet this is not an example of a residual social process in which the New Negro movement is still active, but instead a new moment in Black radicalism. It is thus necessary to provide a temporal definition of the movement as well as a political one. The year 1917 marks the beginning of the conjuncture in which the New Negro movement formed. Not only was this the year of the Russian Revolution, but it also was the year of the United States’ entry into World War I. The American declaration of war had a number of consequences of decisive importance to the formation of the New Negro movement, as we will see later in this chapter. Beyond this, however, the American declaration of war provoked a schism in the Black political community, with older leaders supporting the war and a number of younger activists opposing it.[13] This divide would eventually become the divide between the New Negroes and the so-called “Old Crowd” Negroes. Many of the New Negroes came to define themselves in opposition to the traditional Black leadership in the context of the debate over World War I.

If 1917 marks the birth of the New Negro movement, by 1924 it had basically collapsed. As the year of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin’s death, it symbolically[14] marked the close of a period in Soviet history of unprecedented democracy and working class power[15]. The inspiration New Negro leaders took from the Russian Revolution was decisively changed and channeled by the changes in the Soviet Union after Lenin’s death. On the domestic front, the New Negro movement had also lost most of its internal coherence by 1924. Marcus Garvey had just been convicted of mail fraud (with the help of former New Negro comrades Cyril Briggs and A. Philip Randolph) and was facing time in federal prison. Randolph and Owen’s Messenger was now declaring that neither Russia nor the United States were ready for socialism. And the leadership of the African Blood Brotherhood had by and large dissolved itself into the American Communist Party (then called the Workers’ Party). In short, the New Negro movement had ceased to be a coherent formation, opening the door for Alain Locke’s culturalist strategy to take its place.

These temporal markers, combined with Allen’s political demarcations, form a basis by which to define the New Negro movement. Necessary as definitions are, however, I find determinations to be more interesting. The determinants of the New Negro movement allow us to explain why it is defined in the way it is. The remainder of this chapter will thus be spent examining the six crucial determinants that allowed the New Negro movement to form. They are 1.) the Great Migration of African-Americans from the South to the North; 2.) the immigration and radicalism of Caribbean immigrants to Harlem; 3.) the postwar disillusionment of Black veterans; 4.) the explosion of class struggle in the United States following the war; 5.) the “Red Summer” of 1919, in which African-Americans were lynched in nearly unmatched numbers; and 6.) the impact of the Russian Revolution and the global revolutionary movement.

The Great Migration

The “Great Migration”[16] of African-Americans out of the American South in the first decades of the twentieth century has been a consistent feature of African-American historiography for decades now, and with good reason. Over the course of the twentieth century, Black migration from the South has completely transformed the nation’s racial geography. In 1900, a mere 740,000 African-Americans lived in the North, 8 percent of total Black population. From 1900 to 1920, almost 640,000 Black folks left the South, nearly doubling the amount living in the North. Immigrants from the South overwhelmingly settled in urban areas. Chicago’s Black population increased by 148.2 percent from 1910 to 1920. In the same period, Black Detroit grew by 611.3 percent. It was the same throughout the North: Indianapolis, 59 percent; Cincinnati, 53.2 percent, and Pittsburgh, 47.2 percent. Similarly, Manhattan went from a Black population of 60,000 in 1910 to about 300,000 in 1923, a fivefold increase. [17]

The roots of this migration were many. James Gregory has argued against the “hydrological” impulse in migration studies, which reduces migration to a balancing out of economic opportunities. While the increased economic opportunities of the North were certainly a factor in promoting Black migration, they are “a context, not an explanation.”[18] David Levering Lewis points out the powerful role the Chicago Defender had in encouraging migration from the South; nearly 1.3 million Black Americans were reading the paper’s national edition every week. Stewart Tolnay and E.M. Beck has drawn attention to the intimate link between lynching and migration in the South, calculating that each lynching could be predicted to produce a definite outflow of African-Americans.[19] In short, the Black migration from the South cannot be reduced to a matter of economics.

That said, economics were a powerful motivation for leaving the South. In the North, Black wages averaged between $3.00 and $3.60 a day, with steelworkers earning up to $4.50. Less than four percent of Black folks in the South could expect $3.00 a day. Even top-tier Southern Black workers, such as steelworkers in Birmingham, only made $2.50 a day.[20] The roots of this flowering of Black economic opportunity in the North were the massive restriction of international immigration brought on by World War I. From 1.2 million foreign workers entering the country in 1914, immigration levels sank to only a little above one hundred thousand in 1917. With industrial production accelerated to meet war needs, Northern capitalists opened up jobs to Southern African-Americans for the first time. Even here, however, where economics were undoubtedly a large factor, the hydrological metaphor of immigration flows fails. The Northern industrialists seeking African-Americans to fill their positions often went out of their way to cajole workers North, sending agents South to promote the jobs and even going so far as supplying transportation for entire families moving North.

