Abstract

This analysis of enslavement in an American South subregion provides an historical microcosm for understanding the complexities of provincial culture formation in the modern world-system. Simultaneously rooted in multiple points of local and world-systemic origin, peoplehood is an historical product of the capitalist world-system. Despite widespread notions to the contrary, low black population density and geographical isolation did not forestall slave community building on small plantations. Despite extreme repression, slaves dialectically preserved and altered hidden transcripts in order to recapture pasts that had been silenced by the capitalist system. Embracing the collective diasporic memory of many disparate communities, small slave populations shared the collective grievance and the counter-hegemonic culture of all who had been forced to participate in international and domestic labor migrations.

 Fogel (1989: 85-86) argues that Aslaves could develop a degree of cultural autonomy only if there was a community in which they could interact with one another.@ According to Fox-Genovese (1983: 248), small numbers of slave families could Anot anchor the development of Afro-American culture@ because of the extreme repression, frequently disrupted households, and geographical isolation of small plantations. To test these widely-held notions, this study breaks new ground by investigating slave culture formation in a subregion of the American South that was characterized by low black population densities. In the Mountain South (also known as Southern Appalachia), slavery flourished amidst a nonslaveholding majority, and blacks comprised only about 15 percent of the region's 1860 population (Dunaway 2003b: 20-21). However, Athe Africanization of plantation society was not a matter of numbers@ (Berlin 1998: 107). Indeed, a region was not buffered from the political, economic, and social impacts of enslavement just because it was characterized by small slaveholdings and low black population density. Small mountain slave communities routinely operated as subcultures of resistance that were grounded in noncooperation, sabotage, and the emergence of a counter-hegemonic culture and religion. In comparison to the Lower South, there was a higher per-capita incidence of assaults on whites by slaves on small Appalachian plantations. The slave family was the organizational center of resistance, and enslaved women resisted just as frequently as males (Dunaway 2003b: 28-32).

Hidden Cultural Transcripts and Repression

In situations of extreme repression, dominated groups construct and preserve hidden transcripts (Scott 1990: 3, 65, 92, 148) that become the infrastructure of their antisystemic resistance. What is the content of such hidden transcripts? First, those counter-narratives provide a better understanding of a group's social condition than that which prevails in the dominant culture. Through their subversive oral transcripts, oppressed peoples construct and transmit their history. Even to a greater extent than ruling classes, marginalized groups:

are constituted by their past-- and for this reason we can speak of a real community as a 'community of memory,' one that does not forget its past. In order not to forget its past, a community is involved in retelling its story, its constitutive narrative. . . . People growing up in communities of memory not only hear the stories that tell how the community came to be, what its hopes and fears are, and how its ideals are exemplified in outstanding men and women; they also participate in the practices-- ritual, aesthetic, ethical-- that define the community as a way of life. We call these "practices of commitment" for they define the patterns of loyalty and obligation that keep the community alive (Bellah et. al.1985: 153-54).

The second element of hidden transcripts is the shared suffering of the oppressed. Knowledge about widespread injustice socializes members of the repressed group "to pursue both their own good and the good of the tradition of which they are bearers" (MacIntyre 1981: 208), even in situations defined by danger, crisis, or tragedy. Third, those narratives explain domination in terms of power and injustice, rejecting myths and stereotypes about the inferiority of their own group. As Couto (1993: 61) observes, "the awareness of economic subordination and political repression. . . reminds them constantly of the inaccuracies of the prevailing explanations of these inequalities."

Why were hidden transcripts of a shared past so important for slaves on small plantations? Small plantations disrupted slave families much more frequently than did large planters. Thus, complete families of parents and children resided together in only one-fifth of black Appalachian households Moreover, Appalachian ex-slaves reported sexual exploitation three times more frequently than did blacks from other regions (Dunaway 2003a: 120-21, 273). In addition to being punished more often than slaves in other regions, black Appalachians reported masters who were extremely brutal nearly five times more frequently than their counterparts in the rest of the United States. On small plantations, punishment and white brutality were most often connected to social infractions, such as participation in illegal cultural rituals (Dunaway 2003b: 167-68). Consequently, mountain slaves were not permitted to develop overt institutions that would allow them to produce and disseminate their knowledge freely. Illiterate and denied any written history of their group's past, they rooted themselves politically in an oral memory pool that challenged slaveholder myths and stereotypes. Through their knowledge about the collective past and through their participation in an ethnically distinct culture, mountain slaves developed a sense of solidarity with other distant African-Americans. Oneness with others who shared the same oppression helped Appalachian slaves withstand the frequent family disruptions, the brutality, and the sexual exploitation of masters who were more abusive than slaveholders in other sections of the South.

