The Lookout 2017 by The Lookout: A Journal of Undergraduate Research at ECU

A Journal of Undergraduate Research at

East Carolina University Volume 5, Fall 2017

The Lookout An Undergraduate Research Journal at East Carolina University

Volume 5, Issue 1 Fall 2017

2017 Lookout Authors

Taylor Kriminger

Samantha Grzybek

Caroline Parrish

Kristen Williams

Brian Austin Thaxton

Noah S. Shuler

BriceĂąo Bowrey

Katie Chandler

Editorial Staff

Art Team

Publicity Team

Alyssa Coleman LaTaysha Stokes Logan Howell

Anna Long Garret Yarbrough Kestra James Kristen Williams Tay Peed

Communication Team Becca Johnson Paige Smith Victoria Dixon

Design Team Alea Hansinger Haley Kane Jackie Nelson Justice Phinx

Submissions Team Caeden Dudley Chelsea Reinoehl Drake Heath

Website Team Jacob Clemmons Tim Robinson

Production Team Kristen Boggs Lindsay Barefoot Rez Arranguez Sammy Gaudette

Additional Assistance Teresa Dale (Logo Design)

Managing Editors Donna Kain Suzan Flanagan

Contents

The Changing Middle East: Iraq and Syria................................................................................1 By Taylor Kriminger The Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics of Russian Compared with English ..........................9 By Samantha Grzybek The Effects of Race on Political Party Affiliation: A Statistical Analysis ..............................17 By Caroline Parrish Rashomon: Coming into the Light ...........................................................................................29 By Kristen Williams From the Temple of God to the Temple of the Proletariat: Iconography and the Soviet Aesthetic ............................................................................................................................37 By Brian Austin Thaxton The American Civil War and Its Effect on Religiosity in North Carolina ..............................49 By Noah S. Shuler Alternative Theories on the Loss of the British Battlecruisers at the Battle of Jutland ...........69 By BriceĂąo Bowrey An Analysis of Existentialism and the Ontological Possibility of Romantic Love .................81 By Katie Chandler

THE CHANGING MIDDLE EAST: IRAQ AND SYRIA Taylor Kriminger Taylor Kriminger is a political science and history double major and is in his senior year. Abstract: This research paper aims to tackle the question of stability in Iraq and Syria through the various factors that shape these diplomatic entities. It further discusses the role and future of Iraq and Syria through a comprehensive analysis of the regions, while highlighting the main subsects that affect the eventual conclusion, paying specific attention to the role of the Kurds and the development of ISIS and their impact on stability in the region.

Introduction The Middle East has been the hot spot of global conversation for the past several decades. This unique region of the world is faced with a cornucopia of issues spanning from domestic disputes, economic reform, and the sheer inability to grant the citizens of the region the rudimentary essentials of life. Throughout history, there have been many attempts to find stability in the region as turmoil ensues, but seldom have these attempts been completely successful. As the global community moves into the future it becomes increasingly important to understand these nations, their issues, and the factors that contribute to the instability so that governmental institutions can determine whether and how stability can be reached.

Perhaps the two most profound moments in recent Middle Eastern history were the rise and fall of Iraqâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Saddam Hussein and the coming-to-power of Syriaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Al-Assad. It is evident that the Middle East has seen its fair share of political altercations, as chaos and turmoil continues to be detrimental to the people and societal institutions. Regions, such as Iraq and Syria, have been heavily involved and impacted; therefore, the future of the Middle East is dependent on whether these countries will be able to achieve a moderate level of stability. Iraq: The Role and Future of the State Since the invasion of Iraq in 2003 by the United States military, the Iraqi government has been tasked with rebuilding the state to its once fairly stable

The Changing Middle East stature. This has proved to be a momentous task for the fractured Iraqi government to undertake while aggressive sub-state actors are within their borders imposing their agenda on innocent civilians. Scholars have noted that, “When the US invasion began in March 2003, the regime collapsed rapidly, armed forces deserted, and many bureaucrats looted their own places of employment” (Choucair-Vizoso and Lust ed., 496). This period of American intervention launched the previously stable state into a period of turbulent uncertainty that generated violence from a radicalized populace. Scholars have recognized that the United States military campaign of “Shock and Awe,” from March 2003 to April of the same year, proved to be the deadliest to Iraqi civilians by killing an estimated 6,700 people in just twenty-one days (Choucair-Vizoso and Lust ed., 509). This event gave rise to the American wave of displacement, subjecting the civilians to be influenced by radicalized sub-state actors, such as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIS). The post-2003 era of Iraq marked the beginning of the insurgency. The insurgency comprised several groups of fighters, among them the major groups are the Ba’athists who are hard line loyalists of Saddam Hussein, including former high ranking military and intelligence officers of the Saddam era. These groups are believed to be seeking to regain power. (Nazir, 60)

The dissolution of the Iraqi national army made it increasingly easy for these armed factions to form (Nazir, 62). ISIS originated from al-Qa’ida and gave rise to increased conflict in Iraq in 2014 (Choucair-Vizoso and Lust ed., 508). The Islamic State has produced additional problems further complicating the question of post-2003 stability of Iraq. They have “targeted members of nonMuslim minorities, Shi’a, and Sunnis who contest their authority,” which has generated another intense wave of population displacement (Choucair-Vizoso and Lust ed., 509). ISIS has used many tactics to recruit new members for their cause; tactics such as the utilization of social media to fuel their “jihad” are just some of the propaganda platforms exploited by the organization. The members of ISIS use various social media sites to recruit willing believers to submit themselves to their cause to carry out various radicalized orders, even to the point of a surgical suicide bombing. Scholars have stated that, “ISIS, like no other terrorist group, has been able to personally contact and groom new recruits, often using the intimacy of communication and encryption provided by social media apps such as Skype, Telegram, and Whatsapp” (Speckhard, et al., 85). However, other groups have certainly used the internet in hopes of furthering their cause, but, “what differentiates ISIS from other extremist

The Changing Middle East groups, however, is its ability to utilize its online campaign to both attract and recruit potential followers and promote its brand as a serious, powerful, and ruthless organization” (Speckhard, et al., 84). This rare form of efficient terrorism has wreaked havoc on the state of Iraq. The future of Iraq is dependent on a plethora of issues. Scholars have stated that, “The Iraqi government has a massive internal construction and peace building hand that requires a single-minded focus on dealing with these issues. It also needs to address “the pockets of insurgency, the threats of terrorism, and lawlessness” (S. Hussain and R. Hussain, 23). Some academics have suggested that in order to achieve stability in Iraq, they must not be affiliated with the United States (S. Hussain and R. Hussain, 23). However, others dictate that the United States should be more involved (Nakash, 26). For example, “the flow of refugees is one particular concern, as refugees who are not assimilated or well policed may carry conflict with them,” which could be reduced with a calculated diplomatic response by the United States to “increase the governmental capacity of neighboring states” (Byman and Pollack, 67). Yitzhak Nakash stated, “over time, a relationship between the United States and Iraqi Shi’ites built on trust could facilitate a modus vivendi, perhaps even a dialogue, between America and Iran,” which could prove to be a gateway to stabilizing the

entire Middle East (26). Therefore, there is still much to be done before Iraq can become a stable state once again. Syria: The Role and Future of the State In recent years, Syria has been in a state of turmoil as it is propelled into a civil war. This civil war coupled with an ongoing and often devastating conflict with the militant group ISIS has overwhelmed the region and its people. Following antigovernmental protests, which were quickly responded to with a violent reaction by the Syrian government, large uprisings by oppositional groups sparked a series of conflicts that furiously ravaged the country leaving in its wake destroyed cities and refugees. Following a series of bombings in late 2016, the city of Aleppo became overrun by forces and the lasting stronghold in the eastern margin of the city was lost (Mercy Corps, 2016). As these conflicts escalate, the Syrian crisis has begun to become wide-reaching in its effects and the global community has become deeply entrenched in these issues as a result of Syrian refugees fleeing the region. Approximately eleven million Syrians have been displaced and are seeking solace in neighboring countries and abroad (Mercy Corps, 2016). The future of Syria is quite uncertain as the Syrian crisis has devastated the country and people. The division among the government, the presence of ISIS, and the insistence of the Kurds for their own state,

The Changing Middle East only further entrenches the region in uncertainty and instability. Stability in Syria and Iraq is unlikely given the current circumstances but is not completely out of reach. The division among the people proves to be far reaching and empowered as each sect urges for their own needs to be met. While ISIS has been encountered with great force from many of these groups and the involvement of global powers has aided in the success of defeating major Islamic strongholds, ISIS still maintains a significant force in these regions and has successfully recruited members from the global community. The overall division in these areas despite fighting a common enemy serves as a catalyst for instability. If the divided parties could propagate a common cause and focus on the issues at hand rather than territorial stakes, then future stability could be possible (S. Hussain & R. Hussain, 23). However, this seems very unlikely as efforts from outside mediators have often been abandoned soon after they have been agreed upon. The Kurds in both Syria and Iraq have great potential to help mend some of this division. Their similar heritage and efforts to dismantle ISIS’s grip on their countries could provide a platform for stability. Analyzing their role in the war on ISIS and time of crisis could provide unique insight and a solution for the ongoing and past issues that face these regions.

The Kurds: A Key Component to the War on ISIS and Stability The Kurdish population, approximately twenty-five million, occupy numerous and often oil-rich areas of the Middle East spanning many countries. A people who are no strangers to skirmish have been dragged into the conflict and chaos that has caused extreme instability throughout the regions but more specifically Iraq and Syria (Di Giovanni, 2016). The role of the Kurds in the war against ISIS has been significant in nature. As these factions of people seek out to eliminate the Islamic State from their countries as well as the territory they hope to one day claim as their own, they are also at war with each other. This has created a very interesting and unique situation in which this collective force fighting against an invasive and very destructive militant group is on the brink of a civil war that will further complicate stability of these regions. Syrian and Iraqi Kurds: Gallant Fighters or Perpetrators of Instability? The Syrian Kurds can be recognized as the PYD, Syrian Democratic forces, and the YPG; all of which have quickly become successful in their fight against the Islamic State. “The YPG are widely regarded as one of the most effective forces in the fight against IS…” (BBC Monitoring, 2016). Unfortunately, this group does not only witness opposition from the Islamic State but they have also faced hostility

The Changing Middle East from Turkey and its allies due to a supposed link of the YPG to a rebel group PKK, the Kurdistan Workers Party, who have fought for autonomy since the 1980s. Despite Turkey’s hostility towards the Kurds, its international allies have not turned their backs on this group and often encourage the Kurds’ continued efforts in dismantling the Islamic State. Being backed by the United States and many other international powers has allowed the Syrian Kurds to make numerous advances on the Islamic State, and in spring of 2016 they successfully depleted and ultimately forced ISIS forces out of Manbij, Syria (BBC Monitoring, 2016). This was a significant success for the Syrian Kurds and has largely attracted praise and support from the United States and other global governments (Bar’el, 2017). The role of the YPG and the Syrian Democratic forces has been vital to depleting ISIS’s stronghold on the area. The role of ISIS in the Middle East has served as a catalyst for instability and chaos in the region and so it is essential that the opposition from Turkey be eliminated and qualms over territory be minimized so that this group can continue its successful front in the war on ISIS and eventually create an environment suitable for stability. The Iraqi Kurds have faced large opposition from the Iraqi government in the past decades but despite this they remain relevant in their fight for their

country against ISIS. Their successes are just as significant as their Syrian counterpart. The Iraqi Kurds also known as the KRG, Peshmerga1, and KDP have successfully battled ISIS forces in the past years to liberate areas in Iraq from its control. One successful show of force by the Iraqi Kurds took place following the massacre of Yazidi citizens in 2014. Iraqi Kurds with aid from the American Air Force pushed the Islamic State militant group out of the city. Liberating this area was significant not only for its appeal to the Kurds for settlement, but also because it is needed to avert ISIS from being able to freely pass between Iraq and Syria (Bar’el, 2017). Since the early days of ISIS, the Peshmerga forces have been highly effective and skilled in their strategies and force against the militant group (Di Giovanni, 2016). The Iraqi Kurds have quickly made alliances with the Turkish government in a joint force that not only attacks ISIS but also fellow Kurds in Syria. Once again, we see that the Kurds play a vital role in the war on ISIS and ultimate stability of Iraq and Syria. However, their continued efforts in seeking autonomy and carrying out attacks on fellow Kurds in Syria pose as a catalyst for civil war and ultimately increased instability throughout these regions. Conclusion By analyzing the activities that have occurred in Syria and Iraq, it becomes 5

