The true context of Catt

Kel Munger

I find it heartening that students in defense of Carrie Chapman Catt are taking the time to read her words; it is this examination of primary sources for which all sides in the debate over the naming of Catt Hall have been calling these last two years.

However, I find it necessary to take issue with the claims made by the authors of “Catt’s words taken out of context” (Daily, Sept. 23).

First, they wish to put Catt’s words into two contexts: the context of her life (which members of The September 29th Movement have never said was anything less than remarkable) and the context of her times.

They express dismay that some of us include a third context, the context of our times, in the discussion (which seems reasonable to me, since the building was named in 1995 and not in 1920). But for the moment, let’s take a look at Catt’s texts in the context of her times.

The context provided by Hansen, Haseloff, Hale and Foster in their essay says, in part, that the racist argument of Catt’s southern strategy was necessary because: “She had to say this in their words, in a way that although unacceptable today, was acceptable in 1917.”

First, the assumption that it was acceptable in 1917 is mistaken. Catt’s own choice of words for another audience, the readers of the NAACP’s journal “The Crisis,” indicates she knew this, for she did not use this argument with people of color (as is demonstrated by the excerpt quoted in Hansen, et al).

Her use of one argument to win in one place, while thinking or saying something else entirely —sometimes called sophistry — is an example of politically expedient racism.

By this, I mean that the racist ideology may not have been part of Catt’s personal belief system, but rather was a part of her rhetorical strategy — a base desire to “tickle the ears” of an audience in order to win.

The long list of groups who feared particular votes is most interesting because, in some of Catt’s other “contexts,” she attacked the “ignorant foreign vote,” the “illiterate” vote, the “union” vote. In short, her politically expedient and unethical rhetorical strategy was such that anyone was fair game.

The context of Catt’s times made it possible for her to consistently select a rhetorical strategy of “worthy versus unworthy” binaries in her arguments; however, she personally made the decision about whether to engage in this practice. Her context does not free her from accountability for the consequences of her rhetorical and ethical decisions.

Her politically expedient racism is comparable to the strategy employed by George Wallace of Alabama, a man of fairly moderate racial views who adopted a rabidly segregationist and racist position in order to win the governorship of his state in the early 1960s.

Although he did not believe in this racist strategy, he did believe the good he could do for the white majority outweighed the damage that would be done to the black minority. Alabama had great roads and no civil rights for people of color.

To George Wallace, in context meant police riots, bombed churches and the imprisonment of African-Americans who attempted to exercise their Constitutionally-guaranteed freedoms. Dr. King wrote his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” in the context of Wallace’s gubernatorial tenure.

Does this mean Wallace’s segregationist rhetoric caused the death of four little girls in a Birmingham church bombing? Perhaps not. Does it raise the possibility that his rhetoric created a context in which such horrific acts could occur? Absolutely. The relationship between the rhetoric of segregation and the practice of violence is clearly defined in several scholarly works.

To take this discussion back to Catt and her context(s), did her willingness to use the rhetoric of white supremacy to secure voting rights for some women (don’t forget, the majority of African-American women in this country were prevented from voting until passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1964) cause the upsurge in lynchings and KKK activity that is a documented part of the context of 1917? Perhaps not.

Did her willingness to play the southern strategy of white supremacy foster an environment in which such activities could, nay, would, occur? Absolutely.

The only way to read “white supremacy” as anything other than the repression and destruction of peoples of color is to read it through the lens of white privilege — a privilege which, among other things, denies it exists. The context of Catt’s times, and of ours, ensures that those who have privilege will also have no reason to question the consequences of that privilege on those who are excluded.

To return to the analogy of former Governor Wallace, who has recently undergone a public reconciliation with people of color, what differentiates him from Catt is that he has publicly and vocally recanted his politically racist actions and asked for forgiveness. Catt did neither. She made a vague statement that, when she was younger, she was “a regular jingoist,” and a similarly vague statement that she’d never run for public office because of what one had to do to win at the ballot box.

She never did anything that resembled renouncing her southern racist strategy or apologizing for it. In the words of author Osha Gray Davidson, who has written a book on one man’s journey from racism to reconciliation, “There is a special circle of Hell reserved for politically expedient racists.”

At least one person involved in the decision to rename Old Botany in honor of Carrie Chapman Catt has referred to their decision as “politically expedient.”

It was that, in every sense of the word: the process excluded students, excluded people of color and chose to ignore several of the contexts for Catt’s words.

Are people who support the decision to name the building for Carrie Chapman Catt racist? Probably not. Are they complicit in a system that, by practicing exclusion, creates an environment in which racism can thrive? Think about that carefully.

I call on President Jischke to re-open the naming process for Catt Hall, not in the name of political expediency, but in the name of justice and inclusion.


Kel Munger

ISU Graduate Alumnus

Class of 1997