Anchored in the assurance that their community persisted even when their families were endangered, individual members shared a collective past and an alternate culture that blanketed them from total domination and despair. By risking reprisals to construct and preserve their families, culture, and religion, black Appalachians engaged in acts of profound antisystemic resistance. According to Dubnow (1931: 28), "the soul of each generation. . . emanates from the soul of the (collective) 'body' of all the preceding generations, and what endures, namely the strength of the accumulated past, exceeds the wreckage, the strength of the changing present." On the one hand, the slave community of memory sustained and nurtured individuals by making them part of a common past that was constructed out of stories of suffering and injustice. On the other hand, the slave religion fostered a subversive dream for the overthrow of the oppressive system. Indeed, the Appalachian slave community "held the banner high for an alternative vision of the world" (Wallerstein 1999: 29), for their cultural resistance was a political force for liberation. In addition to providing them a sense of deeper identity, the counter-hegemonic culture and community gave slaves hope for a future day of retribution and lay a lasting infrastructure for a liberation struggle that would span several generations.

In many ways, plantations had two distinct cultures: the master=s world view and the marginalized transcripts of the oppressed. Slave "voices from the edge" kept "disturbing the centre" of plantation life (Rawick 1972b: 96). The secrecy of the underground culture made insurrection a constant fear, and dangerous aspects of African heritage reminded whites that their ideology had not brainwashed slaves. Those voices from the edge were constant reminders to masters that African-Americans had "held on to their own, secret souls" and that they were engaged in "the continual creation of a community whose primary function was to struggle against their oppressors" (Fogel 1989: 169).

What evidence is there that slaves on small plantations constructed a counterculture despite their small numbers in predominantly white communities? First, slaveholders themselves absorbed and preserved elements of slave culture that were economically beneficial, for example, African foods, basketmaking, and textile dyeing. In other instances, masters tolerated a counter-cultural element as a matter of convenience, such as acquiescing to separate church services because they found slave chanting and emotionalism distasteful. Second, slave patrols were the front-line of repression, and we need to think about those policing tactics in two ways. On the one hand, slave patrols represent an acknowledgment by masters that their black laborers were mobile insurgents. In other words, owners implemented patrols because they recognized that their slaves were engaging in the production of counter-hegemonic knowledge. Thus, the patrol system should be interpreted as evidence of the persistence of slave culture, not as proof that repression stamped out such activity. On the other hand, the slave patrol was successful at social control only to the degree that its agents were skilled at surveillance. The fundamental weakness in mountain slave patrols lay in their composition, for poor uneducated whites were disproportionately represented among the patrollers. By pitting two illiterate groups against one another, mountain slaveholders were failing to clench an iron fist of domination. That is not to claim that mountain patrollers were totally ineffectual or benign, but their lack of knowledge (coupled with the greater travel experience of many black Appalachians) created loopholes for evasions and escape. For instance, how could an illiterate patroller confirm whether a slip of paper was indeed a pass that authorized a slave=s movement on the roads?

Even though they were located in areas with low black population densities, Appalachian slaves engaged in numerous collective activities through which they built a sense of peoplehood and transmitted cultural knowledge. Despite their surveillance and brutality, most small slaveholders did not prohibit cultural activities until they were perceived as threatening. Thus, only about 2 percent of the Appalachian ex-slaves reported that they were forbidden participation in social gatherings. By staging their own oppositional values and practices, mountain slaves formed a defensive "closed circle" of ethnically-distinct community members. Weddings, funerals, weekend and holiday gatherings, work parties, and religious meetings were important arenas that made possible the emergence of a counter-hegemonic culture. For it was through group activities that Appalachian slaves developed their "collective identification" with a larger community and with a subculture (Blassingame 1972: 106) that was more far-reaching than the Southern Mountains.