Black radicals were a part of this migration. Chandler Owen and A. Philip Randolph, for example, were both transplanted Southerners, Randolph from Florida and Owen from North Carolina. The factors above contributed to them meeting each other in Harlem in 1915. More than simply increasing the chances of radicals meeting each other, the Great Migration led to a concentrated population of African-Americans in Harlem, allowing radicals both unprecedented audiences as well as opportunities for collaboration. Joyce Moore Turner and W. Burghardt Turner summarize the geographical result of this concentration on the New Negro movement:

It was a matter of steps between the offices of Randolph and Owen’s Messenger at 2305 Seventh Avenue, William Bridges’ Challenger at 2305 Seventh Avenue, Cyril Briggs’ Crusader at 2299 Seventh Avenue, and Marcus Garvey’s Negro World at 56 West 135th Street, and no more than a few blocks to homes, soapbox corners, and meeting halls of the African Blood Brotherhood, the Universal Negro Improvement Association, the Liberty League, and other militant organizations.[21]

Without the population growth brought on by the Great Migration, the New Negro movement would never have been able to cohere.

Caribbean Migration

Southerners seeking to escape Jim Crow jobs and justice weren’t the only ones heading to Harlem in the early twentieth century. Caribbean immigrants were increasingly looking to the United States as a refuge from the combination of natural disasters and poverty in the islands. A cursory look at the leaders of the New Negro movement reveals just how central of a role these migrants played: Marcus Garvey, from Jamaica; Wilfred Adolphus Domingo, editor of the Negro World, also from Jamaica; Richard B. Moore, member of the ABB and later Communist Party, from Barbados; Cyril Briggs, editor of the Crusader, from St. Kitts; and Hubert Henry Harrison, from St Croix.

The prominence of Caribbean migrants within Harlem radicalism was the product of an extraordinary wave of immigration from the West Indies into the United States that paralleled the Great Migration from the South. While in 1899 only 411 Black migrants (80% of whom were Caribbean) came to the United States, by 1924 12,000 were arriving annually. This influx of people changed the racial landscape of Harlem such that by 1930 nearly a quarter of its Black population was of Caribbean origin.[22]

In tracing the roots and routes of this migration, I must acknowledge my debt to Winston James’ groundbreaking Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia. What follows is primarily a summary of James’ arguments, although I cannot hope to approximate the detail or rigor of his discussion. James sets forth two primary avenues of explanation for the predominance of Caribbeans in early Black radicalism: why there was such a massive wave of Caribbean immigration in the early twentieth century, and why those migrants had tendencies towards radical leadership. Both of these arguments are necessary for understanding the Caribbean role in the New Negro movement.

In tracing the causes of Caribbean migration, James draws an important differentiation between the various islands in order to caution against overbroad generalizations. Those leaving Jamaica did not necessarily leave for the same reasons as those from Barbados. However, both islands, the two major sources of Caribbean immigrants to America, did share a commonality in the ruin sugar cultivation brought to their laboring classes. The monocultural sugar economies of the two islands were nearly brought to ruin in the eighteenth century by a variety of factors, most notably competition from Brazilian and Cuban plantations and subsidized beet sugar from England. The collapse of the islands’ sugar trade brought different responses from both islands, though both served to instill their workers with a desire to leave. In Jamaica, sugar was replaced by bananas, an irrigation heavy crop which brought a highly increased risk of malaria. In addition, the banana boom further concentrated land ownership such that “by the mid 1890s, 81 individuals had become the owners of no less than 97 percent of the area of rural land offered by the government.”[23] The unavailability of land provided a strong incentive for migration. The Barbardian ruling class had a simpler solution to the crash in sugar prices: work laborers harder and pay them less, a strategy similarly conducive to emigration.