The Changing Middle East increasing clear that multiple factors have contributed to the instability and chaotic conditions that have a stronghold in these regions. The division among the numerous religious, ethnic, and anti-governmental groups has caused a fractured state to occur and has only been magnified by the destruction ISIS has imposed on the people and countries. Through an exploration of each of these groups’ causes and the overall conditions of the countries in the present and future we can see that providing a solution is no easy task. However, stability is essential so that these countries do not continue to be ravaged by militant groups and division. The instability of these areas has begun to be far reaching in nature and

affects not only internal operations of Syria and Iraq but also penetrates the global community. The refugee migration, global recruiting efforts of the Islamic State, and efforts by Turkey to commit hostile acts against Syrian Kurds has drawn a global audience and entrenched the world with their problems. In the future, it seems pertinent to establish stability throughout these two nations so that the Middle East can bring itself back from the chaos it has sunken into. By adapting a more centralized effort in disbanding militant groups and steering away from localized hostile acts and efforts for numerous autonomous states, it is possible to see stability return to these countries entrenched in turmoil.

Endnotes 1. Peshmerga is the military of Kurdistan Regional Government and Iraqi Kurdistan.

Bibliography Bar’el, Z. (2017). “War against ISIS and Syrian Kurds’ aspirations could spark another civil war.” Retrieved from http://www.haaretz.com/middle-east-news/syria/1.778268. BBC Monitoring. (2016). “Turkey v Syria’s Kurds v Islamic State.” Retrieved from http://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-33690060. Byman, D., & Pollack, K. (2008). “Iraq’s Long-Term Impact on Jihadist Terrorism.” The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 618, 55–68. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/40375775. Choucair-Vizoso, J. (2017). “Iraq.” In The Middle East, ed. Ellen Lust. Thousand Oaks, California: CQ Press. Di Giovanni, J. (2016). “Why the battle against ISIS in Mosul is so important for Kurdistan.” Retrieved from http://www.newsweek.com/2016/10/28/battle-against-isis-mosulkurdistan-independence-511041.html.

The Changing Middle East Hussain, S., & Hussain, R. (2010). “Current Developments in Iraq and Future Dispensation.” Policy Perspectives, 7(1), 17–23. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org.jproxy.lib.ecu.edu/stable/pdf/42909251.pdf. Mercy Corps. (2016). “Quick facts: What you need to know about the Syria crisis.” Mercy Corps. Retrieved from https://www.mercycorps.org/articles/iraq-jordan-lebanonsyria-turkey/quick-facts-what-you-need-know-about-syria-crisis. Nakash, Y. (2003). “The Shi’Ites and the Future of Iraq.” Foreign Affairs, 82(4), 17–26. Retrieved from www.jstor.org/stable/20033646. Nazir, M. (2006). “Democracy, Islam and Insurgency in Iraq.” Pakistan Horizon, 59(3), 47– 65. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/41394370. Speckhard, A., Shajkovci, A., & Yayla A. (2017). “What to Expect Following a Military Defeat of ISIS in Syria and Iraq?” Journal of Terrorism Research, 8(1), 81–89. Retrieved from http://jtr.st-andrews.ac.uk/articles/10.15664/jtr.1341/.

THE MORPHOLOGY, SYNTAX, AND PHONETICS OF RUSSIAN COMPARED WITH ENGLISH Samantha Grzybek Samantha Grzybek is a senior at East Carolina University. She is a double major in Russian Studies and English, with a minor in Linguistics. She is very passionate about learning foreign languages, particularly Russian, Polish, and French. Samantha, with her TESOL certificate, one day hopes to teach English abroad in countries where these languages are spoken, as she hopes to one day gain fluency in these languages, as well as teach people about the many benefits of learning a foreign language. Abstract: This paper analyzes the different processes of the Russian language, such as its morphologic, syntactic, and phonological principles, while also comparing and contrasting these processes with that of the English language. The paper, overall, shows how certain linguistic aspects of the Russian language are vastly different from English, as well as other Western European languages, proving Russian a more difficult language to learn for many speakers of Western European languages.

Introduction The Russian language, like most Slavic languages spoken in Eastern Europe, has not only a distinctly different alphabet from many speakers of Western languages but also harbors a distinctly different grammar. Due to this difference, Russian can prove to be very difficult to learn for many speakers of Western languages that are not Slavic, such as Spanish, French, and English. The reasons for this vary with regards to the different linguistic aspects of the Russian language, such as its distinct morphologic, syntactic, and even phonetic processes. These linguistic

processes are unique in several ways to the Slavic language family, as they do not have patterns that many Western languages must endure. In this paper, I will be conducting thorough research on these three linguistic aspects of the Russian language while comparing them to the ways in which English is expressed in each aspect. Morphology Morphology, one of the main linguistic processes being discussed in this paper, investigates the structure of words and word formations in language. Here, I will discuss the means by which the Russian

Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics language uses a case system, followed by its use of conjugation, as well as its use of tense (perfective and imperfective verbs) in comparison with the English language. Unlike English grammar, the Russian language uses what is called a case system to specify the meaning of a word or sentence. In Russian, when a word is put into a specific case, the ending of the word in that sentence or clause will decline using the proper declension for that case. For example, if one were to use the prepositional case in a sentence, the direct object would decline as follows: [Russian Pronunciation] Ya v bibliotek-e [Literal Translation] I in library [Syntactic Sentence] I am in the library This example shows that the word biblioteka (library) is in the prepositional case, meaning that, because the preposition v (in) is used in the sentence, the direct object had to decline from the nominative case to the prepositional case. Overall, the Russian language uses six different cases for different grammatical purposes. All declensions of the cases of Russian are inflectional affixes, and have a set for both nouns and adjectives. The nominative case is the most basic of all the cases, as it shows the word in its original form. However, all the other cases will require some form of inflectional declension. The five other cases are the

accusative, genitive, dative, instrumental, and prepositional (explained above). These cases are used for an array of distinct reasons in the language, such as identifying both a direct or indirect object, showing possession of something, showing that someone or something is in a specific location, or that an action is occurring with someone or something. The accusative case, for example, is used only for naming a direct object in a sentence. If the direct object is inanimate, it will only decline if the object is feminine. However, if the direct object is animate in a sentence, such as a living person or being, the declensions will change to the genitive case inflections. All the cases in Russian need an affixed inflectional declension at the end of certain words, which is something not found in the English language, other than the occasional inflectional <-s> to make a word plural (Robin, Evans-Romaine, and Shatalina, 2012). Another concept of morphology that is quite different between English and Russian is verb conjugation. In English, speakers may use simple suffix inflections such as <-ing> to create the present participle, or even just an inflectional <-s> to put the verb in the present tense. Additionally, to form the past tense in English, the verb is inflected with<-ed> suffix. However, in Russian, the conjugation patterns are more systematic and are used in a sentence dependent on its subject. For example, if one were to say I

Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics love in Russian, the sentence would be constructed as follows: [Russian Pronunciation] Ya lyubl-yu. [Literal Translation] I love. If one changes the subject from I to he, On lyubit, there is a change of suffix inflection in the verb lyubitâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (to love) from subject to subject. Therefore, the conjugated form of the verb would now be [Russian Pronunciation] On lyub-it/ ona lyub-it [Literal Translation] He loves/ she loves. This change is not as prominent in English, as in some instances of subject change, the form of the verb will still be the same. Take the example of the verb to read. If we use the subject I, the sentence would be I read. Now, if we change the subject from I to They, the form of the verb will still be the same in they read, as it is in I read. Although there are instances of irregularities occurring in both languages where these rules would not always apply, it is still true to say that the conjugation patterns in Russian are more in-depth and systematic than that of the inflections of English verbs. Another important aspect of morphology in the Russian language are perfective and imperfective verbs, more commonly known simply as aspect. While in English, aspect is used by implementing an auxiliary or helping verb in front of the

main verb of the sentence, Russian verbs of aspect will form a prefix at the start of the verb. These prefixes are normally <po->, <pro->, <vii->, or <c->, just to name a few. Like auxiliaries in English, these prefixes, which are used in the perfective aspect of a verb, will tell whether an action has either already been completed, or yet to be done. For example, the imperfective verb chitatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, which means to read, is in the imperfective aspect, meaning that the action is in the process of being completed. However, if we add the prefix <pro->, the meaning of the verb will change from imperfective to perfective, which would mean that the action has been completed. Overall, morphology is important for Russian in many ways, as it allows a person to understand the basic constructions of the language, such as its use of cases, as well as helping to change certain meanings of words in a sentence. Russian and English vary in diverse ways in terms of morphology, as it seems that Russian has a heavier set of morphologic constructions than English, based on its case system, conjugation of verbs, and its use of verbal aspect to form different meanings of words. This shows that Russian has many more bound morphemes that can mean many different things than English have. Due to this, Russian is said to be a fusional language in terms of morphologic typography (Dressler et al. 2006).

Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics Syntax Syntax, in linguistics, is the study of where words are structured in a sentence and why. Here, I will be discussing the overall syntactic typology of the Russian language and will compare it thatEnglish. Additionally, I will show how negation in Russian and English are structured differently. In the Russian language, the syntactic typology is typically classified as subject-verb-object (SVO), which is the same typological classification that the English language has. However, due to Russian’s extensive use of the case system, word order can be very flexible, while in English, word order is a lot more concrete. Russian syntax is very flexible as opposed to English because the inflections of case endings are what decides its meaning in a typical Russian sentence. Therefore, Russians may casually change the syntax of a sentence or phrase, merely for stylistic purposes. An example of a stylistic syntactic change in Russian that many speakers would suggest is appropriate is in SOV: [Russian Pronunciation] Ya tebya lyubl-yu,

[Literal Translation] I love you. The fact that the object precedes the verb is merely a stylistic choice for many Russian speakers. In the above example, the sentence structure exemplifies a subject-object-verb (SOV) typology, which is subject to occur in many instances in various Russian constructs. However, in other sentences, the verb will normally come in front of the object: [Russian Pronunciation] Ya chita-yu knig-u. [Literal Translation] I read book. [Syntactic Sentence] I read the book. As previously stated, it would not be too grammatically incorrect if the object came before the verb in this sentence, as the suffixed accusative case marking of u would show that ‘knigu’ is the direct object of the sentence (Kortlandt and Кортландт, 2008). Because the typical syntactic typology of the Russian language is usually SVO, regardless of syntactic shifts in the Figure 1: Syntax Typology

[Literal Translation] I you love. [Syntactic Sentence] I love you, specifier

and its usual form: [Russian Pronunciation] Ya lyubl-yu tebya,

T (head)

Complement

Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics language, a typical sentence syntax tree of Russian looks like that in Figure 1. This syntactic typology is the same type that we see in English. Therefore, this means that, in both English and Russian constructs, the “specifier is the subject of the sentence and the complement of the TP is a verb phrase, or predicate” (Fromkin, Rodman, and Hyams, 2014). One other syntactic differerence between the English and Russian languages are the ways in which they will negate a sentence. For example, while English’s prescriptive rules seem to frown upon the use of double negation, Russian uses this construct. In fact, there are instances where even a triple negation, or even quadruple, could occur in a single sentence. An example of a simple sentence negation could be shown in Russian by taking the phrase, [Russian Pronunciation] Kto chita-et [Literal Translation] Who reads, and then making it negative by adding a prefixed ni to the subject of the sentence, as well as adding the negative particle ne before the verb, like: nikto ne chitaet. Because there are two instances of negation in this sentence, it is considered a double negation, which is something that English normally does not have in its normal constructs, even though, descriptively speaking, it is not considered incorrect. However, if we were to translate the previous example from Russian into

English, it would say no one never reads, which would make little sense to speakers of the English language since this is not normally how one would state the sentence in a standard, modern dialect (Robin, Evans-Romaine, and Shatalina, 2014). Although the syntactic constructs of the Russian language are a lot more flexible than in the English language, the syntactic typology or overall sentence structure, of Russian is classified as SVO because the syntax will usually only shift in terms of stylistic purposes with certain objects. As said previously, the use of negation is quite different between the English and Russian languages; for example, in a typical English sentence, there would only be a single negation used to change the meaning of a sentence such as changing the sentence: I am reading to I am not reading. However, as stated, Russian negation is a bit more systematic, using two or more units to negate a sentence, such as changing kto chitaet to nikto ne chitaet. From observing the complex ways that Russian syntax can shift with the use of the case system as well as observing the ways in which negation is heavily patterned and structured, it appears that the Russian language has a greater variety of expression in syntax due to the complex ways in which it is modified and used. Phonetics Phonetics is the study of sounds in linguistics. In this section, I will briefly 13

Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics show all the letters, such as vowels, consonants, and other letters of Russian and describe each sound (Table 1, Figure 2). As is to be expected, some of the sounds that occur in English and Russian are distinctly different. While there are quite a few similarities of sounds between the two languages, there are also many sounds in Russian which do not occur in English. For example, at the start of many words, the phonetic sound [ts] can occur naturally in many Russian words. However, having this sound occur at the head of an English word would sound odd to many native speakers. Overall, English and Russian, in terms of phonetic processes, tend to have a couple of differences. Table 1: IPA Chart

One of the main differences between the two languages is simply the alphabet itself. Russian, using the Cyrillic alphabet found in many Slavic and Balkan languages, has 10 vowels, 21 consonants, and 2 letters that make no sound, called a hard and a soft sign (Figure 2) (Robin, EvansRomaine, & Shatalina, 2012). However,

this all differs from the English alphabet, which has only 5 vowels, which are A [e], E [i], I [aI], O [o], U [ ju]. However, both English and Russian do share the same number of consonants. In the Russian language, the vowels are called A [æ], O [o], oo [u], e [ɛ], ei [œ], ya, [ja], yo [jo], u [ju], ye [jɛ], and ii [i]. The vowel sound [æ] is produced in the front of the mouth, but with the tongue height in the lowest position. The vowel [o] in Russian is produced in the back of the mouth, with the tongue height at about close-mid way in terms of height. Vowel [u], a rounded vowel, is sounded from the back of the mouth, and only when the tongue is positioned high in the mouth. Vowel [ɛ] like vowel [æ], is also produced at the front of the mouth, but is produced when the tongue is positioned at mid-height. Vowel [i] is also a vowel that is produced in the front of the mouth and must also have the tongue height positioned at the highest point in the mouth. Some of the other vowels of the Russian alphabet are diphthongs, meaning that at least two characters are used in the brackets to represent the sound or sounds that each vowel in the language makes. For example, the vowel ya is shown in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) characters as [ja], as the sounds presented in this vowel stretch from one space to another. A few of the other vowels in the Russian language that are represented by diphthongs are yo,[jo], u [ju], and, ye [jɛ] (Fromkin, Rodman, and Hyams, 2014).

Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics Figure 2: Vowels

(Lyovin 1997) In addition to the vowel sounds stated previously, there are 21 consonants of the Russian alphabet (Robin, Evans-Romaine, & Shatalina, 2012). They are listed, in no particular order, as sh [ʃ], shch [sʃ], b [b], v [v], g [g], l [l], n [n], p [p], r [r], z [ʒ], f [f], k [k], ikratka [i], ch [tʃ], m [m], c [s], d [d], h [h], ts [ts], t [t], and zh [dʒ]. The consonant [b], like in English, is a voiced bilabial stop. [p] is also a bilabial stop, but is voiceless instead of voiced. Other stops that we find in Russian are [k], which is a velar voiceless stop, and [g], which is a velar voiced stop. The voiced nasal sounds that occur in Russian are [m] and [n]. However, unlike English, it does not have the [ŋ] nasal stop. In the fricative section of consonants, Russian possesses the labiodental sounds for both voiced and voiceless, which are called [f] and [v]. Additionally, the language has the alveolar voiceless sound [s], as well as the palatal voiced [ʒ], palatal voiceless [ʃ], and the voiceless glottal [h]. Finally, the Russian language also has the alveolar central

liquid [r], as well as the lateral alveolar, [l]. Although the Russian and English languages share quite a variety of consonant sounds, there are a few consonants that do not occur in the English language. These are the consonants [z], [ts], and [tʃ]. The consonant [ts] is an alveolar affricate, and [z] is a post-alveolar fricative, and [tʃ] is a post-alveolar affricate. Overall, many of the same consonants that occur in English also happen to occur in Russian as well, although there are a few differences, such as the consonants listed above (Fromkin, Rodman, and Hyams, 2014). Lastly, the one thing that differs the most between the English and Russian languages is the fact that Russian has two letters in its alphabet that do not make a distinct sound. They are called a hard and soft sign, and are used in words throughout the language to either soften or harden the stress of the previous letter. For example, in the word glostnost’, the soft sign (indicated by the comma at the end of the word) would make the T at the end of the word sound softer in pronunciation than it would without the help of the soft sign. This is the same case when using the hard sign in Russian as well. While both English and Russian have quite a few similarities in terms of pronunciations and phonetics there are some distinct differences between the languages, such as their differences in the number of letters that each alphabet

Morphology, Syntax, and Phonetics possesses, as well as the fact that, in terms of the vowel sounds, there appear to be a greater number of diphthongs in Russian than in English. Conclusion By observing the distinct differences and similarities between the Russian and English language from a morphologic, syntactic, and even phonetic perspective, one can see that, although there is a great amount of similarities between these languages, they also have their own amount of specifications as well. For example, although English and Russian may both be fusional languages, and possess the SVO syntactic structure, the ways in which these two languages

sometimes form can be different from each other, due to Russian’s flexibility in syntactic structures. Additionally, we have learned that Russian and English sounds are a lot alike; however, the Russian alphabet seems to add a greater variety of sounds than English, as many of its vowels and consonants have more diphthongs than English does. From making this comparison between the two languages, it appears that Russian, with a greater and denser morphologic inflection system, a more flexible syntactic pattern, and a wider variety of sounds, could be classified as a more diverse and flexible language overall, especially when compared to the English language.

References Dressler, Wolfgang U., Natalia Garagina, Lina Pestal and Markus Pochtrager. “On the Typology of Inflection Class Systems.” Folia Linguistica 40, no. 1–2 (2006): 51–74. http://search.proquest.com.jproxy.lib.ecu.edu/docview/85636332?accountid=10639 Fromkin, Victoria, Robert Rodman, and Nina Hymans. An Introduction of Languages. Boston, MA: Cengage, 2014. Kortlandt, Frederik, and Фредерик Кортландт. “Russian Syntax and Semantics (Русский синтаксис и семантика).” Russian Linguistics 32, no. 2 (2008): 115–23. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40297135. Lyovin, Anatole V. An Introduction to the Languages of the World. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. Robin, Richard M., Karen Evans-Romaine, and Galina Shatalina. Golosa: A Basic Course in Russian, Book One. Boston: Pearson, 2012. Robin, Richard M., Karen Evans-Romaine, and Galina Shatalina. Golosa: A Basic Course in Russian, Book Two. Boston: Pearson, 2014.

THE EFFECTS OF RACE ON POLITICAL PARTY AFFILIATION: A STATISTICAL ANALYSIS Caroline Parrish Caroline is a Political Science major, Criminal Justice minor from Smithfield, North Carolina. She is a member of the Sigma Alpha Lambda Honor Society and The National Society of Leadership and Success. Her experience at East Carolina University also includes participation in the Political Science Society and track and field during 2014–15. Her goal is to pursue a legal degree in Elder Law beginning in the fall. Abstract: This study investigates the relationship between race and political party affiliation. More specifically that African American voters tend to more closely identify with the Democratic Party than other minority, which include Asian American, Latino and Hispanic. Using data from the 2012 American National Election Studies survey (NES), a cross-tabulation analysis and linear regression were performed. The findings show that there is a statistically significant relationship between race and political party affiliation. Furthermore, the study shows that African Americans are most likely to identify with the Democratic Party.

Introduction Political Science research and experimentation examine many factors that influence voter behavior. These factors include socio-economic status, gender, race, religion, employment, party affiliation, and political ideology. One area of study that is of significance when examining voter behavior is the impact that race has on determining an individual’s party preference. Over the past several decades, many attempts have been made in attaining voter equality regarding race within the United States. Racial minorities are no longer the victims of voter prejudice with literacy tests and poll taxes. Consequently, the rate of voter

participation according to race in the South is beginning to reflect the rates of those in North (Shaw 1997). As the nation’s minority population grows, voting tendencies of racial minorities directly impact campaign platforms and government policy. This may also be reflected through the creation of voting districts that are more representative of racially diverse populations (Fraga 2015). Therefore, it is relevant that we examine the effects of race on political party preference. This research paper will closely examine the influence of race on voting behavior in regard to party identification and try to answer, how does race affect party affiliation?

The Effects of Race on Political Party Literature Review Many studies have examined the influence of race on political party preference. In this paper, the area of analysis is the effect of race on party affiliation. In a study conducted by Abramowitz (1994), the effects of racial attitudes on party identification among whites from the years of 1980 to 1988 are investigated. To test the theory of racial issue evolution, Abramowitz (1994) performs an analysis of the relationship between party affiliation and racial attitudes. In a second study by Dutwin, et al. (2005), the relationship between political party preference and Latino cultural identifiers including the retention of traditional Latino values and the acculturation of Latinos into American culture and language are analyzed. In a similar study conducted by Knoke and Hout (1974), an examination of the relationship between party affiliation and race, region, religion, stratification position, and political socialization was completed on American adults between 1952 and 1972. In a final analysis, Kuo, et al. (2014) examined the tendency for Asian Americans to gravitate towards the Democratic Party. The research was designed to test two theories: one being social exclusion, the perception of being viewed as less American; and the other being intergroup commonality, the belief that Asian Americans have shared interests with other minority groups.

