Right-Mindedness and Racism: Dixon and Griffith Take on the New York Globe

By Ed Tabor, with comment by Sarah Ballan

[1] On the April 6th 1915, the editor of the New York Globe rhetorically asked whether it is in the best interest of the country to allow the viewing of The Birth of A Nation. The editor argues that the film misrepresents history, promotes racism, and encourages disunity in the nation. The editor brings forth the question by appealing to the down-to-earth logic of the “right-minded person.” Yet both Clansman author Thomas Dixon and Birth director D.W. Griffith take issue with the editorial. Through the use of tricky rhetorical techniques and questionable sources, Dixon and Griffith present their defense of the film. Of most interest, is the communication that exists between the three letters, the Globe representing a first statement and Dixon and Griffith communicating with the first in dialogic response.

[2] Initially, the Globe editor asks, “what should be the attitude of every right minded person toward attempts to revive the passions of the Civil War period, relight the fires of sectionalism, and intensify race prejudices that are unhappily still much alive?” Dixon doesn’t respond directly to that question; instead, he refers to the reaction of a sample of “right-minded persons” -- albeit a skewed sample. Dixon chooses three clergymen of New York: “Rev. Thomas B. Gregory, Universalist; the Rev. Charles H. Parkhurst, D.D. Presbyterian, and the Rev. John Talbot Smith DD., Roman Catholic.” Needless to say, Dixon makes no mention of any African American clergymen. These three clergymen supposedly create a list of six things that present the importance of the film. These six points are clearly propaganda and racism mixed all in one, and it seems that Dixon may indeed have sought out clergymen who agreed with his viewpoint. Dixon argues that these divines found no flaw in the film and, in fact, they “did not suggest a single change or cut, but fully agreed with the high praise given by the dramatic critic of the Globe .” Dixon, it seems, doesn’t tolerate difference, and his jibe at the dissension in the Globe itself is a signal of weakness in that newspaper. This appeal to like-mindedness in itself reveals Dixon’s own purpose -- to seek for “purity” of thought among other things.

[3] The Globe editor tells us that “[f]ew of us are competent to pass judgment with respect to the tangled facts of the Reconstruction period. A fair and impartial narrative has never been written and probably never will be.” Incredibly, Dixon must be asking the Globe editor to believe that his “jury of three” must not only be Doctors of Divinity but also experts in the Civil War period. (see comment by Sarah Ballan) Dixon’s choice of clergymen rather than historians relates to his sense of “moral cause” (it also shows allegiance to his own clerical background). In a sense, the conversation between the Globe editor and Dixon goes into the territory of relative morality. The Globe editor appears to go with a progressive idea of the “right-minded” thinker who wishes to heal the wounds of the past through positive actions, a course of action that W.E.B. Du Bois often promoted. Dixon moralizes a kind of national purity in his statements. This is specifically presented in the six points of the clergymen, most notably the first and third: “(1) It reunites in common sympathy and love all sections of the country. [. . .] (3) It tends to prevent the lowering of the standard of our citizenship by its mixture with Negro blood.” Dixon unapologetically responds to the Globe editor with his own moral standard, based upon his own judges of normalcy.

[4] While Dixon was most vociferous in his belief that the film was moral, Griffith spends much of his time arguing in defense of artistic qualities of the film. He found most offense in the Globe editor’s reference to the “purely sordid reasons” behind the film. Specifically the Globe editor divides the sordid qualities of the film into two categories, racism and capital -- hence his title, “Capitalizing on Race Hatred.” I don’t think there is any way we can doubt the film is racist and insensitive to the position of African Americans. Whether Griffith was in it just for profit is another question entirely. The Globe editor infers what he believes are the reasons behind Griffith’s film: “To make a few dirty dollars men are willing to pander to depraved tastes and to foment a race antipathy.” The sense that the film was made only for filthy lucre seems to be the unkindest cut of all to the besieged Griffith. As Griffith asserts in his letter, he wasn’t making a pornographic film to enflame passions, but one that would encourage thought in “intelligent theater-goers” -- and to them the “moving drama told its own story.”