In addition to changes in the islands’ political economy, the Caribbean also suffered an almost freakishly concentrated series of natural disasters (compounded by unnatural social relations which exacerbated their impact) in the late nineteenth century. In the two hundred and ninety years between 1685 and 1975, Jamaica was hit by hurricanes on average once every 7.8 years. Between 1915 and 1917, three hurricanes hit, a frequency usually requiring a period of at least twenty years. Hurricanes combined with drought and tropical storms to wreak havoc on the island’s banana crop. In 1907, an earthquake hit Kingston, causing two and a half million pounds worth of damage. As James concludes, “[r]arely have so many catastrophes…followed one another with such rapidity and desctructiveness.”[24]

Migrants seeking to escape the deprivation of the Caribbean shared an unusual disposition towards radicalism, so much so that Howard University professor Kelly Miller once (half) jokingly described a Negro radical as “an over-educated West Indian without a job.”[25] Though exaggerating, Miller was identifying a real tendency. A whole host of circumstances came together to shape Caribbean migrants’ proclivity for radicalism. Though again I cannot do justice to Winston James’ work on the subject, his analysis does yield several important identifiable factors.

First is the racial downgrading Black Caribbeans experienced upon entry to America. Raised in majority Black countries where color lines were not nearly so rigid, Caribbeans were almost universally amazed at the depth of American racism. Not used to the tactics of racial survival gleaned from life on one side of the veil, Caribbean migrants could be “suicidally frank” when dealing with American white supremacy. This refusal to “mask” ones’ rage at an oppressive social system helps explain the emphasis many Caribbean New Negroes placed on active self-defense and retaliation for lynching.[26]

Second, Caribbean migrants had no historic attachment to either of the bourgeois political parties in America. As members of the party of Lincoln, Republican politicians thought that they were simply entitled to Black votes (in the North). This entitlement was reciprocated by Booker T. Washington’s Tuskegee machine, the most powerful Black political institution in early twentieth century America. The Tuskegee machine sought to use its leverage to silence any Black voice attempting to go beyond Washington’s narrow political vision. Hubert Henry Harrison, for example, found himself fired from his post office job after criticizing Washington in a letter to the New York Times.[27] Caribbean migrants coming from outside the hegemony of the Washington machine were more likely to attempt to go beyond its political limits.

Finally, migrants from the British Caribbean retained an essentially Victorian conception of virtue which included a heavy emphasis on culture as cultivating ones’ knowledge. This translated into an extraordinary bibliophilia on the part of many migrants. Richard B. Moore, for example, built “a considerable library” in his home, stuffing the china cabinets of his dining room with books.[28] Hubert Harrison claimed to regularly read six books a day, sleeping only three hours at night.[29] This extraordinary passion for reading predisposed Caribbean migrants towards leadership positions in the radical organizations they joined. Harrison, for example, became known as the Socialist Party’s most brilliant orator, able to speak for hours on any subject, while Cyril Briggs was known for his masterful polemical writing.

To summarize, Caribbean migrants to the United States played a crucial role in the development of the New Negro movement. This role was a result of both the massive influx of Caribbean immigration to the United States, and the predisposition of those migrants towards radical politics.

Postwar Disillusionment

While many New Negro activists came of political maturity in opposition to World War I, the broad radicalization in which they took part was partially influenced by the disappointments of those who had supported the Great War. W.E.B. Du Bois, for example, supported the American war effort in the (unrealized) hope that African-American bravery abroad would win better conditions at home. Relentlessly attacked by New Negro leaders for this stance, Du Bois shifted to the left after the war ended, writing his editorial “Returning Soldiers:”

Under similar circumstances, we would fight again. But by the God of heaven, we are cowards and jackasses if now that the war is over we do not marshal every ounce of our brain and brawn to fight a sterner, longer, more unbending battle against the forces of hell in our own land.

We return.

We return from fighting.

We return fighting.

Make way for democracy! We saved it in France, by the Great Jehovah, we will save it in the United States of America, or know the reason why.[30]

Activists like Du Bois (members of the traditionally conservative Black political class) reacted to the continued denial of rights at home with a newfound determination to win their equality.

Beyond intellectuals like Du Bois, many Black veterans also reacted to war’s conclusion with increasing radicalization. Chad Williams, in an excellent article on the role of veterans in the New Negro movement, argues that “the warlike nature of American race relations in the aftermath of World War I prompted many [B]lack veterans to question the meaning of their service and to seek new strategies for achieving racial justice.”[31] Black American veterans were joined by Caribbean veterans of the British military, both contributing decisively to the radicalization of the New Negro movement.

Black American veterans were prominent members of many New Negro organizations. Harry Haywood, a veteran of 370th Infantry regiment, was a leader of the African Blood Brotherhood and later the Communist Party. Victor Daly, the business manager of the Messenger, was a recipient of the French Croix de Guerre for his service abroad. Many of the officers in the UNIA’s paramilitary African Legion were also veterans of World War I.

