It is complained of the early Negroes that they were “isolated,” that no maritime access was possible to the African interior, hence that they had no opportunity for contact with the cultures of Europe and the Mediterranean. This is a specious argument, too. Every standard history of Africa makes plain, implicitly or explicitly, that early Negroes did indeed have contact with the outer world. Phoenicians, Arabs, Libyans, Hamites all found their way across Africa. Romans came, and Persians, Chinese, Turks, Berbers, Indians, Portuguese. Nothing aroused the Negro from his primitive sleep. He did not adapt. He did not copy. He did not profit.
In 1525, when Pizarro invaded Peru, he found a magnificent Incan civilization flourishing in the almost impenetrable fastness of the Andes. Here, indeed, was isolation from the currents of European thought! No maritime access here! Yet the Incas had built temples and labyrinths and massive palaces of stone. The palace at Cuzco offered fountains, heated pools, intricate goldwork, and polished stones. There were public granaries, a three-hundred-mile road, a decimal system, an advanced astronomy. European explorers who sought trade in Africa found nothing there to compare with this. As Nathaniel Weyl has written, the decisive fact is that centuries of intermittent contact with the growing culture and technology of the West “did not serve to stir the Negroes from their millennial torpor, to quicken their minds and prod their curiosity, to induce them at least to borrow if not to invent.”
Franz Boas has sought earnestly to explain all this away. So has Basil Davidson in Lost Cities of Africa. So has W. E. B. DuBois in The World and Africa. So has Johnson in African Glory. But when it comes down to evidence acceptable to rational appraisal, their romantic conjectures fall pitifully short of the minimum requirements of objective scholarship. It is possible to accept Boas’ judgment that some African wood carvers and potters have produced work “original in form, and executed with great care.” Coon’s slightly more enthusiastic appraisal is that Africa’s Negro tribes “developed social systems of considerable complexity and a high art, the quality of which the white world is just beginning to appreciate.” There is merit in a thoughtful appraisal by the Oxford anthropologist, E. E. Evans-Pritchard, of the complex system of witchcraft, oracles, and magic that he found among the Azande tribe of Central Africa. Granted certain postulates, he says, inferences and actions based upon a system of witchcraft are sound. But is Western civilization really prepared to “grant the certain postulates” of witchcraft in order to find a rationale for praising African culture? No. Let it be conceded that certain African arts and crafts reached a tolerably interesting stage of development. Modern dance and contemporary jazz doubtless owe much to the instinctive rhythms of ancient tribal rites. But south of the Sahara there was no literate civilization, no intellects at work to comprehend and solve the abstract problems; and Western Europe was not built by basket-weaving.
Let us move along. The story is told of a conversation between Boswell and Dr. Johnson, in which Boswell mentioned Bishop Berkeley’s theory of the nonexistence of matter. Boswell said he was satisfied the theory was not true, but he confessed he was unable to refute it. Whereupon Dr. Johnson kicked a large stone until his foot rebounded from it. “I refute it thus,” he said. There comes a time when the common, uncomplicated observation of ordinary men makes better sense than the partisan inventions of social anthropologists. Against their gauzy dreams of African “civilization,” the obscenities of the Mau Mau and the atrocities of the Congolese provide reality as hard as Dr. Johnson’s stone. One refutes it thus.
In 1944, Otto Klineberg brought together in one volume several of the monographs prepared by American students on the Negro as background memoranda for Dr. Gunnar Myrdal, the Swedish sociologist whose subsequent An American Dilemma was to be seen generally, and influentially, by the Supreme Court of the United States. The first paper in Klineberg’s collection was put together by Dr. Guy B. Johnson, professor of sociology and anthropology at the University of North Carolina. Dr. Johnson served for three years as executive director of the liberal Southern Regional Council; he is a trustee of Howard University. These credentials strongly suggest that Dr. Johnson was picked by the Myrdal team to describe “the Stereotype of the American Negro” on the assumption that he would summarize the popular conception of the Negro only to say, in the end, that there isn’t a word of truth in it. If so, the Myrdal associates must have been startled by the blunt memorandum Dr. Johnson prepared. He went through the works of thirty-one representative Negro writers and forty-two representative white writers, covering the entire spectrum of political coloration, and boiled down his findings under twelve headings. His list, he emphasized, was not a list of “race” characteristics. It was “a descriptive list, based upon a fair degree of consensus, of the interests, habits and tendencies which might serve to characterize the ‘typical’ Negro.” This list of “Negro personality and culture traits” follows:
Mental: Relatively low intellectual interests; good memory; facile associations of ideas.
Temperamental: Gregariousness or high interest in social contacts; philosophical or get-the-most-out-of-life type of adjustment; high aesthetic interests; love of subtlety and indirection; adaptability.
Aesthetic: Love of music and dance; oratory and power of self-expression; high interest in and appreciation of the artistic.
Economic: Relatively low interest in material things, such as care of money, property, tools, etc.; line of least resistance in habits of work; relative lack of self-reliance.
Personal morals: Double standard of morals and ethics, i.e., one for his behavior toward Negroes and another for his behavior toward whites; in sexual conduct, higher interest in sex, high sexual indulgence, and larger sphere of permissive sexual relations.