Mechanisms of Cultural Transmission

In the United States, the European demand for cotton triggered the largest domestic slave trade in the history of the world (Patterson 1982: 64-65). Consequently, the international and the interstate slave trades were the most significant mechanisms through which African-American culture was transmitted and preserved. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, tobacco production absorbed two-fifths of the U.S. slaves. By the end of the American Revolution, however, prices for tobacco, indigo, and rice (the three major Southern exports) had declined in the world-economy. Simultaneously, cotton was required to fuel expansion of the English textiles industry, so prices for that commodity escalated and underwent fewer cyclical drops (Wallerstein 1989: 167). Between 1810 and 1840, U.S. cotton production increased nearly tenfold, as plantations pushed westward to form a long belt stretching from South Carolina through Texas. In almost every decade from 1810 to 1860, Lower South cotton production expanded three times faster than the agricultural output of the Upper South (Fogel 1989: 63-65). As a result, the Lower South demand for slaves expanded 1800 percent, more than twice the rate of increase in the U.S. slave population. Between 1790 and 1860, U.S. enslavement underwent a major transformation such that two-thirds of the country=s slaves were reconcentrated in the region producing the most profitable staple for the world-economy (Fogel 1989: 63-65, 70). Over this seventy year period, the Lower South slave population nearly quadrupled because the Upper South exported two-fifths of its African-Americans, the vast majority sold through interstate transactions, about 15 percent forcibly removed through interregional relocations with owners (Tadman 1989: 17-19).

The chances of an Upper South slave falling into the hands of interstate traders were quite high. Nearly one of every three slave children living in the Upper South in 1820 was "sold South" by 1860, and one-half of all spouses were removed from their marital households (Tadman 1989: 45). Each decade between 1820 and 1860, traders transported one-tenth of all Upper South slaves to the Lower South. As part of this interregional forced labor migration, there is conclusive evidence in the Census returns of the movement of slaves into and out of Southern Appalachia. After 1840, Appalachian slaves were being exported at a rate slightly higher than the black outward migration from the rest of the Upper South. Between 1840 and 1860, black Appalachians were the victims of nearly one-fifth of all the interstate sales that occurred between 1840 and 1860. To put it another way, Appalachia was home for one of every eight of the slaves involved in the interregional black diaspora between 1840 and 1860. On average, the parents and grandparents of Appalachian ex-slaves were uprooted by interstate relocations three to five times during their lifetimes (Dunaway 2003a: 18-28, 54-60), repeatedly compelled to integrate themselves into the collective memories of different communities in the Upper South and in the Lower South. Dialectically, then, the slave trade weakened the cultural imperialism and totalitarian control of masters by expanding the enduring ties of slave collectivities, both local and distant.

Slaves used to their cultural advantage two strategies that small plantations structured to maximize labor. Much more often than Lower South large plantations, Appalachian masters hired out their slaves on profitable annual contracts to distant industrial, commercial, and transportation enterprises, quite often requiring the laborer to travel unsupervised between work site and home. In addition, small Appalachian plantations were four times more likely than other U.S. slave regions to maximize profits by producing their own cloth. To achieve that output, owners assigned women to unsupervised night-time textiles production 3.5 times more frequently than they required males to do evening chores. While mothers worked in groups that included large numbers of children, they told stories, passed along genealogical information, sang, danced, planned resistance, and engaged in illicit religious rituals (Dunaway 2003b: 38-41, 61, 168, 174).