Several studies have examined the effects of a candidate’s race and ethnicity on political party preference. Weaver (2005) analyzes the influence of race and skin color on candidate preferences. Weaver’s intent is multifaceted with questions that include: Do White voters prefer candidates who share their racial identity? Does candidate skin color effect candidate preference? Are racial stereotypes used to choose candidates? Finally, do candidate’s race and skin color influence voter perception (Weaver 2005)? A similar study conducted by Ebonya Washington (2006) examined the degree to which African American candidates affect voter participation and a third study executed by Citrin, et al. (1990) investigates the effect of race on electoral outcomes when one candidate is African American. Researcher Monica McDermott (1998) extends this concept by examining how race and gender stereotypes function as policy preference and competency cues. McDermott questions whether voters use race and gender to determine what issues are most important to a candidate or how competent a candidate will be once in office (McDermott 1998). A study conducted by Claudine Gay (2002) focuses on how minority Congress members are viewed by their constituents. Gay attempts to understand how minority leaders identify with their constituents and how ethnicity affects a constituent’s perception of his/her Congressman (Gay 2005). Another pair of researchers,

The Effects of Race on Political Party Matsubayashi and Ueda (2011), study the effects of candidate race in biracial elections. A study conducted in 1969 by Lorinskas et al. (1969) examined the impact of candidate ethnicity in relation to voter behavior when political party labels are absent. Five out of twelve studies were crosssectional designs that used surveys to collect data. Cross-sectional designs provide a greater degree of external validity in a natural setting. Kuo, et al. (2014) used a mixed-methods approach which combined a large-scale representative survey and a laboratory experiment with a survey experiment to test the effects of social exclusion and intergroup commonality on the party affiliation of Asian Americans. The use of the laboratory experiment and survey experiment in conjunction with the representative survey helps the research demonstrate a true cause and effect relationship. A second study conducted by Knoke and Hout (1974) uses six surveys to collect data over a twenty-year period to examine the effects of social variables on party preference. The strength of using a cross-sectional design over time is that it permits the investigation of relationships, changes in strength of relationships, and causality. Another study completed by Dutwin, et al. (2005) employed a national survey designed to test the party preference of Latinos from six ethnic groups on multiple

variables. The use of multiple variables helps to pinpoint which variables are antecedent and which are intervening. Pew Research (2015) conducted a similar study in the form of a survey through which the researcher interviewed respondents. This study focused on party affiliation in relation to racial, ethnic, educational and income subgroups (Pew Research 2015). Another study conducted by Matsubayshi and Ueda (2011) used a cross-sectional analysis to determine if candidate race acts as a voting cue for White voters in biracial elections. Abramowitz (1994) performed a case study that tested the theory of racial issue evolution using four distinct issue domains: racial, social welfare, national security, and life style. The purpose of this study was to determine the party affiliation of White constituents. Similarly, Citrin, et al. (1990) used the case study method on the 1982 California gubernatorial election between Tom Bradley and George Deukmejian. The goal was to determine the impact of candidate ethnicity on political party preference. Field experiments were also employed in several studies to determine if the race of a candidate affects party identification. McDermott (1998) used an experimental method within a survey to test the effect of specific variables of race and gender. This method allowed for more confident conclusions about each variableâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s effect. Lorinskas, et al. (1969) used a controlled

The Effects of Race on Political Party election technique in which a genuine office and set of candidates as well as a fictitious office and set of candidates were voted on. Party labels were assigned on two-thirds of the ballots and omitted on one-third of the ballots. A study conducted by Weaver (2005) used a post-test experimental design to determine how voters were influenced by the race and skin color of a candidate. Using a pool of over 2000 White adults, Weaver (2005) exposed the respondents to specific stimuli and polled each respondent. Both Washington (2006) and Gay (2002) employed longitudinal designs. Washington (2006) made use of state and district observational panels from the general election years 1982 to 2000 to determine the impact of candidate ethnicity. Likewise, Gay (2002) uses a longitudinal study in a form of a trend analysis from 1980 to 1998 to examine how White and African American constituents differ in the value placed on candidate ethnicity and party identification. In two out of the five studies, data showed that minorities were more likely to identify with the Democratic Party. The Pew Research (2015) study showed that African Ameican, Asian Americans and Hispanics predominantly identified as Democrats, and Whites predominantly identified as Republicans. Proportionately, Democrats outnumbered Republicans 80%–11% among African Americans,

65%–28% among Asian Americans and 56%–26% among Hispanics (Pew Research 2015). In the Kuo, et al. (2014) study, data indicated that Asian Americans were more likely to identify with the Democratic Party as a result of feelings of social exclusion as well as intergroup commonality with other minority groups who identify as Democrats. Conversely, the study conducted by Dutwin, et al. (2005) revealed that Latinos who maintain traditional family values and ideals, self-identify along ethnic lines, and trust politicians and view them as concerned with Latino issues, were actually more prone to identify as Republicans. Knoke and Hout (1974) found that variables such as race, region, religion, stratification position and political socialization had a causal effect on party affiliation. The Abramowitz (1994) study found that amongst younger and older Whites, racial attitudes exerted very little influence on party affiliation. Party affiliation for Whites during the 1980s was more directly correlated to two key variables: the welfare state and national security (Abramowitz 1994). In regard to the influence of a candidate’s race, all studies indicate that race has a notable impact on party identification. According to Citrin, et al. (1990), a candidate’s race, in conjunction with the candidate’s record and campaign style,

The Effects of Race on Political Party impacts party preference. In the McDermott (1998) study, both political and social stereotypes affect how voters view and elect African American candidates. The belief that African American candidates are more liberal has a significantly negative impact. While liberals are more likely to vote for an African American candidate, conservatives are more likely to vote for a candidate whose race is not specified. Consequently, race acts as an informational cue in low information elections (McDermott 1998). In the Weaver (2005) study, race is also a factor. Results showed that when African American candidates run for office against each other, candidates with lighter skin tones are favored over candidates with darker skin tones; skin color, not race alone, affects voter reactions to candidates (Weaver 2005). Gay (2002) concluded that White and Black voters are more likely to contact and give a favorable assessment of legislators with whom they can racially identify. Specifically related to political party preference, Lorinskas et al. (1969) found that when party labels are absent, voting based on ethnicity increases. Ethnicity also impacts voting behavior when party labels are present. Due to the degree of acculturation and assimilation, more rural precincts are likely to vote according to party affiliation, while urban precincts place greater importance on ethnicity (Lorinskas, et al. 1969). Another

study by Matsubayashi and Ueda (2011) concluded that the socioeconomic status of predominantly White precincts appears to impact voter preference of African American candidates. High socioeconomic precincts who possess a greater degree of political knowledge and candidate information tend not to vote for the Democratic Party when the candidate is African American. Candidate race does not exhibit a significant impact on White precincts with low socioeconomic status. The data indicated that with more information, White voters are less likely to vote for an African American candidate. As a result, the researchers conclude that race generally acts as a negative voting cue (Matsubayashi and Ueda 2011). Lastly, Washington (2006) concludes that when an African American Democratic candidate is running for office, voter turnout increases for both African American and Whites. However, when an African American Republican candidate is on the ballot, no increase of voter turnout occurs for either African American or Whites (Washington 2006). Hypotheses and Possible Explanations The hypothesis proposed in this study examines voter race regarding political party preference. Within this study, party identification refers to the political party with whom an individual most closely identifies. The following hypothesis will investigate how African American voters tend to identify more closely with the

The Effects of Race on Political Party Democratic Party and several possible explanations as to why African Americans are more likely to identify as Democrats.

voter to gravitate towards a specific political party. Data, Variables, and Measurement

According to Green, et al. (2002), a majority of African Americans have identified as Democrats since the early 1960s. This preference towards the Democratic Party occurs not just among African Americans, but also among Hispanics and Latinos as well as other minorities. This is most likely due to political propaganda promoted by the Democratic Party that is more closely aligned with the working class. Additionally, minorities have historically tended to be less educated and have a lower socio-economic status. As a result, minorities have had to rely heavily on government funding of social programs. As the ideology of the Democratic Party is to promote social reform and equality for the middle class and poor, it is easy to understand why ideology, education and socio-economic status are likely contributing to this phenomenon. Humans naturally segregate themselves according to race and gender. Therefore, the inclination of a voter to identify with a political party whose candidate is of the same race and ethnicity is not surprising. Voters may also connect with candidates of the same race on an ideological level. The idea being that a candidate whose race mirrors that of his constituents is more likely to promote important issues which affect that race. Consequently, this leads a

This paper analyzes data collected from the American National Election Studies Survey, which examined the voting behavior and public opinions of US citizens regarding the 2012 presidential election. The 2012 National Election Survey polled respondents aged eighteen and older through face to face interviews and internet surveys. This dual-mode survey utilized two independent samples. The survey sampled a total of 5,914 respondents. 2,054 individuals participated in the face to face portion of the study. Participants were selected using an address-based stratified, multi-stage cluster sample from 125 census tracts. African American and Hispanic respondents were oversampled to ensure a viable analysis of those subgroups. The internet survey portion of the study consisted of a sample of 3,860 respondents. This group of respondents was generated through a simple random sample of panel members of the GfK Knowledge Network. The GfK Knowledge panel consists of a large body of survey participants who complete surveys several times each month on various topics of interest. In this paper, the hypothesis states that African American voters tend to be more

The Effects of Race on Political Party likely to identify as Democrats than other races. The dependent variable in this analysis is pid_x, which measures political party affiliation on a seven-point scale, ranging from one, equaling strong Democrat, to seven, equaling strong Republican. The independent variable in this analysis is voter ethnicity, which was recoded into a dichotomous variable labeled Black_dum, in which 0 equals individuals identifying as non-Black and 1 equals those identifying as African American. The control variables in this analysis include education, income, and gender. Education is an ordinal-level variable that measures the highest year of education an individual has completed. These categories range from the lowest of 1, equaling less than a high school diploma, to the highest of 5, equaling a graduate degree. Income is an intervallevel variable that measures annual family income. Gender is a dichotomous variable where 0 equals male and 1 equals female. To begin the analysis, a crosstab is developed to first test the effect of race on party affiliation, without controlling for any other variables. After running the cross-tabulation, a multivariate regression analysis is performed. The linear regression analysis contains the dependent variable, pid_x. The independent variables include race, income, education, and gender. The linear regression analysis tests the effect of race on party affiliation, while controlling for education, income, and gender. The descriptive statistics for each

of the variables in the analysis are included in Table 1. Results The first analysis is a bivariate analysis, in which a cross-tabulation is developed in order to test the effect of race on party affiliation. The cross-tabulation reveals that when examining the percentages of African American and non-African American falling into codes of 1, 2, or 3, on the party ID scale, the percentages of African American are higher than nonAfrican American. The most significant difference occurs between Blacks and nonAfrican American who identify as strong Democrats. According to the results in Table 2, 14.9% of non-African Americans in the sample identified as strong Democrats, compared to 54.6% of Blacks (see Table 2). When not controlling for other variables, the chi-squared test reveals that there is a statistically significant difference between race and party ID. These results show that the null hypothesis, which states that there is no relationship between race and party ID can be rejected. The Cramerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s V value of .362, reveals that there is a weak relationship between the two variables (see Table 2). Figure 1 is a visual representation of where African Americans and non-African Americans fall within the Democratic Party. As both variables were categorical, a bar chart was chosen to demonstrate the

The Effects of Race on Political Party results of this relationship. The graph depicts the percentage of African Americans vs. non-African Americans who fall under a code of 1, 2, or 3 on the party ID scale. When looking at all the individuals who identified as either strong Democrat, weak Democrat, or Independent who lean Democrat, there is an even larger difference between African Americans and non-African Americans (see Figure 1).

family income, there is a .020 unit increase on the party ID scale. These findings indicate that the higher a personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s income, the more likely that person is to identify with the Republican Party. Lastly, when looking at the effect of gender on party ID, the data reveal that compared to males, females score .213 units lower on the party ID scale, further indicating that females tend to identify more frequently with the Democratic Party than males (see Table 3).