The experience of fighting for democracy abroad while they were denied it at home highlighted for many Black veterans the contradictions of being in the United States armed forces. One veteran wrote that his service “made me realize my task which for me was here in America…after the fighting and my return to this country [the] U.S., it made me wonder why can’t all men be treated equally? What did we fight for? Democracy. Are we living it?”[32] The rhetoric of fighting for democracy had the unintended effect of raising Black troops’ expectations for the same at home.

In addition to providing a stimulus to radicalization, the veterans’ experience also served as a resource with which to fight for their goals. Victor Daly’s story is instructive of how New Negro veterans used their service as a resource. In responding to a self-described descendent of “black abolitionists” who accused the Messenger of being “deceived by the insane ravings of any Bolshevist,” Daly immediately invoked his status as a veteran, citing his two years of service and receipt of the “Croix de Guerre.” Daly’s reply declared “[C]lassify me…a former United States Army Officer, as a Bolshevist.”[33] Black veterans also used the skills they gained abroad as tools with which to defend their communities from rioting whites. Harry Haywood recounts how he and his Black comrades used their military training to establish defensive positions in Black neighborhoods during the riot of July 1919[34]. Black servicemembers’ experiences abroad served as both a strategy for legitimizing their criticisms as well as a foundation for self-defense efforts in the community.

Black Caribbean veterans similarly were radicalized by both their experience in war and their treatment upon returning home. While citizens of the British Caribbean signed up for the war in large numbers, their treatment reflected the value with which they were viewed both as soldiers and fellow citizens of the British empire. One veteran recalled how he and his comrades were reprimanded by white soldiers for singing “Rule Britannia.” The white soldiers asked them “Who gave you niggers authority to sing that?...Clear out of this building – only British troops admitted here.” Such treatment was not taking passively by Caribbean soldiers, who mutinied against their officers, starting a riot. When these veterans returned home to the islands, they frequently “led labor revolts and protests,” “which shook the colonial structure to its very foundation.” Many of the veterans who led these revolts later emigrated to the United States, where they became “among the earliest converts to Garveyism.”[35]

Black veterans were radicalized both by their experience in a racist military and their treatment upon returning home. They were encouraged in this by a Black bourgeoisie frustrated by its failure to secure the rights it hoped service would procure. The encouragement of leaders like Du Bois, however, would pale in comparison to the inspiration New Negro radicals would take from the labor insurgency of the postwar years.

The Postwar Labor Upsurge

In the same way that World War I created the conditions for a dramatic increase in Black militancy, it also created the conditions for a massive labor insurgency, which broke out shortly after the end of the war. The resulting strike wave affected the New Negro movement in two ways. First, it emboldened those Black radicals, such as A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen, who already had an orientation on working class politics. Second, since such a large proportion of the strikes were wildcats, unauthorized by union leaders, the upsurge placed a racist union bureaucracy on the defensive, allowing greater space for Black unionists to press their demands. Their success convinced large sections of the Black political class, previously ambivalent (at best) towards the labor movment, that militant organized labor deserved another look.

The postwar upsurge had its roots, ironically, in a deal the American Federation of Labor (AFL) leader Samuel Gompers struck with American business to prevent strikes during World War I. The mobilization of the national economy towards the war demanded an end to the ‘anarchy of production’ which had characterized American business since the end of Reconstruction. Now, all production was to be geared towards the war effort. This transformed the American economy “overnight to a system of state-coordinated planning and management.”[36] This statization of the economy coincided with a drastic drop in immigration from Europe brought on by the outbreak of war. These two events together placed labor in a stronger position than any point since the construction of the railroads. In order to combat the potential for labor to press its demands, the state, acting at the behest of employers, offered the AFL the opportunity to unionize all workplaces under government jurisdiction in return for a no-strike pledge for the duration of the war. Samuel Gompers, eager to increase his organization’s membership, quickly agreed.