Though structured by owners to externalize to black laborers the costs associated with reproduction and the production of subsistence needs, the slave household was the first line of counter-acculturation. In comparison to the Lower South, small mountain plantations were more often characterized by abroad marriages. So as not to circumscribe fertility rates, small slaveholders encouraged the development of family ties between spouses who were owned by different neighboring masters. Despite low slave population densities, family bonds reached across plantations through the many abroad espousal linkages; and visitation patterns created a network of far-flung associations and news sources. In addition, mountain slave children were rooted in their collective past through wide-reaching ties with all those who shared their oppressed station. As part of their socialization, youngsters were taught to identify all blacks as part of their community, distinct from the dominant white system. Gutman (1976: 87, 222-23) observed that "teaching Afro-American children to call all adult slaves (not just blood kin) 'aunt' and 'uncle' converted plantation non-kin relationships into quasi-kin relationships binding together slave adults (fictive aunts and uncles) in networks of mutual obligation that extended beyond formal kin obligations dictated by blood and marriage." Even for those on small plantations, the "black community" lay out there and was a collective, counter-hegemonic reality.

Mountain Slaves and the Interregional African-American Culture

To what degree did slaves on small plantations learn, transmit, and influence the wider African-American culture? Despite the differences in plantation size and the great distances between the regions, slaves of the Mountain South and the Lower South shared many basic beliefs and cultural practices. Conjurors, herb doctors, musicians, story-tellers, and handicraft artisans kept alive mountain slave traditions. Such cultural specialists were common in other American slave regions (Blassingame 1972, Gutman 1976, Stuckey 1987, Gomez 1998). Mountain slaves preserved the same African music and dance traditions that have been documented in other American slave zones (Dunaway 2003b: 198-238; Gomez 1998: 237-44). One of the strongest indicators of the extent to which black Appalachians shared the broader African-American culture is religious practice. Black Appalachians engaged in counter-hegemonic religious practices and a liberation theology that shared many common elements with slaves of other regions (Dunaway 2003a: 233-40). Until 1830, African religious practices dominated among slaves because most whites were themselves unchurched (Davenport 1905: 66-79). Three-quarters of North American slaves were still unconverted in 1860, and the explanation for low black membership in white churches lay in the persistence of African religious customs (Gomez 1998: 113, 284-87). After the Nat Turner rebellion, the southern states outlawed unsupervised black religious assemblies (Blassingame 1972: 134). Because of the contradictory cultural consciousness (Gramsci 1971: 333) of slaves, however, "the process of Christianizing the Afro-American was not one of abject surrender of Africa to the West. In the spirit of Afro-Americans, Christianity was converted to their needs as much as they were converted to its doctrine" (Rawick 1972b: 38-39).

As Gramsci argues, all ruling groups seek to perpetuate their power, wealth and status by rendering unchallengeable their own philosophy, culture, and morality. The struggle for religious hegemony is "a process of competition for control of behaviors" in which the ruling class seeks conformity by an oppressed people to values, deportment, institutions, and identity myths that support dominant economic and political interests (Boggs 1976: 39). Slaveholders knew they did not have hegemonic control over the culture and ideology of slaves. Consequently, more than three-quarters of the mountain masters required enslaved families to participate in regular religious instruction conducted by whites, and the vast majority of Appalachian slaves attended regular services at the white churches where their masters were members. Thus, mountain slaves were slightly more likely than their Lower South counterparts to receive white religious instruction (Dunaway 2003a: 230). Because such oppressed groups give only a superficial consent to dominant institutions, so their conversion to an insurgent world-view is always possible (Lockwood 1992: 332, 328-29). In order to construct covert cultural transcripts grounded in liberation, subordinated groups must engage in organized cultural struggle (Abercrombie and Turner 1978: 153), like the underground religion of mountain slaves. Unique in the United States, the praise meeting in the quarters or woods was a syncretism of African and conventional Protestant beliefs (Raboteau 1980: 57-73). African vestiges included the roles of preachers, elders, and women, verbal responses during services, the conversion experience, water baptism, shouting, prayer beads, pot rituals, conjuring, and the notion of the funeral as a "home going." All these practices appear in Appalachian slave narratives and other primary documents, and African style conjuring and charms are described frequently. Even though a majority of mountain masters required slave participation in white church services, less than 10 percent of those black Appalachians ever joined white churches. Despite legal restrictions and close surveillance, mountain slaves participated to a greater extent in their underground religion than in white services. In fact, illicit prayer meetings and singings ranked high among the reasons for whippings (Dunaway 2003a: 171). Perhaps the most feared agent of social change among Appalachian slaves was the black preacher. As one Appalachian slave noted, "the idea of revolution in the conditions of whites and blacks [wa]s the cornerstone of the religion of the latter" (Rawick 1972a, vol. 17: 142).