[5] Griffith’s belief -- that the film isn’t for everyone-- is present in much of his writing. His reference to the film as art also tells something about his approach to the story, he argues that his film was meant “to reveal the beautiful possibilities of the art of motion pictures and to tell a story which is based upon truth in every detail.” Therefore, some art may not be for everyone, and art is not reality as it appears but a transformation of reality that is true in “detail.” Curiously, Griffith appears to have strategically omitted professing that the larger picture of the film may not be true. If this was Griffith’s intent, it makes a very clever response to the Globe editor’s statement about “the big facts that shine out in confusion.” Dixon does exactly the same thing when it comes to questioning of historical fact in the film. He avoids the larger picture of the historical period and references a specific detail of the film. In his reference to the Globe editor’s attack on the Stoneman /Stevens character, Dixon points out that he has the accurate story and is more than willing to present data for this one episode of the film. Dixon was apparently historically correct in at least one case. Dixon builds credibility in one aspect of his writing, enabling him to draw the reader’s attention away from the big picture.

[6] As Dixon is talented at leading the reader away from the larger argument, Griffith is not so effective in this area. Griffith’s final point in his letter undercuts his earlier proclamation of the truthfulness of art. Instead of addressing the film, he becomes fixated on the issue of intermarriage between races and even goes as far as criticizing the NAACP and Du Bois’ The Crisis. Griffith, in what appear to be tone of outrage, asks: “Do you know what this society means by ‘anti-intermarriage legislation’? It means that they successfully opposed bills which were framed to prohibit the marriage of Negroes to whites.” At this point, the reader may indeed have forgotten about art and is left to see only the racist agenda of Griffith.

[7] The three points of view clashing together in cluster of dialogue and argument present a number of difficulties in unwinding the truth. All three writers are somewhat informal in their approaches and ask the readers to generally assume the facts they write are true. All have a certain bias and attack their opponents with honorable and dishonorable strategies. Yet Dixon and Griffith reveal more of themselves than I believe they intended to do. Instead of simply arguing the issues that the Globe editor puts forth, both Dixon and Griffith take a specifically nationalistic and white supremacist angle, while apparently trying to argue the moral, historical, and artistic qualities of the film.

Comments

Sarah Ballan 7/18/12

Yes, these people are not historians, and therefore they are in no position of authority to declare the events truthful. It disturbs me that this is what Griffith truly believes is a correct historical account. Instead of claiming that the film is true to the time period as a whole, Griffith should claim it is accurate in terms of a ex-confederate white Southerner’s perspective of the event. Griffith initially defends himself by saying that the captions “reiterate that the events depicted upon the screen are not meant as a reflection upon any race or people of today.” To me this sounds like an excuse to express his biased feelings; he is defending his film before the controversy begins! If a picture is worth one thousand words, imagine how influential a three-hour movie can be. Even if the film was not meant to have any connotation of present-day blacks, it clearly suggests that blacks during the Reconstruction period were pigs. Furthermore, it was introduced to the public during a time period in which racial tension was still a big deal.

Although Griffith and Dixon proclaim that their story is authentic and non-biased, it is clear to me in the film that we are meant to feel more sympathy for the white southerner: their way of life is completely over, as they have no slaves to work the plantations. In addition, they have lost their right to vote and former slaves treat the women disrespectfully. Although the white southerners were going through a dramatic change in lifestyle, so were the southern blacks. They had recently become free men and were having a hard time adjusting as well. The Globe editor is not pleased with the way in which black people are portrayed and insists that it is a “cruel distortion of history.” Dixon concludes his response to the Globe with a question: “Is it a crime to present a black man, seeing we have so many bad white ones?” In answer to his question, no, it is not a crime to present a black man, as not all were good intentioned. Many, I would imagine, would have hostility towards whites after being treated as slaves for many years and would jump at the chance to lash out at them. However, that is not the point! Dixon sheds positive light on hate groups like the KKK. He takes a man like Lynch, who everyone (especially the Stoneman’s) thought was trustworthy, and makes him out to be a menace. This tells the viewer that no black man should be trusted even if he is your friend, because no black man is civilized. Lynch acts like an animal when he does not get his way with Elise.

At first, Ben Cameron is seen helpless in the hospital after war. The viewer starts to care for him as a character. We see his sentimental side â€" he carries a picture of Elise around in his pocket, telling us he is a hopeless romantic. Throughout the story he treats her respectfully and earns her trust. However, when he starts the KKK, probably to seek revenge on the savages who destroyed his home, Elise falls out of love with him because she doesn’t agree with what he is doing. Even though Ben is a temporary “bad guy,” he is able to redeem himself. At the end of the film, Ben’s credibility as a noble, caring person is restored when he and his Klansmen rescue Elise from entrapment. This sends the message across that the KKK is in fact necessary to protect white women from the animalistic black men. In the end, Ben is looked upon as a hero an Elise marries him, making the bold statement that it is better to end up with a Klan member than a mulatto.