As a result of this deal, union membership doubled between 1914 and 1920, vastly increasing the labor movement’s potential power. The war also served to push these newly organized workers towards militancy. The inflation by which the government paid for the war served as a depressor of workers’ living standards, while a situation of nearly full employment demonstrated to workers the extent to which they were necessary to the American economy. When the war ended on November 11, 1918, “the class struggle exploded once more.”[37]

In the following year over four million workers went out on strike. Labor parties were started in forty states.[38] 350,000 steelworkers walked out, halting production in one of the United States’ core industries. In Seattle, which saw a four hundred percent increase in union membership from 1915-1918, a general strike broke in February of 1919. Business in the city ground to a halt as the General Strike Committee (composed of three members from every striking union) became the effective municipal government. One correspondent recounts “the mayor himself” dropping by “to discuss the situation and ask the approval of the committee for this or that step.” In the fall of that year Seattle longshoremen refused to ship weaponry to the White counterrevolutionary forces in Russia, beating up scabs who crossed their picket lines.[39] The Wall Street Journal, observing the state of the country, declared that “Lenin and Trotsky are on their way.”[40]

This upsurge had a tremendous impact on the New Negro radicals. The Messenger’s September 1919 edition carried editorials which give an idea of how its writers viewed the strike wave. One of these, entitled simply “STRIKES,” was an argument for Black workers in the South to join unions. Randolph and Owen hoped that “[t]he present order of strikes ought to impress the millions of Negro workers in the South.” They went on to argue that since cotton picked by Black folks in the South powered the textile mills of England, Black workers would be able to leverage the British ruling class into pressuring the American government into granting concessions. Beyond hoping to influence unorganized Black workers, the editorial also gives an indication of how deeply the strike wave affected Randolph and Owen themselves. After reporting that police unions were forming in Boston and New York, the editorial glowed “truly the end of capitalism is at hand.”[41]

Particularly noteworthy about the postwar strike wave was the degree to which it was not supported by the union bureaucracy. In 1920, more than half of the workers who struck that year did so without the authorization of union leadership.[42] One union official who visited Pittsburgh in the midst of a steel strike left in despair, reporting that the strike was “too turbulent to be exploited by the A.F.L.”[43] Beyond this, many strikes which did receive union recognition were de facto wildcat strikes which received authorization at the last minute.

This massive increase in union militancy served to put a complacent union bureaucracy on the defensive. The bureaucracy had long been a defender of the rights of locals to discriminate against Black workers, so its sudden retreat marked an opening for Black unionists to press their demands. Black workers seized upon this opportunity to pressure the AFL. The 1919 convention in Atlantic City had a larger contingent of Black delegates than any in the federation’s history. These delegates introduced a series of resolutions, ranging from requests for Black Southern organizers to demands that the federation require all of its unions to admit Black workers. Though the Committee on Organization, to which the resolutions were referred, sought to bury them, the resolutions did produce a “sharp confrontation” on the committee floor. The Committee hoped to ameliorate the effects of this confrontation by listing sixteen AFL unions which did admit Black workers. When the Committee chair asked if there were any other unions which wished to be added to the list, John Lacey, a Black unionist from Norfolk, Virginia, rose to speak. Lacey made an emotional speech in which he reminded the convention of African-American loyalty from the Revolutionary War to World War I. In asking to be admitted to unions, Lacey argued, Black workers “ask for the same chance to earn bread for our families at the same salary our white brothers are getting…equal rights as you have to earn bread for your families.”

Lacey’s speech, in Phillip Foner’s words, “broke the dam the Committee on Organization had constructed against [B]lack militancy.” Forty union officials went on to add their unions’ names to the list the Committee had begun. The Committee, while still ignoring the resolutions put forward by Black unionists, did pass a resolution calling for special emphasis on organizing Black workers.

This simple resolution carried tremendous weight within the Black community. The New York Age, one of the oldest Black newspapers, wrote “If carried out towards its logical conclusion, it should mean the loosening of the shackles that have encourage peonage and industrial dependency of all kinds.” William Monroe Trotter’s militant Guardian compared the convention to a new Reconstruction, declaring that it had “open[ed] the gateway to real American life for the first time in more than half a century.” By pressing their demands at a time when the union bureaucracy was already on the defensive, Black unionists helped create a new confidence in the ability of workers’ organization to win real victories for Black struggle.[44]

The postwar labor upsurge thus both heightened the confidence of those already committed to Black working class politics as well as convincing others that such a strategy held real promise.

Red Summer 1919

The explosion of class struggle in 1919 was not the only reason it would come to be known as a “Red year.” The year 1919 witnessed racial violence on a scale not seen since the “Redemption” of the South in the 1890s, culminating in what James Weldon John would call “Red Summer.” The white violence of 1919 convinced the leaders of the New Negro movement that more militant tactics than those associated with traditional Black leadership organizations were needed if African-American lives were to be preserved.