Black Appalachians and Diaspora Myths

In addition to cultural and religious practices, slaves on small plantations transmitted diaspora myths that were common among all African-Americans. Even though most of them lived in rural areas with small slave populations, black Appalachians preserved and retold international slave trade accounts that were almost identical to the stories of African-Americans on large plantations of the Lower South. ARed cloth@ diaspora tales were widespread among American slaves, and these accounts omitted the role of Africans in the international slave trade (Gomez 1998: 199-209) Like other African-Americans, mountain slaves believed they had been kidnaped by European slave catchers who scattered bright red articles along a coast to entice Africans out for easy capture by ship crews (Rawick 1972a, vol. 17: 336, vol. 7: 24-25; Rawick 1977, vol. 9: 1416-17). William Brown (1847: 51) recalled a song in which Appalachian slaves drew an historical parallel between the Middle Passage and their own forced migrations from the Upper South to the Lower South. The verse lamented: ASee these poor souls of Africa transported to America. We are stolen and sold to Georgia." Born in 1845, William Davis could remember that his father was a first-generation African. Davis' father "come from Congo," and he had told his children about how "a big storm druv de ship somewhere on de Ca'lina coast." Davis' father explained to his offspring that the "scars on de side he head and cheek" were "tribe marks" to identify his family and clan linkages in Africa (Rawick 1972a, vol. 4: 290). Davis' oral transcript is historically accurate. The slave trade concentrated West Central Africans, including 40 percent of the slaves from the Congo, in South Carolina and Georgia. The marks on the father's head distinguished him as a person of wealth and social status in his homeland (Gomez 1998: 131, 150).

Through their preservation of such myths, mountain slaves were "communicating their very high regard of and a deep yearning for Africa to their descendants" (Gomez 1998: 239). By tracing their ancestral claims back to Africa, they were forging ideological weapons of resistance. Moreover, their transmittal of a standardized myth of the slave trade demonstrates that black Appalachians participated in a culture common to other African-Americans. According to Michael Gomez (1998: 207-208):

The stylized and sanctioned version of the initial capture, a well-known tale widely circulated throughout the South, excluded African agency and collusion. . . . The development of an initial capture account that points the finger exclusively at the European and excludes any mention of his African counterpart is highly significant, for it marks an important stage in the emergence of the African American aggregate identity and signals the fording of a major divide in the journey from ethnicity to race as the principal determinant of collective self-perception. For what the sanctioned version is fundamentally conveying is the idea that, notwithstanding the involvement and betrayal of African political and familial entities, the Atlantic trade in slaves was first and foremost the idea of Europeans; they initiated it; they had the ships, they made the voyage, they supplied the commodities, they transported the victims. It was the New World plantation complex that mercilessly drove the exchange. . . . The white man was found guilty of guile, guilty of violence, guilty of horrors unimaginable. This is the fundamental truth that the African-born wanted their offspring to understand about the initial capture.

The omission of certain historical "facts" is less significant than the reality that slaves all over Appalachia and throughout the U.S. somehow constructed and reached consensus about the political parable that white Europeans tricked Africans onto the slave ships. On the one hand, African-Americans cast their slave trade account in the cultural genre of African trickster tales that depict characters gaining dominance over others through guile and lies, a political choice that permitted them to emphasize the moral responsibility of the oppressors. On the other hand, African-Americans were not simply fantasizing their explanation; they did indeed ground it in the real life experience of some slaves. Kidnaping had been one of the acquisition strategies of slavers. After the mid-1700s, European purchases of slaves were more often made in little boats detached from the main slave ship. In some instances, parties of sailors used canoes to work inland rivers. In a manner that echoes the details of black Appalachian accounts, they waited on land and ambushed or enticed stragglers. Since such small groups of whites could not defend themselves against captives, they quite often utilized red textiles, alcohol, or trinkets to trick them onboard (Thomas 1997: 379-80, 393, 406-408). According to the journal of one such slaver, they would sometimes "leave goods a whole night" on the river banks. Slavers also used trickery to kidnap Africans whose families or clans were told that they were being hired to work near their homes. Payments were made in red wool, beads, metal tools, and bracelets (Braudel 1981: vol. 3, p. 435).