After controlling for education, income, and gender, the analysis reveals that the relationship between race and party affiliation is statistically significant. Furthermore, the data show that compared to non-Blacks, Blacks score 2.086 units lower on the party ID scale, which indicates that they are more likely to identify with the Democratic Party. The effects of education on party ID are statistically insignificant. Income, however, is significant and indicates that for every one-unit increase in annual

Overall race, education, gender, and income do a menial job at explaining party ID. This is shown by the adjusted R2 value of (.118), indicating that race, education, income, and gender explain 11.8% of party ID. The constant also indicates that when all values of race, education, income, and gender are 0, party IDâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s value is 3.893. Of all the variables examined, race does the most work in explaining party ID. This is shown by the standardized coefficient value (beta), of [.319] = .319 (see Table 3).

Table 1. Descriptive Statistics. Variable

Mean

Race (Black_dum) Education (dem_edugroup) Gender (Gender_dum) Income (incgroup_prepost) Party Affiliation (pid_x)

5884 5864

Median

Mode

Minimum

Maximum

.12 2.89

Std. Deviation .324 1.144

.00 3.00

0 3

0 1

1 5

5916 5701

.52 14.19

.500 8.020

1.00 15.00

1 1

0 1

1 28

5896

3.80

2.095

4.00

The Effects of Race on Political Party

Figure 1: Percentage of Black vs. non-Black Democrats.

Table 2. Party ID * Black Dummy Crosstabulation.

Party ID

StrDem WkDem IndepDem Indep IndepRep WkRep StrRep

Total Pearson Chi-Square Carmerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s V

Count % within Black Dummy Count % within Black Dummy Count % within Black Dummy Count % within Black Dummy Count % within Black Dummy Count % within Black Dummy Count % within Black Dummy Count % within Black Dummy 767.083*** 0.362***

Black Dummy Non-Black 772 14.9% 749 14.5% 600 11.6% 765 14.8% 703 13.6% 717 13.9% 862 16.7% 5168 100.0%

Black 382 54.6% 137 19.6% 89 12.7% 58 8.3% 16 2.3% 11 1.6% 6 0.9% 699 100.0%

Total 1154 19.7% 886 15.1% 689 11.7% 823 14.0% 719 12.3% 728 12.4% 868 14.8% 5867 100.0%

*p<.05. **p<.01. ***p<.001.

The Effects of Race on Political Party Table 3. Results of Linear Regression: Dependent Variable Party Affiliation (pid_x). Independent Variables Race (Black_dum) Education Income Gender Constant Adjusted R2 *p <.05. **p <.01. ***p <.001.

B -2.086*** (.083) -.007 (.025) .020*** (.004) -.213*** (.053) 3.893 (.083) .118

Beta -.319*** -.004 .078*** -.051***

Conclusion As a result of previous studies and the results of this analysis based on race and party affiliation, African Americans will be more likely to identify as Democrats than other races. This phenomenon is likely due to the fact that since the early 1960s a majority of African Americans, have identified as Democrats. Much of the data suggests that African Americans tend to identify with the Democratic Party as Democrats promote equal rights and social reform. The data also suggest that income and gender are contributing factors in determining the party affiliation of African American voters.

The findings of this analysis support the hypothesis that African Americans tend to identify with the Democratic Party. While this research validates the relationship between race and party affiliation for African Americans, further investigation is necessary. To better understand this relationship, empirical research should focus on testing other minorities such as Hispanics, Asians, and Latinos as well as controlling for additional variables such as age, religion and political ideology.

References “A Deep Dive into Party Affiliation: Sharp Differences by Race, Gender, Generation, Education.” 2015. Pew Research Center. www.people.press.org/2015/04/07/a-deepdive-into-party-affiliation/ November 16, 2016. Abramowitz, Alan I. 1994. “Issue Evolution Reconsidered: Racial Attitudes and Partisanship in the U.S. Electorate.” American Journal of Political Science 38:1–24.

The Effects of Race on Political Party American National Election Studies. University of Michigan and Stanford University. 2014. User’s Guide and Codebook for the ANES 2012 Time Series Study. www.electionstudies.org October 15, 2016. Citrin, Jack, and Donald Philip Green, and David O. Sears. 1990. “White Reactions to Black Candidates: When Does Race Matter?” The Public Opinion Quarterly 54:74–96. Dutwin, David, and Mollyann Brodie, and Melissa Herrmann, and Rebecca Levin. 2005. “Latinos and Political Party Affiliation.” Hispanic Journal of Behavioral Sciences 27:135–160. Fraga, Bernard L. 2016. “Candidates or Districts? Reevaluating the Role of Race in Voter Turnout.” American Journal of Political Science 60:97–122. Gay, Claudine. 2002. “Spirals of Trust? The Effect of Descriptive Representation on the Relationship Between Citizens and Their Government.” American Journal of Political Science 46:717–733. Green, Donald, and Bradley Palmquist, and Eric Schickler. 2002. Partisan Hearts and Minds: Political Parties and the Social Identities of Voters. New Haven: Yale University Press. Knoke, David, and Michael Hout. 1974. “Social and Demographic Factors in AmericanPolitical Party Affiliations: 1952–72.” American Sociological Review 39:700–713. Kuo, Alexander, and Neil A. Malhorta, and Cecilia Hyunjung Mo. 2014. “Why Do Asian Americans Identify as Democrats? Testing Theories of Social Exclusion andIntergroup Commonality.” Vanderbilt University 1–34. Lorinskas, Robert A., and Brett W. Hawkins, and Stephen D. Edwards. 1969. “The Persistence of Ethnic Voting in Urban and Rural Areas: Results from the Controlled Election Method.” Social Science Quarterly 49:891–899. Matsubayashi, Tetsuya, and Michiko Ueda. 2011. “Political Knowledge and the Use of Candidate Race as a Voting Cue.” American Politics Research 39:380–413. McDermott, Monika L. 1998. “Race and Gender Cues in Low-Information Elections.” Political Research Quarterly 51:895–918. Shaw, Daron R. 1997. “Estimating Racially Polarized Voting: A View From the States.” Political Research Quarterly 50:49–74. Washington, Ebonya. 2006. “How Black Candidates Affect Voter Turnout.” The Quarterly Journal of Economics 121:973–998. Weaver, Vesla M. “Race, Skin Color, and Candidate Preference.” Presented at the Annual Meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Chicago, IL, April 6–10, 2005.

RASHOMON: COMING INTO THE LIGHT Kristen Williams Kristen Williams was born and raised in Jacksonville, North Carolina. She is working toward her Bachelor’s degree in English. She plans to work in the field of publishing and editing—focusing on the publication of novels. She has a great interest in film studies, and wants to one day produce a screenplay for a feature-length film. After graduation, she is moving with her fiancé, Joe, to Texas in order to pursue her dream career. Akira Kurosawa’s film Rashomon was one of his greatest masterpieces of his career. The production and release of this film came at a pivot time in Japanese history. There was a massive shift from theater cinema to television due the rise in the popularity of the home television set. Because of this shift, Kurosawa expresses a betrayal by production companies who strip directors of their creative freedoms to force films that would most likely bring in the most profits. Likewise, Kurosawa’s generation was dealing with the Post-WW2 cultural shift in Japanese society as the country was trying to reintegrate itself onto the international stage, even if it meant altering its internal and external social identities, which generally resulted in an increase of Orientalism and Occidentalism. This identity shift and the rise of the post-war generations altered what the Japanese people wanted from cinema in the theater and on the television. Furthermore, Kurosawa expressed his views of human nature through the plot narratives of this film, and, throughout the film, Kurosawa also grappled with the social issues involving gender, class, uncertainty, and conflict.

In 1950, Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa directed Rashomon. The film is a dramatic psychological mystery that questions the constructs of truth and honesty in human nature through its characters and plot. At this point in Japanese cinematic history, the film industry was beginning to evolve due to the beginning of television broadcasts throughout Japan as well as the start of the Japanese New Wave Movement. Japan was also in the midst of a post-World War II era that generated a different taste for entertainment in the general public. The

reception of Rashomon at this pivotal point in Japanese cinematic history is a reasonable explanation for the film’s initially poor ratings. For Akira Kurosawa, though, this film meant to have meaning beyond entertainment or simple themes. While Kurosawa stated that his films never held political or deeper meaning, his film Rashomon is a fine example that contradicts Kurosawa’s statement regarding his films. Rashomon is, incidentally, a vessel for several meanings, opinions, observations, and questions. Specifically, Rashomon looks at human

Rashomon: Coming into the Light nature, uncertainty, war and conflict, the rise of Orientalism and Occidentalism, Japan’s gender constructs, and Japan’s socially accepted socio-economic “norms.” These points of interest weave throughout most of the film’s cinematic elements and plot devices. One of the biggest elements that construct Rashomon is its look at human nature—specifically the capacity of human nature to tell the truth or even determine what is the concept of truth. Rashomon uses light and dark to visually illustrate this point of questioning. In the first flashback of the movie, when the woodcutter ventures into the woods and finds the samurai’s dead body, Kurosawa paints the majority of the sequence in light shining through the trees and patterns of shadows covering the setting and characters. Perhaps the most prominent shot in the entire film is within this sequence—the shot of the woodcutter looking at the dead body whose arms reach up, framing the shot of the woodcutter’s reaction to the gruesome discovery. Likewise, the same or similar lighting scheme is in the other flashbacks of the bandit, Tajômaru; the woman, Masako Kanazawa; and the dead samurai, Takehiro Kanazawa. It is equally important to note the lack of the lighting and the shadow theme in the court of the magistrate scenes. When Tajômaru, Masako Kanazawa, and Takehiro Kanazawa, via the medium, give their accounts of events, they are all cast in unfiltered light. This difference holds a

vital contrast to the rest of the film. The contrast suggests that what is said by these three witnesses is equally valid in the eyes of the court and the film’s audience. The film ends with no one character’s claims proven to be true or false. In fact, this open-endedness is vital to the narrative of the film—that life and, specifically, the truth are unclear. Leaving the truth unclear opens up the plot to a degree of personal interpretation. It leads people to question, which character was more believable or trustworthy and which claim was more plausible. This narrative technique is now known as the Rashomon effect due to this film being one of the first films to have a meta-story with so many interconnected, contradictory stories. Including the woodcutter’s story, there are four stories for audiences to choose from when trying to decide who is telling the truth. There is another option, though. None of these stories may be true. All of the characters involved had the potential to warp their recollection of events to better serve their own intentions. For example, Takehiro Kanazawa may have pinned his murder on his wife to get revenge on her for the same “humiliation” she gave him. Likewise, Masako Takehiro may have altered events within her story to escape any type of shame or punishment for actual events. Tajômaru, on the other hand, may have lied in the magistrate’s court for the sole purpose of mischief,

Rashomon: Coming into the Light which is entirely possible when considering his psychotic personality.

changed drastically and historical dramas were no longer a popular genre of film.