Red Summer had its roots in several of the same processes as other factors shaping the New Negro movement. As the Great Migration brought African-Americans into cities in extraordinary numbers, urban whites began to view them increasingly as competition for jobs and housing. During the war, the same inflation that drove workers to collectively resist the depredations of capital also drove white workers to a far less noble form of collective action: race riots. As Black soldiers returned home to claim the democracy for which they had fought, white mobs convinced that they could attain a better living for themselves by terrorizing Black folks attempted to ensure that they would retain some advantage over African-Americans through the use of mob violence.

The violence that followed was of an astonishing scale. Race riots broke out in over twenty cities, including one in Washington, DC, which occurred nearly on the White House lawn. The year also saw seventy-six lynchings, about twenty more than the years on either side of it. A small survey of the incidents of that year reveals the extent of the terror white mobs sought to inflict on Black Americans. [45]

In May of 1919 there was a sailors’ riot in Charleston, South Carolina where two African-Americans were killed and seven wounded. In Chicago the race riot which drove Harry Haywood and his comrades to take up arms started when Eugene Williams, a Black youth, crossed the invisible line dividing the white section of the beach from the Black section. A white man threw a stone at Williams, who was struck on the head and drowned. African-Americans who complained to the police were arrested. The event sparked off a racial conflagration which lasted five days, after which twenty-three African Americans were dead and over a thousand left homeless by white arsonists. Finally, in Washington, DC, a riot broke after a white mob of sailors lynched a Black man near Pennsylvania Avenue. The violence was encouraged by the Washington Post, which announced “a mobilization of every available [white] service man…has been ordered for tomorrow evening…The hour of assembly is nine o’clock and the purpose is a ‘clean-up’ that will cause the events of the last two evenings to pale into insignificance.” At the end of the Washington riot, over a hundred Blacks were wounded and six dead.[46]

The lynchings of 1919 were equally brutal, although unlike the riots they were overwhelmingly concentrated in the South. In 1919 Dixie executed one African-American roughly every five days. In Ellisville, Mississippi, a Black man wounded by a posse was kept alive overnight by a surgeon so he could be lynched the following day. Newspapers took advantage of this early notice to spread word about the event. Three thousand whites attended the eventual lynching. In Texas, a Black physician who had reported on the murder of a young Black man found himself under assault by a mob. When the doctor escaped, the mob lynched his father-in-law.[47]

The New Negroes responded to this wave of violence with a steadfast affirmation of the rights of Black folks to self-defense, a sentiment crystallized by Claude McKay’s poem “If We Must Die.” All three wings of the New Negro movement I will be examining placed self-defense against white violence as a priority for Black Americans. Marcus Garvey, in 1919, urged UNIA members to “have a white man lynched for every Negro who was lynched.”[48] A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen wrote a lengthy editorial in the Messenger entitled “How to Stop Lynching.” They encouraged their readers to

act upon the recognized and accepted law of self-defense. Always regard your own life as more important than the life of the person about to take yours, and if a choice has to made between the sacrifice of your life and the loss of the lyncher’s life, choose to preserve your own and to destroy that of the lynching mob.[49]

The African Blood Brotherhood took self-defense as absolutely central to its purpose, going so far as to organize itself along military lines. In a letter to the New York World, Cyril Briggs defined his organization as “a Negro protective organization pledged to mobilize Negro thought, and organize Negro man power to a defense of Negro rights and lives wherever and by whomsoever attacked.”[50]

The New Negro movement responded to the violence of Red Summer with an increased militancy that often terrified white authorities. Their shared determination to resist the onslaught of white violence by whatever means necessary provided one of several important points of unity between the movement’s different branches.

The Russian Revolution

The Russian Revolution also provided a key point of unity between the different wings of the New Negro movement insofar as shared enthusiasm for the Revolution and its spread allowed activists like Garvey and the Black socialists to think of themselves as part of the same general tide of history. The remainder of this study will be devoted to examining how the Russian Revolution influenced the different wings of the movement as well as its ultimate dissolution. Before moving into those specifics, however, it’s important to note that the Revolution also had an impact on many of the factors listed above. The Russian Revolution was thus also crucial in the movement’s birth.