Why would African-Americans and black Appalachians censor from their collective myth the collaboration of Africans in the slave trade? It is now clear that African-Americans developed two folkloric traditions. When the audience included whites, blacks focused upon Europeans; but there is clear evidence in antebellum manuscripts that African-Americans preserved oral transcripts about the complicity of Africans in the international slave trade. Kidnaping required the assistance of a special type of African middleman whose betrayal is documented in slave cultural transcripts. In the view of African-Americans, the middleman was "lower dan all other mens or beasts" because he had helped whites to "betray thousands into bondage." The role of the African middleman was "to entice 'em into [a] trap." By disarming unsuspecting blacks, "he'd git 'em on [the] boat" so that the "white folks could ketch 'em an' chain 'em" (Stuckey 1987: 4-5, 360n). Indeed, the emergence of two separate accounts demonstrates the extent to which African-Americans and black Appalachians were constructing a new collective identity as one people with a shared exploitation. In their real life in the United States, Africans were not their oppressors, so the political parable was directed outwardly toward whites (Gomez 1998: 212-214).

Indeed, the dissonance between official academic history and African-American mythology is itself evidence of the formation and transmission of a slave counterculture. In order to recover the Ainsurgent consciousness@ of slaves from the historical silence, we must pay attention to such marginalized cultural transcripts because they constitute a "conception of the world and life" that is constructed by subordinated groups "in opposition to 'official' conceptions of the world"(Gramsci 1985: 142). Indeed, the slave counter-narrative was "valid in terms of their experience" (Thompson 1963: 12-13) because "pastness is central to and inherent in the concept of peoplehood" (Wallerstein 1991: 77). That past takes a moral and political dimension because it can be used to construct or to dismantle political solidarities, to legitimate or to undermine existing institutions, to induce quiescence or resistance. "Pastness is a mode by which persons are persuaded to act in the present in ways they might not otherwise act" (Wallerstein 1991: 7). Pastness is, in short, a tool that people use to resist political domination and cultural genocide. If we look beyond the "error of memory," we discover the exciting "historical fact" that African-Americans and black Appalachians were defining their peoplehood. On the one hand, black American slaves were reconstituting themselves into one people, even though they had originated from a wide diversity of African ethnicities. On the other hand, political parables, like the Ared cloth tales,@ laid the moral responsibility at the feet of whites, for the international slave trade was driven by the greedy expansion of the European-based capitalist world-system.

Conclusion

This analysis of enslavement in an American South subregion provides an historical microcosm for understanding the complexities of provincial culture formation in the modern world-system. Simultaneously rooted in multiple points of local and world-systemic origin, peoplehood is an Ahistorical product of the capitalist economy through which the antagonistic forces struggle with each other" (Wallerstein 1991: 85). Despite extreme repression on small plantations, slaves dialectically preserved and altered hidden transcripts in order to recapture pasts that had been silenced by the capitalist system. On the one hand, low black population density and geographical isolation did not forestall community building. Instead these illiterate subalterns refashioned world, national, and regional elements into localized counter-hegemonic narratives (Hershatter 1993). On the other hand, small slave populations shared politically the collective grievance (Scott 1990) of all who had been forced to participate in international and domestic labor migrations. Embracing the collective diasporic memory of many disparate communities, slaves on small plantations learned and transmitted an African-American political myth which placed the blame for the international slave trade on the Europeans who dominated the world-system.

Notes

1. For a description of the target area for this study, see Dunaway (2003b: pp. 1-7). I have previously described the incorporation of this region into the modern world-system (Dunaway 1996).

2. Analysis of slave narratives. See the list of regional slave narratives online at http://scholar.lib.vt.edu/vtpubs/mountain_slavery/slave2.htm

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