NY Times SUNDAY BOOK REVIEW, Oct. 5 2014
A Brutal Process
'The Half Has Never Been Told,' by Edward E. Baptist
By ERIC FONER

THE HALF HAS NEVER BEEN TOLD
Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism
By Edward E. Baptist
Illustrated. 498 pp. Basic Books. $35.

For residents of the world’s pre-­eminent capitalist nation, American 
historians have produced remarkably few studies of capitalism in the 
United States. This situation was exacerbated in the 1970s, when 
economic history began to migrate from history to economics departments, 
where it too often became an exercise in scouring the past for numerical 
data to plug into computerized models of the economy. Recently, however, 
the history of American capitalism has emerged as a thriving cottage 
industry. This new work portrays capitalism not as a given (something 
that “came in the first ships,” as the historian Carl Degler once wrote) 
but as a system that developed over time, has been constantly evolving 
and penetrates all aspects of society.

Slavery plays a crucial role in this literature. For decades, historians 
depicted the institution as unprofitable and on its way to extinction 
before the Civil War (a conflict that was therefore unnecessary). 
Recently, historians like Sven Beckert, Robin Blackburn and Walter 
Johnson have emphasized that cotton, the raw material of the early 
Industrial Revolution, was by far the most important commodity in 
19th-century international trade and that capital accumulated through 
slave labor flowed into the coffers of Northern and British bankers, 
merchants and manufacturers. And far from being economically backward, 
slave owners pioneered advances in modern accounting and finance.

Edward E. Baptist situates “The Half Has Never Been Told” squarely 
within this context. Baptist, who teaches at Cornell University, is the 
author of a well-­regarded study of slavery in Florida. Now he expands 
his purview to the entire cotton kingdom, the heartland of 19th-­century 
American slavery. (Unfortunately, slavery in the Upper South, where 
cotton was not an economic staple, is barely discussed, even though as 
late as 1860 more slaves lived in Virginia than any other state.) In 
keeping with the approach of the new historians of capitalism, the book 
covers a great deal of ground — not only economic enterprise but 
religion, ideas of masculinity and gender, and national and Southern 
politics. Baptist’s work is a valuable addition to the growing 
literature on slavery and American development.

Where Baptist breaks new ground is in his emphasis on the centrality of 
the interstate trade in slaves to the regional and national economies 
and his treatment of the role of extreme violence in the workings of the 
slave system. After the legal importation of slaves from outside the 
country ended in 1808, the spread of slavery into the states bordering 
the Gulf of Mexico would not have been possible without the enormous 
uprooting of people from Maryland and Virginia. Almost one million 
slaves, Baptist estimates, were transported to the cotton fields from 
the Upper South in the decades before the Civil War.

The domestic slave trade was highly organized and economically 
efficient, relying on such modern technologies as the steamboat, 
railroad and telegraph. For African-Americans, its results were 
devastating. Since buyers preferred young workers “with no attachments,” 
the separation of husbands from wives and parents from children was 
intrinsic to its operation, not, as many historians have claimed, a 
regrettable side effect. Baptist shows how slaves struggled to recreate 
a sense of community in the face of this disaster.

The sellers of slaves, Baptist insists, were not generally paternalistic 
owners who fell on hard times and parted reluctantly with members of 
their metaphorical plantation “families,” but entrepreneurs who knew an 
opportunity for gain when they saw one. As for the slave traders — the 
middlemen — they excelled at maximizing profits. They not only 
emphasized the labor abilities of those for sale (reinforced by 
humiliating public inspections of their bodies), but appealed to buyers’ 
salacious fantasies. In the 1830s, the term “fancy girl” began to appear 
in slave-trade notices to describe young women who fetched high prices 
because of their physical attractiveness. “Slavery’s frontier,” Baptist 
writes, “was a white man’s sexual playground.”

The cotton kingdom that arose in the Deep South was incredibly brutal. 
Violence against Native Americans who originally owned the land, 
competing imperial powers like Spain and Britain and slave rebels 
solidified American control of the Gulf states. Violence, Baptist 
contends, explains the remarkable increase of labor productivity on 
cotton plantations. Without any technological innovations in cotton 
picking, output per hand rose dramatically between 1800 and 1860. Some 
economic historians have attributed this to incentives like money 
payments for good work and the opportunity to rise to skilled positions. 
Baptist rejects this explanation.

Planters called their method of labor control the “pushing system.” Each 
slave was assigned a daily picking quota, which increased steadily over 
time. Baptist, who feels that historians too often employ 
circumlocutions that obscure the horrors of slavery, prefers to call it 
“the ‘whipping-machine’ system.” In fact, the word we should really use, 
he insists, is “torture.” To make slaves work harder and harder, 
planters utilized not only incessant beating but forms of discipline 
familiar in our own time — sexual humiliation, bodily mutilation, even 
waterboarding. In the cotton kingdom, “white people inflicted torture 
far more often than in almost any human society that ever existed.” When 
Abraham Lincoln reminded Americans in his Second Inaugural Address of 
the 250 years of “blood drawn with the lash” that preceded the Civil 
War, he was making a similar point: Violence did not begin in the United 
States with the firing on Fort Sumter.

Baptist has a knack for explaining complex financial matters in lucid 
prose. He relates how in the 1830s Southern banks developed new 
financial instruments, bonds with slaves as collateral, that enabled 
planters to borrow enormous amounts of money to acquire new land, and 
how lawmakers backed these bonds with the state’s credit. A speculative 
bubble ensued, and when it collapsed, taxpayers were left to foot the 
bill. But rather than bailing out Northern and European bondholders, 
several states simply defaulted on their debts. Many planters fled with 
their slaves to Texas, until 1845 an independent republic, to avoid 
creditors. “Honor,” a key element in Southern notions of masculinity, 
went only so far.

By the 1850s, prosperity returned to the cotton economy, and planters 
had no difficulty obtaining loans in financial markets. As the railroad 
opened new areas to cultivation and cotton output soared, slave owners 
saw themselves as a modern, successful part of the world capitalist 
economy. They claimed the right to bring their slaves into all the 
nation’s territories, and indeed into free states. These demands aroused 
intense opposition in the North, leading to Lincoln’s election, 
secession and civil war.

Baptist clearly hopes his findings will reach a readership beyond 
academe — a worthy ambition. He pursues this goal, however, in ways that 
sometimes undermine the book’s coherence. The chapter titles, which 
refer to parts of the body, often have little connection to the content 
that follows. Presumably to avoid sounding academic, he sprinkles the 
text with anachronistic colloquialisms (“the president was all in” is 
how he describes Franklin Pierce’s embrace of the Kansas-Nebraska bill 
in 1854) and with telegraphic sentences more appropriate for Twitter. 
Occasionally, he deploys four-letter words that cannot be reproduced in 
these pages. This is unnecessary — his story does not require additional 
shock value.

It is hardly a secret that slavery is deeply embedded in our nation’s 
history. But many Americans still see it as essentially a footnote, an 
exception to a dominant narrative of the expansion of liberty on this 
continent. If the various elements of “The Half Has Never Been Told” are 
not entirely pulled together, its underlying argument is persuasive: 
Slavery was essential to American development and, indeed, to the 
violent construction of the capitalist world in which we live.


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