Kurosawa also keeps up with this theme through his use of constant movement on the screen. In each single shot, there is some degree of movement, either in the foreground or background. This fluidity tied into the concept that nothing is definite and concrete and everything is flowing and changing. This uncertainty is likely due to the current changes taking place within Japanese society.

After the war, Japan, a country whose culture holds honor to be most important, became desperate to reacclimatize themselves into the global community. After the surrender of the Japanese, the film industry in Japan took a drastic turn. In Alastair Phillips and Julian Stringer’s introduction of Howard Finn’s book Japanese Cinema: Texts and Contexts, it is stated,

So, why would Kurosawa create such a chaotic narrative to question human nature, truth, and certainty in life? The answer is in the historical context of the film. Rashomon was released only five years after Imperial Japan surrendered to the Allied powers aboard the USS Missouri at the end of the Pacific Theater of World War II. This close proximity of points in time makes for a freshly cultivated cultural change that would have affected Rashomon in the box office and critical forums. A lot of audiences would have questions regarding human nature and morality after facing the heinous actions during World War II, such as the bombing of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii and the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan. With so much death taking place so abruptly, people most likely began to ask the question, “Why?” In the case of Rashomon, though, audiences’ tastes

With the formation of the Civil Information and Education Section (CIE) on 22 September 1945, the Japanese film industry fell under new legislative structures with an emphasis placed on the representation of the virtues of democratic opinion and the rehabilitation of the positive virtues of female identity. (Phillips and Stringer 2007, 453) Kurosawa breaks with these “strictures” with Rashomon in his critic look at humanity and political and social constructs. According to Rachael Hutchinson, “Under the Occupation, jidaigeki films were banned as a glorification of the bushido ethic and the feudal system.... By making Rashomon in the stylistic form of jidai-geki in 1950, Kurosawa could be read as testing Occupation censorship” (Hutchinson 2006, 173–187). This test of Occupation censorship was directly geared towards Kurosawa’s fellow Japanese people. Again, according to Rachael Hutchinson,

Rashomon: Coming into the Light James F. Davidson’s reappraisal of Rashomon reads the film as an example of this kind of counterdiscourse, arguing that its imagery and characterisation would have caused Japanese audiences to reflect on the defeat and its aftermath in a way that American audiences would not. (Hutchinson 2006, 173–187) Additionally, Masako Kanazawa’s potential lapse in virtue is a cause for concern for the CIE and similar Allied Occupation initiatives. In fact, Rashomon was initially met with such poor reception in Japan that Kurosawa’s career was wounded severely. In 1951, however, Rashomon won the Venice Film Festival’s Golden Lion, and as Paul Anderer wrote: “This marked a turning point like no other in Kurosawa’s career. It would alter the terrain of world culture. For reasons few Japanese in the film industry at the time could explain, except to say that Westerners are saps for samurai and geisha, Rashomon had broken through a defeated nation’s barrier of shame” (Anderer, 2016). The barrier of shame Anderer speaks of is a political construct that was demolished by Kurosawa’s Golden Lion for Rashomon and Japan’s acceptance in the international film industry. Incidentally, Kurosawa and other Japanese filmmakers faced a sizable conflict in dealing with production companies: the popularity boom of television. Stephen Prince records

Kurosawa making the following statement: I feel that what’s wrong with the Japanese film industry today is that the marketing side has taken over the decision-making power on what film is going to be made. There’s no way that marketing-type people—at the level their brains are at—can understand what’s going to be a good film and what isn’t, and it’s really a mistake to give them hegemony over all this. The only way to compete with television is to make real films. Until this situation is corrected, it’s really going to be difficult for filmmakers in Japan. (Prince, 1991) With the explosion of popularity for Japanese film and the global acclaim for Kurosawa, the stage was set for the concept known as Orientalism, which is a trend revolving around stereotypical oriental representations. In this case, Orientalism specifically refers to Japanese representation such as its character archetypes like samurai, geisha and other Japanese cultural tropes. Rashomon holds onto that exotic flavor that Orientalism is fueled by due to its mysterious plot, stereotypical samurai and geisha, and ornate period clothing. According to Hutchinson, though, Kurosawa sought to find the balance between Orientalism and its counterpart Occidentalism, stating: “In his appropriation of kabuki and Noh sources, his self-reflexive use of intertextuality, and his deconstruction of the conventions of jidai-geki, Kurosawa

Rashomon: Coming into the Light demonstrates an awareness of film as a medium within which to experiment and ask questions about genre and convention. This awareness is also reflected in Kurosawa’s self-conscious use of editing techniques throughout his career” (Hutchinson 2006, 173–187). Rashomon creates this balance and desire for multicultural experimentation through various editing techniques such as the many shots; including his famous shot at the sun, angles, and distances used by Kurosawa during the woodcutter’s first sequence. The gender norms of 1950s Japan are very clear within the context of Rashomon. According [D1] to Orit Kamir, in his article “Judgment by Film: Socio-Legal Functions of Rashomon”: Throughout the film, the characters’ weapons are explicitly constructed in a metonymic manner. The very long close-up shot of the woodcutter’s ax, as he walks through the bush, the many careful, phallic shots of both the outlaw’s and the samurai’s swords, and the focus on the woman’s dagger each identify the characters with their respective knives. During intercourse with the outlaw (as presented on-screen), the woman lets go of her dagger, and her femininity is lost to her. When, in her own later narration, she tries to reclaim it, she finds that she cannot. Despite her efforts, she is unable to regain the dagger and thus her ability to use it properly (on herself). Lost to the woman, the dagger is claimed by

the samurai (in his own, later account). Taking on the woman’s weapon and her social role, the samurai uses the dagger on himself. But, contaminated by the woman’s guilt, the dagger can only cause wrongful death and humiliation (the samurai’s shameful feminization). The samurai’s act of honor and despair hardly redeems the dagger or the tainted femininity it represents. In stealing the dagger, coming into contact with contaminated femininity, the woodcutter, too, is stained. (Kamir 2000, 39) This analysis of props and their relationship to their respective characters makes a clear narrative regarding the purpose and quality of the character within the context of the film and the history surrounding the film. Masako Kanazawa; the only woman in the film who is vital to the film’s plot, portrays a cunning and flirtatious wife during the male characters’ flashbacks. Her beauty is also highlighted above all other qualities regarding her character; giving the audience the sense that her character is a majorly visual element within the plot. Masako Kanazawa portrays a vulnerable and weak woman who is defenseless when her husband was not there to protect her; which was not an unusual view of women in Japan or any other country in the 1950s. After her husband verbally rebukes her for being raped, Tajômaru says: “Hush... that’s unmanly! Women can’t help crying.

Rashomon: Coming into the Light They’re weak” (Rashomon). Additionally, Another norm portrayed in Kurosawa’s she is sexualized by Tajômaru and even film is that of the socio-economic politics raped by Tajômaru according to individual of 1950’s Japan. The wealthy; the samurai accounts. She is then shamed and shunned and his wife, and the poor; Tajômaru, the by her husband who refuses to accept her woodcutter, and the commoners, are, like after shaming him by refusing to fight for the two genders in the film, two sides in a her saying to her and Tajômaru: “Stop! conflict of truths. The film asks the Stop! I refuse to risk my life for such a audience: “Who is more likely to be telling woman! [To the woman] You are a the truth—the rich or the poor?” The faults shameless whore! Why don’t you kill of the poor characters are thrown into the yourself? [To Tajômaru] If you want spotlight of the narrative much more often her—I’ll give her to you! I regret the loss than the mistakes of the wealthy of my horse more than the loss of her” characters. For example, the characters (Rashomon). Also, during the court repeat the fact that Tajômaru is a psychotic scenes, her character is bandit with no morals. The deliberately and woodcutter’s deceit over his “Rashomon disproportionately more knowledge of the samurai’s perhaps one of the emotionally unstable and death is condemned more most important dramatic than the male fervently by the priest. The films in Japan’s characters. The narrative goes commoner who listens to the 1950s film further by making Tajômaru recollections of the woodcutter industry” and Takehiro Kanazawa and priest steals the medallion appear weak and pathetic and tapestry fabric from the when in the woodcutter’s story abandoned infant. The of events the woman is portrayed as repeated follies of the poor paint a having manipulated and embarrassed the generalizing narrative that the poor are not men with her laughter at their weakness to be trusted as much as the wealthy. The for her beauty. The decision to make the only redemption from this generalization men weak after this proposed revelation is is the woodcutter’s offer to take the a suggestion that men who are led, abandoned child in as his own, but even knowingly or not, by women are weak and then, he tells the initially suspicious priest: pathetic. Her weakness, sexualized “Oh, you can’t afford not to be suspicious treatment, rape shaming, and potentially these days” (Rashomon). Meanwhile, the devious cunning mold her character into wealthy characters only show their faults the standardized gender norm that the in flashbacks; all of which are not Japan of the 1950s accepted in most cases determined even to be truthful. and social levels.

Rashomon: Coming into the Light Akira Kurosawa uses his film Rashomon to look into some of the more pressing questions and issues surrounding Japanese culture and the Japanese film industry in the 1950s; human nature, uncertainty, post-war problems and conflicts of various kinds, the popularity boom of the television, gender constructs, and socioeconomic norms. Through the use of characters, dialogue, props, setting, and

lighting; or the lack of lighting, Kurosawa creates a narrative filled with political and social narratives and opinions that he, ironically, did not consciously see within Rashomon or any of his post-war films. The incorporation of these concepts made Rashomon perhaps one of the most important films in Japan’s 1950s film industry as it continues to be in Japan and around the world.

References Anderer, Paul. Kurosawa’s Rashomon: A Vanished City, a Lost Brother, and the Voice inside His Iconic Films. Pegasus Books, 2017. Hutchinson, Rachael. Orientalism or Occidentalism? Dynamics of Appropriation in Akira Kurosawa. Dennison, Stephanie and Song Hwee Lim. Remapping World Cinema: Identity, Culture and Politics in Film. London: Wallflower Press, 2006. 173-87. Kamir, Orit. Judgment by Film: Socio-Legal Functions of Rashomon. Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities. 12,000th ed. Vol. 12. N.d. Phillips, Alastair and Julian Stronger. Introduction: An Outline of Japanese Film History. London: Japanese Cinema: Texts and Contexts, 2007. Prince, Stephen and Akira Kurosawa. The Warrior’s Camera: The Cinema of Akira Kurosawa. Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univ. Press, 2009. Rashomon. Directed by Akira Kurosawa. Produced by Jingo Minoura. Performed by Toshiro Mifune, Machiko Kyo, Masayuki Mori, and Takashi Shimura. Japan: s.n. 1952.

