This week, “Uprisings and Civil Authority in Eighteen-Century America,” by Pauline Maier and “Crowds and soldiers in revolutionary North Carolina” by Wayne Lee worked together to paint a detailed picture in my mind of how violence functioned in early and pre-revolution America.<\/p>\n
Ian Solcz correctly observed in his blog posting that both authors create sympathy for the rioters themselves, rather than those victims of riots. I think that they do this by attempting to move past weighted and often carelessly used terms like “riot” or “mob” in order to describe the actions of the mob specifically, and how it fit within the context in which they were working. As Lee points out, too often do historians describe in detail the events preceding an outbreak of violence, and then leave the violence itself with the frustratingly vague description of “riot” or “violence.”<\/p>\n
The context in which both Maier and Lee place the rioters is, I believe, both more specific and intended to inspire sympathy. Lee specifically discusses how rioting was a method used to address problems that had been addressed through more formal, institutional means, that left those parties involved dissatisfied.\u00a0 They used the riot to address the specific issue in a manner that they found acceptable, with as little violence as possible, and then went on their way.<\/p>\n
I argue, however, that these riotous citizens, though certainly more peaceful than, say, the rioters of Los Angeles after the Rodney King verdict, were sending a clear message of their willingness to resort to violence. Though mild, the authors do mention occasions when they did use violence against people as part of their methodology. Furthermore, I question whether their actions are as praiseworthy as they might seem. What were the alternatives that citizens might have used, if they refused to follow a course of violence?<\/p>\n
Some may say that violence itself was the language of difficult disputes in early America, and that could certainly be a possibility. As one of the authors (I forget which) makes clear, the mob itself could just as easily be the sheriff’s posse carrying out colonial justice in the absence of a military or formal police presence. Yet, the elite seemed surprisingly restrained in their use of force to address these riots. As Maier described, the governing officials often attempted to address the sources of a mob’s unhappiness, rather than their behavior itself. Not only is that response laudable, but surprising, since we might assume that a riotous society would be more inclined to violence from all individuals.<\/p>\n
These observations raise the question of whether these officials were acting in self-interest, out of a desire to avoid being tossed into the sea or tarred and feathered, or if they simply and benevolently rose above the melee to address the root issues. The cynic in me says the former, and logical evidence seems to line up behind that side. For instance, elites are quick to use force to address mob violence today, when they have a professional and often militarized police force and, in extreme cases, the military, to draw upon. In cases Lee mentioned, militia members partook in the riots. It seems an intelligent strategic move on the part of elites to make their concessions seem voluntary and benevolent, rather than to allow the mob to realize their absolute power in a system where the state shared the power of violence with the people.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This week, “Uprisings and Civil Authority in Eighteen-Century America,” by Pauline Maier and “Crowds and soldiers in revolutionary North Carolina” by Wayne Lee worked together to paint a detailed picture in my mind of how violence functioned in early and pre-revolution America. Ian Solcz correctly observed in his blog posting that both authors create sympathy … <\/p>\n