This is most obvious in the case of the postwar labor upsurge. Just as the Wall Street Journal looked to the leaders of the Russian Revolution with fear, so many American workers looked to those leaders for inspiration[51]. The success of workers in establishing their own government in Russia provided American strikers with concrete proof that they could do a better job running the country than their employers. The most succinct and accurate description of the revolution’s impact on American labor was provided by the Interchurch World Movement’s Report on the Steel Strike of 1919, which wrote

The Russian Revolution was likely a bloody business and Bolsheviks are doubtless dangerous and wild, but the Russian Government is a laboring man’s government and it has not fallen down yet. Two years of newspaper reports that the Russian republic was about to fall seem to have given workingmen, even here, a sort of class pride that it hasn’t fallen.[52]

The influence of the revolution can also been seen in the pamphlets strike committees put out during the Seattle general strike, declaring to workers, “The Russians have shown you the way out. What are you going to do about it?”[53]

The revolution was also a factor in the radicalization of Caribbean migrants. Winston James describes how Hubert Harrison was “as ecstatic about the Bolshevik Revolution and its socialist promise as any radical in America.”[54] Though Harrison was certainly already a radical by 1917, the revolution provided him additional support for his anticapitalist beliefs. For the younger radicals, the revolution provided a decisive argument for a class-based radicalism in addition to the nationalism many developed after experiencing American racism.

Even the race radicalism inspired by Red Summer was affected by the revolution. The militant response to the riots was facilitated in part by the understanding New Negro radicals had of the riots. In lengthy articles in the Messenger, W.A. Domingo, who also edited the Negro World at that point, argued that the cause of the riots was in economic rivalry and that the riots could only be stopped by the destruction of the economic system which caused them. This approach allowed the New Negro radicals to bypass the handwringing with which older Black leaders confronted the riots. While the Crisis took pains to caution African-Americans against “vengeance” or becoming “blind and lawless,” New Negro radicals realized that no amount of purity of arms would stop the riots[55]. The only solution was to defend Black lives and work for the revolution.

The revolution’s centrality in the New Negro movement continued after the movement’s foundation. In the following three chapters, I will explore the different role the revolution played in the three primary wings of the movement, using the activists’ newspapers as the primary means by which to trace their relationship with the new workers’ state.



[1] Alain Locke. “The New Negro” and “Foreword” in The New Negro: Voices of the Harlem Renaissance. Ed. Alain Locke. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1997. pgs xxv, xxvii, 15.

[2] Anthony Dawahare. “The Specter of Radicalism in Alain Locke’s The New Negro.” In Left of the Color Line:Race, Radicalism, and Twentieth Century Literature of the United States. Ed. Bill V. Mullen and James Smethurst. Chapel Hill: UNC Press, 2003. pg 67.

[3] Qtd. In Jeffrey B. Perry. A Hubert Henry Harrison Reader. Middleton: Wesleyan UP, 2001. Pg. 1.

[4] Jervis Anderson. A Philip Randolph: A Biographical Portrait. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986. pg 80.

[5] Hubert Henry Harrison. “The New Policies for the New Negro.” The Voice (September 4th, 1917). Reprinted in Perry, A Hubert Henry Harrison Reader, pgs 139-140.

[6] Qtd. In Manning Marable. W.E.B. Du Bois: Black Radical Democrat. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1986. Pg 117.

[7] Tony Martin. Race First: The Ideological and Organizational Struggles of Marcus Garvey and the Universal Negro Improvement Association. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1976. Pg. 317.

[8] In invoking such “hauntological” rhetoric, I consciously place this study in a tradition which extends from the opening lines of the Communist Manifesto to Jacques Derrida’s Specters of Marx to Barbara Foley’s recent Specters of 1919: Class and Nation in the Making of the New Negro.

[9] Winston James. Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia: Caribbean Radicalism in Early Twentieth Century America. London: Verso, 1998. Pgs 164-168.

[10] Raymond Williams. Marxism and Literature. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1977. Pg 121.

[11] Ibid 123.

[12] Ernest Allen, Jr. “The New Negro: Explorations in Identity and Social Consciousness, 1910-1922” in 1915: The Cultural Moment, ed. Adele Heller and Lois Rudnick. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1991. Pgs 53-54.

[13] Some historians have attempted to downplay the degree of debate within the Black community over World War I. For example, David Levering Lewis writes that “[t]here was never any likelihood that” Black Americans would oppose the war in significant numbers, since “[p]atriotism was as Afro-American as religion.” Leaving aside the long tradition of Black contestation of American patriotism (most notably Frederick Douglass’ “Fourth of July Oration”), this assertion is belied by substantial evidence of Black skepticism towards the war cause. James Weldon Johnson, for example, recounts being practically laughed out of a barber shop when he inquired if his barber was going to join the military. His barber replied “The Germans ain’t done nothin’ to me, and if they have, I forgive ‘em.” See Lewis, When Harlem Was in Vogue, pg 8 for his argument, as well as Jervis Anderson, This Was Harlem, pgs 103-109 for evidence to the contrary.