FROM THE TEMPLE OF GOD TO THE TEMPLE OF THE PROLETARIAT: ICONOGRAPHY AND THE SOVIET AESTHETIC Brian Austin Thaxton Brian Austin Thaxton is a Junior Russian Studies and Religious Studies major hoping to attend graduate school in Religious Studies after graduating in May 2019. He is a member of the Foreign Languages and Literatures Department Council of Student Ambassadors, American Academy of Religion, and the Society of Biblical Literature. Brian is also a Peer Tutor for Russian Language and Religious Studies courses at the Pirate Academic Success Center and a member of the East Carolina University Ceramics Guild. Abstract: Throughout history, religion has played an apical role within the varying paradigms of Russian society, interacting with numerous sociological spheres. One of the most notable sociological relationships within Russia is the relationship between religion and politics. The Soviet era from 1917â&#x20AC;&#x201C;1991 largely molded and defined the relationship that exists currently between the Russian Orthodox Church and the state. Although the philosophical and political doctrine of the Soviet Union and the Communist Party ascribed to the Marxist theory of religion and rejected the notion of organized religion, elements of the right theological history within the Russian Orthodox Church were manifested in the Soviet Union. The most visible element of the Russian Orthodox Church, iconography, was clearly usurped by the propaganda machine of the Soviet Union. The appropriation of thematic, visual, and symbolic characteristics of Russian iconography into the secular paradigm of political propaganda, namely through graphic posters, demonstrates the symbiotic relationship between Church and state within the context of the former Soviet Union. This paper will demonstrate that the aesthetic of the Soviet Union appropriated the visual imagery of Russian Orthodox iconography. The appropriation will be made apparent through the comparative analysis of two iconographic images and two Soviet propaganda posters.

After studying, living, and experiencing life in Russia this past summer I noticed a unique connection between religion and the visual manifestations of politics. By observing the icon-centric rituals of the Russian Orthodox Church and the ways in which the political paradigm of Russian society has presented itself both historically and contemporarily, I was able to recognize a connection between the

two. Realizing how this relationship helped to define the Russian cultural identity, I was able to analyze the bond between Church and state through the context of their aesthetic representations, which has been made discernable throughout history. Whether it has been used as a tool to unify a disorganized populace, empower an authoritarian regime, or legitimize policy,

From the Temple of God religion has been an integral tool in the political development of Russia, which has been made evident by the past century of historical events. With the arrival of Eastern Orthodox Christianity in 988 A.D. by royal decree of Prince Vladimir of Kievan Rus’ (the former official title of the proto-Russian state during the medieval period), the pagan Slavic tribes of Eastern Europe were unified under one faith (Massie 1980, 22). This strategic unification by the political regime of medieval Kievan Rus’ would go on to set the greater course of Russian history, influencing relations and policy into modernity. The former pagan Slavs of Eastern Europe, originally awed by the grandeur and piety of the Eastern Orthodox tradition, adopted, and adapted their newfound faith to fit their colorful and innate Russian spirit. Many developments were made within the first centuries after the adoption of Christianity within Kievan Rus’, including the attribution of onion-shaped domes to cathedrals and places of worship, the appropriation of pagan color motifs and symbols, and, most notably, uniquely Russian developments within iconography (Massie 1980, 25–28). These developments demonstrate the beginning of a long history of appropriating religious elements and motifs from the past into the new era. Along with the appropriation of pagan elements into the fledgling Russian Orthodox Church and the genesis of 38

relations between Church and state, the developments within iconography during this period reflect elements unique to the Russian spirit that would go on to influence Russian art and literature for the next millennium. Although the Russian Orthodox Church inherited its iconographic methodologies, genres, motifs, and themes from Byzantium, notable developments were made within Russian iconography during the early period of the Church (Lazarev 1996, 22). Arguably, the most significant progression made would be the formation of a unique subgenre of icons and unique principles regarding use of light and color. For example, the Russian iconographic theme of Umilinie is defined as an iconographic representation of the Virgin Mary with an infant Jesus Christ that conveys the affectionate and lyrical relationship between the two figures (Yazykova and Luka 2007, 21). The thematic tenderness emulated through Umilenie icons demonstrates a uniquely Russian sociological phenomenon of maternal nurturing, most likely appropriated from the theological principles of Slavic paganism and the concept of a caring and benevolent Mother Earth.

From the Temple of God Russian iconographers during the early periods of the Russian Orthodox Church also expounded upon the principles of light and color of the icons of Byzantium, which would set the standard for iconographers through the present day. For example, iconography experts and authors Irina Yazykova and Hegumen Luka examine the principles of light and color in Russian Orthodox iconography in their chapter titled, “The Principles of Icon and Iconography” found in the 2007 publication of A History of Icon Painting. The two authors discuss the unique tsvet found within Russian icons— that is, the monochromatic background used to symbolize the eternal day of the kingdom of heaven and the reflection of Christ as the “Sun of Truth” (Yazykova and Luka, 2007, 16). Although elements of symbolic lighting can be found within the icons of Byzantium, Russian iconographers were able to further develop and expound upon their craft during the period of piety and religious reflection witnessed within the medieval period of Russian history. The transformations seen within the Russian Orthodox Church in the period following the adoption of Christianity demonstrates the cultural, historical, and religious significance of iconography. Russian iconographers were not only able to adopt the traditions of Byzantium, but were able to mold them into a fundamentally Russian cultural phenomenon. This evolution of iconography helped to shape the visual

palette of Russian society by allowing iconography to be the dominant form of Russian fine art, until the eighteenth century with the emergence of secular art (Turkina 2017). The developments within iconography and the popularization of icons with the common household and noble gentry led to the empowerment of the Church as a political institution. From 988 to1703 A.D., the Russian Orthodox Church saw a period of great societal influence and power that lasted until the advent of Imperial Russia. With the coronation of Peter the Great in 1682 A.D. and the policy of Westernization that followed, the Russian Orthodox Church underwent a stateenforced pseudo-reformation. Peter the Great saw the influence held by the Russian Orthodox Church, mainly the institutional position of the Patriarch, as a threat to the power of the imperial regime. Through such reforms put in place by the imperial regime of Peter I, the influence and power of the church was minimized. An example of the minimization of church dominance can be found with the dissolution of the Patriarch as the singular church authority, in favor of the decentralized Holy Synod as the governing church body. Limiting the Church’s influence within Imperial Russia, Peter the Great ushered in an era of using the Church as a tool for totalitarian leadership, which has arguably lasted into the present day (Iswolsky 1960, 112–115).

From the Temple of God Although the status of the Russian Orthodox Church had been diminished at the beginning of the imperial period of Russian history, this period is widely accepted by church and art historians to be a turning point within Russian iconography. Iconographic expert Mikhail Krasilin argues that with the Westernization of the Russian Empire, the craft of iconography also underwent a pseudo-westernization. Krasilin argues that medieval icons from the liturgical practices of the Russian Orthodox Church were removed in favor of icons that were based within the academic secular principles of classical art, rather than the theological principles of traditional iconography (Krasilin 2007, 211â&#x20AC;&#x201C;212). The new icons of the eighteenth century, found adorning the iconostasis of urban churches within the Russian Empire, are demonstrative of several classical Western artistic principles, such as the lack of a transfixed subject, Romantic and Baroque principles of light and color, and the inspiration used in the creation of an icon being drawn from Western secular and church art. The vision of Peter the Great to Westernize the nation, including the developments within iconography during the transitional period from medieval Russia to Imperial Russia, is demonstrative of the correlative relations between the Church and state. Furthermore, the changes within iconography helped to develop a different 40

aesthetic within the paradigm of Russian art. This new aesthetic fostered an ideological approach in which art reflects the state. This artistic reflection of the state, mastered by the artists trained and commissioned by Peter the Great, glorified the state through the secular and iconographic portrayal of monarchs and theological figures. Examples of this statefocused Russian art can be found within the eighteenth century portraiture of Alexei Antropov and the famous allegorical religious works of Semyon Ivanov, such as An Eagle Sees God on High (1729). Within Russia, the Church officially split with the state after the ascension of Vladimir Lenin to the head of the state after the coup against the provisional government put in place after the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II. Lenin and the Bolshevik party largely rejected the notion of organized religion, sharing the views of Karl Marx. With the consolidation of power in the new Soviet state, the Bolsheviks were able to completely redefine the relationship between the Church and state. Through the seizure of church property, unjust punishment against clergy, and the abolition of the newly reinstated institution of the Patriarch, the Soviet regime quickly diminished the Russian Orthodox Church by the time of the death of Lenin in 1924. Religious historian Helene Iswolsky expounds upon the restrictions placed on

From the Temple of God the Russian Orthodox Church by the early Soviet regime. During this period, all church sermons were monitored and approved by the state and many Christians and members of the clergy were faced with “godless persecutions.” These persecutions included heavy taxes, the banning of church-sponsored philanthropic endeavors, and the prohibition of religious instruction to minors. Iswolsky attributes the persecution against the Russian Orthodox Church to the “godless propaganda” of the Soviets. Although the constitution of the Soviet Union guaranteed freedom of religion to its citizens, it is historically evident that Soviet regime went to great lengths to minimize the existence of religion within the hopeful socialist utopia of the Soviet Union (“The New Era” 1960, 123–136). During the rule of state atheism within the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), all production of iconography was abruptly halted by the policy of the Soviet regime. Icons within the Soviet Union were seized by the state and either placed in or sold to museums to create revenue for the state (Kostrioukova 2015). With the production of iconography deemed illegal by the Soviet state, those iconographers who did not face persecution often turned to other forms of artistic expression, such as the Polyekha community of iconographers who turned to the illustration and painting of fairytale imagery and

historical events (“Liturgy and Art” 1960, 162–163). Although the production and open veneration of iconography had been made nearly impossible by the Soviet administration, the influence of iconography did not dissipate during this period. For example, the tradition of adorning the red corner (easternmost corner of the home) with an altar and icon persisted with some slight alterations (“Liturgy and Art” 1960, 161). During the era of the Soviet Union, the red corner evolved to convey an image of an Earthly utopia through the window of propaganda posters, rather than through the eschatological heavenly paradise of the kingdom of God found conveyed through iconography. The propaganda posters that replaced the icon appropriated much of the visual aspects of iconography into the Soviet aesthetic. This phenomenon is readily observed through comparison of the characteristics and principles of both icons and propaganda, as well as through the philosophy behind each piece of art. In terms of color composition, both propaganda posters and icons share a

From the Temple of God similar palette typically dominated by varying hues of red, gold, or tan and shades of blue. Theologically, these colors hold great significance within iconography. Reds represent the blood of Christ, golds represent the light of the kingdom of heaven, and blues represent the divine presence of God (Yazykova and Luka 2007, 19). Soviet propaganda posters share nearly identical color palettes with Russian Orthodox iconography. In propaganda posters, red is almost always the dominant color used, as it is one of the most iconic symbols of the Soviet Union and the Communist Party. Figure representation and positioning within Russian icons is also replicated in Soviet propaganda. Iconographic figures are always depicted fully within the frame of the painting, representing the wholeness of the kingdom of God (Yazykova and Luka 2007, 13). The same complete figure representation can also be found within Soviet propaganda posters. Emotion and other thematic elements of iconography are expressed most notably through the characters’ facial features, particularly the eyes. Other defining characteristics of Russian Orthodox iconography are the importance of hand gestures and positioning. These gestures and positions are used to communicate meaning to the viewer, similar to the use of hands and facial characteristics in Soviet propaganda posters.

Symbolic imagery is one of the integral parts of both iconography and Soviet propaganda posters. Iconographic symbols run the gamut of Christological and theological themes and motifs. One notable example of the rich iconographic visual symbolism can be found in depictions of the Old Testament Trinity, such as the fifteenth century Trinity (1411 or 1425–27 A.D.) by the most famous Russian iconographer, Andrei Rublev (Yazykova and Luka 2007, 19). Other frequently employed iconographic images include the ethereal glow around the head of figures, symbolizing the angelic or otherworldly nature of the figure, and the use of books or other inanimate objects to represent a figure’s position as either a saint, nobleman, or biblical figure (Yazykova and Luka 2007, 23–24). One of the most significant forms of symbolism within iconography is the colors of the robes used to dress figures. For example, the adornment of Jesus Christ in red and blue robes symbolizes the human (red) and divine (blue) nature of Christ (Yazykova and Luka 2007, 16). Soviet propaganda posters are also known for their visual symbolism emulating power and strength to the masses of illiterate Soviet peoples in the early twentieth century. One of the most iconic symbols found in a Soviet propaganda poster would be the infamous hammer and sickle, the very symbol of the Soviet Union. The hammer and sickle for the people of the Soviet Union represents the

From the Temple of God struggle of the working class and the goal of creating a Socialist utopia: providing hope of a better Earth.