[14] In practice this period had been ending for some time, due primarily to the Soviet Union’s incredible immiseration after the Russian Civil War. For a fascinating discussion of Lenin’s role in the aftermath of the Civil War, see Ernest Mandel’s introduction to Paul LeBlanc’s Lenin and the Revolutionary Party.

[15] There are, of course, plenty of claims that such a period never existed. However, there are numerous problems with an interpretation of Soviet history which seeks to draw a straight line from Lenin(ism) to Stalin(ism). Most obvious, perhaps, is that Stalin had all of Lenin’s closest collaborators killed. Stephen Cohen admirably puts forward the rest of this case in his essay “Bolshevism and Stalinism” in Robert Tucker’s collection Stalinism: Essays in Historical Interpretation.

[16] It’s important to note that although the term “Great Migration” generally refers to only Black migration from the South, white migration out was in fact of a much greater volume. See James N. Gregory, The Southern Diaspora, Ch. 1.

[17] James N. Gregory. The Southern Diaspora: How the Great Migrations of Black and White Southerners Transformed America. Chapel Hill: UNC Press, 2003. Pgs 15-24. David Levering Lewis. When Harlem Was in Vogue. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1986. Pgs 20-21, 26-27.

[18] Gregory 21.

[19] Stewart E. Tolnay A Festival of Violence: An Analysis of Southern Lynchings, 1882-1930. Champagne: University of Illinois Press, 1995.

[20] Lewis, When Harlem Was in Vogue, 21. Phillip Foner Organized Labor and the Black Worker 1619-1981. New York: International Publishers, 1982. pg 129.

[21] W. Burghardt Turner and Joyce Moore Turner. Richard B. Moore, Caribbean Militant in Harlem: Collected Writings 1920-1972. London: Pluto Press, Pg 31

[22] James, pg 12.

[23] Ibid 20.

[24] Ibid 33.

[25] Ibid 2.

[26] Ibid see pages 110-114 for a fuller discussion.

[27] Ibid 124-125.

[28] Turner and Turner, Pg 46.

[29] James, Pg 124.

[30] Qtd. In Lewis pg 15.

[31] Chad L. Williams “Vanguards of the New Negro: African-American Veterans and Post-World War I Racial Militancy.” Journal of African American History. Summer 2007, 92.3 Pgs 347-348. The similarity between Du Bois and others’ hopes that demonstrations of Black bravery would be a blow to oppression and Alain Locke and James Weldon Johnson’s view that the demonstration of Black artistic accomplishment in the Harlem Renaissance would be the same is striking, as is the degree to which both proved incorrect.

[32] Qtd. In Williams 351.

[33] Messenger October 1919. Pg 29-30.

[34] Harry Haywood Black Bolshevik: Autobiography of an Afro-American Communist (Chicago: Liberator Press, 1978.)

[35] James 56-66.

[36] Jeremy Brecher. Strike! San Francisco: Straight Arrow Books, 1972. Pg 102.

[37] Sharon Smith. Subterranean Fire: A History of Working-Class Radicalism in the United States. Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2006. pg 89.

[38] Ibid.

[39] Brecher 105-108.

[40] Ibid 116.

[41] Messenger September 1919, pg 5.

[42] Smith 92.

[43] Brecher 119.

[44] Foner 151-153.

[45] Philip Dray. At the Hands of Persons Unknown: The Lynching of Black America. New York: Modern Library, 2003. pg 254.

[46] Lewis When Harlem Was in Vogue 18-19.

[47] Ibid.

[48] Marable 117. This militancy contrasts sharply with Garvey’s later collaboration with the leaders of the Ku Klux Klan.

[49] Messenger August 1919 8-9.

[50] Robert Hill "Racial and Radical: Cyril V. Briggs, THE CRUSADER Magazine, and the African Blood Brotherhood, 1918-1922." Introductory Essay to THE CRUSADER. New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1987.

[51] For a sample of how widespread American support for the revolution was, see Phillip Foner The Bolshevik Revolution: Its Impact on American Radicals, Liberals and Labor New York: International Publishers, 1967.

[52] Qtd. In Brecher 104

[53] ibid 111.

[54] James 126.

[55] Crisis September 1919, 231.