Philosophically, both icons and propaganda posters share similar underlying themes and purposes. Icons serve several purposes within the Russian Orthodox Church, both in modernity and antiquity. The first and most significant purpose of iconography is that the icon is used to provide a window into the kingdom of God for the viewer and proof of an afterlife for those who follow God (Yazykova and Luka 2007, 13). Icons also help to deliver a spiritual education, providing a visual representation of biblical and pseudohistorical stories and themes, which would otherwise be lost upon the illiterate masses at the beginning of the Soviet Union. While icons provided hope for a better existence in the afterlife for the thousands of underprivileged and struggling peoples at the beginning of the Soviet empire, propaganda posters provided hope through the promises of a better tomorrow in an idyllic Socialist utopia. Like icons, propaganda posters were also used as an educational tool to indoctrinate millions of Soviet peoples. Propaganda posters were

also used to call citizens of the Soviet Union to action, to preach ethics such as the anti-alcohol campaign of 1958, and to project the achievements of the USSR (Hignett 2011). In order to demonstrate the influences of church iconography upon statesponsored propaganda, two sets of images will be examined. The first icon chosen for comparison is titled The Mother of God of Tenderness (Belozersk), from the first half of the thirteenth century (Turkina 2017). This canonical icon is representative of the Russian iconographic archetype of Umilenie, and emulates the maternally tender relationship between mother and child. This icon of the Virgin exemplifies the motherly nature and hospitable attitude of the feminine Russian spirit. Thematic messages of wisdom and maternal nurturing are portrayed to the viewer from the icon The Mother of God of Tenderness (Belozersk). Wisdom is portrayed to the viewer through the unique depiction of the face of infant Christ; which conveys both a youthful innocence and an air of sagacious wisdom. Motherly hospitality and nurturing are conveyed to the viewer through the intense emotion echoing from the face of the Virgin. Emotion is portrayed in the icon through the dramatic depiction of the eyes of the Virgin, and the benevolent hand gestures between the infant Christ and the Virgin. The color palette of this icon is dominated

From the Temple of God by strong golden-tan tones with subdued reds surrounding the head of the Virgin.

An example of a propaganda poster demonstrating appropriation from the icon The Mother of God of Tenderness (Belozersk) and other icons of the same archetypal compositions is the 1948 poster titled, â&#x20AC;&#x153;We will culturally serve each and every visitor!â&#x20AC;? by G. Shubina. This poster emulates the hospitable nature of Russian culture while exhibiting an innately feminine quality. The color composition of the graphic is dominated by warm tints of golden-yellow and tan, with accents of blue. Hand gestures of the female figure, as well as the facial expression reveal the tender, nurturing, and hospitable themes of the composition. The eyes of the feminine figure further portray the nurturing and cheerful nature emulating through the image. The poster expresses the message of the ideal Soviet woman as a caring and attentive hostess. The idyllic Soviet feminine figure is both caring and skilled within the context of domestic life, but

also as the cultural representative of the Soviet Union to visitors. It is evident that both pieces share similar compositional characteristics, as well as similar expressive messages. Similar visual qualities that the two pieces share include the color palette dominated by warm shades of yellow or tan with blue accents, the representations of the female figures, and the ways in which emotion is expressed through facial features and hand gestures. Both images express a genuine and natural maternal emotion, which innately represents the feminine Russian essence. The iconographic representation achieves this level of emotional development through the principles and visual characteristics that are integral to Russian Orthodox iconography. The Soviet propaganda poster, although with a basis in completely different ideology, also conveys a similar message to the viewer through the appropriation of several of the components Russian Orthodox iconography. The second icon, titled St. George and the Dragon, is from the fifteenth century Novgorod School of iconographic painting. The color palette of the icon is dominated by rich tones of red found within the background of the piece, the robe of St. George and some of the coloring of the dragon. The color palette of the icon is also comprised of tannishbrown tones, white, and muted shades of blue. These bright reds allow the icon to

From the Temple of God demonstrate the strong and dominant nature of St. George, which most likely correlates to St. George’s position as the patron saint and protectorate of Moscow. Power and dominance are also conveyed to the viewer through the position of St. George as he strikes the final blow to the dragon and through the archetypal portrayal of St. George as a soldier-saint. The soldier-saint George demonstrates the power and might of the Russian territory, while also offering a sense of spiritual protection over the motherland. Several Soviet propaganda posters have appropriated the prevailing thematic and visual elements from St. George and the Dragon and similar iconographic representations. One notable example of a Soviet propaganda poster that demonstrates appropriation from this icon is the 1920 “Have you volunteered?” by D. Moor. Created during the civil war shortly after the Russian Revolution of 1917, the poster calls for the proletariat to enlist in the army and join forces to defend the motherland against the White Army, who were the main domestic antagonists of the Bolshevik Party, and the formation of a Soviet state (Büchten and Solovev 2012, 62). The color palette of Moor’s “Have you volunteered?” is dominated by

the vibrant red color, highlighted with shades of tan and black. This choice of red both reflects the color of the Red Army of the proletariat, but also appropriates the red theme from the icon of St. George and its connotative relation to the motherland. Similar to the representation of St. George, the dominant and powerful stance of the figure protecting the factories, which symbolizes the proletariat, demonstrates thematic elements of protection of one’s country and formidable strength. Through the comparison of visual similarities such as color palette, figure position, and symbolism, it is apparent that the graphics of Soviet propaganda posters appropriated the visual characteristics from Russian Orthodox iconography. The analysis was also demonstrative of the unique relationship between the church and the state. The Soviet regime rejected the notion of organized religion, believing it to be harmful to the proletarian psyche and fostering an apathetically passive attitude toward the inadequate quality of life of the working class. However, it is apparent that the political powers within the framework of the USSR saw the visual and thematic elements of religious iconography as a tool to be

From the Temple of God further developed to help spread the cause of the Soviet regime. With most of the population of the Russian state at the beginning of the twentieth century being illiterate, the Communist party needed to develop a method to disseminate the ideology and information across the country. Looking to the rich visual history of the Russian culture, the propagandists drew upon the visual components of Russian Orthodox iconography and the visual vocabulary that it had created among the general populous. With the recognizable aesthetic of iconography appropriated into Soviet propaganda, the political paradigm of Soviet society dominated Russian culture and diminished the role of the Russian Orthodox Church. The appropriation of iconographic characteristics into the Soviet aesthetic and the history of the Russian Orthodox Church within Russia demonstrate the unique cultural balance between religion and the political spheres of society. This cultural balance, as demonstrated by the past millennium of church and social history of the Russian state, exemplifies the unique relationship between the Church and state. Whether the church was accepted or rejected by the reigning regime, religion has always held a dynamic role within the political domain of Russian society. With the state atheism imposed by the Soviet regime, the cultural balance was denied the establishment of a cultural equilibrium. This lack of a cultural equilibrium resulted in the use of 46

iconography and its thematic and aesthetic principles as a tool within totalitarian rule of the Soviet state. The use of the Russian Orthodox Church as a tool within totalitarian and authoritarian leadership within Russia is not simply a phenomenon that can be observed within the past. Assimilation of ecclesiastical notions and images as a tool to justify and support the actions of the state is evident within the present administration of President Vladimir Putin, the Russian Orthodox Church, and within the policies of the United Russia party within the Russian Federation. It is important to recognize this unique symbiotic relationship between the Church and state within Russia to understand the present geopolitical circumstances.

To the Russian Orthodox believer, icons provide an earthly window into the unknown, unfathomable kingdom of God. For centuries, these sacred paintings have provided spiritual truth, guidance, hope, and affirmation. Possibly, it is also through this window that we will be given a better understanding of the Earthly paradigms of church and state relations within the context of the Russian State.

From the Temple of God References Büchten, Daniela and Denis Solovev, Propaganda! Russian and Norwegian Posters 1920– 1939. Norway: Nasjonalbiblioteket, 2012. Hignett, Kelly. Budem Sdorvi! Na Zdravi! Prost! The Uses and Abuses of Alcohol in the Communist Bloc, 2011. https://thevieweast.wordpress.com/tag/anti-alcoholcampaign/ Iswolsky, Helene. “From the Kremlin to Saint Petersburg” In Christ in Russia: The History, Tradition, and Life of the Russian Church, 110–122. Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Co., 1960. ______________. “Liturgy and Art” In Christ in Russia: The History, Tradition, and Life of the Russian Church, 154–171. Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Co., 1960. ______________. “The New Era” In Christ in Russia: The History, Tradition, and Life of the Russian Church, 122–139. Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Co., 1960 Kostrioukova, Anastassia. “Irina Sandormirskaja discusses cultural significance of Russian icon In Soviet Context” NYU Jordan Center for the Advanced Study of Russian, last modified March 26th, 2015. http://jordanrussiacenter.org/event-recaps/irinasandomirskaja-reveals-cultural-significance-russian-icon-soviet context/#.WWlqZsmQw0o Krasilin, Mikhail. “Russian Icons of the 18th to Early 20th Centuries” In a History of Icon Painting. Translated by Kate Cook. Moscow: Grand-Holding Publishers, 2007. Lazarev, Viktor N., “General Observations on Russian Iconography.” In The Russian Icon. Translated by Collete Joly Dees, Edited by Nancy McDarby. Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1996. Massie, Suzanne. “To Serve G-d and Uplift Humanity” In Land of the Firebird: The Beauty Turkina, Olyessa V. “Visual Arts of Saint Petersburg in the Collection of the State Russian Museum” Lecture at the Center for International Educational Exchange through Saint Petersburg State University, St. Petersburg, Russia, May 25, 2017. Yazykova, Irina and Hegumen Luka, “The Theological Principles of Icon and Iconography” In A History of Icon Painting. Translated by Kate Cook. Moscow: Grand-Holding Publishers, 2007.

THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR AND ITS EFFECT ON RELIGIOSITY IN NORTH CAROLINA Noah S. Shuler Noah S. Shuler is currently completing his Bachelor of Science degree at East Carolina University. He is a senior double majoring in History Education and History. In pursuance of his degree he is working as a Clinical Teaching Intern in the Pitt County School System. Following his graduation in May 2018, he intends to pursue a Master of Arts in History. Shuler is an active member of the award-winning Lambda Eta Chapter of the Phi Alpha Theta History Honor Society, as well as other campus organizations. Although his research interests are broad, he has focused his studies on the American Civil War, conducting original research into the social, military, and religious implications of the war in North Carolina. In the early nineteenth century, North Carolina churches had grown considerably in comparison to their size in previous centuries. New denominations and associations formed as new churches organized, allowing North Carolina’s Christians to more effectively carry out missionary efforts in the state. From its beginning in 1861, the American Civil War affected every aspect of North Carolinian society, including churchgoing. In the decades before the war, Christianity was the most prevalent religious belief system, and churches met in nearly every town in the state. However, the war measurably altered the state’s religiosity through the many hardships that it placed on congregants and congregations. Even so, the war failed to prevent the continued expansion of Christianity in the state. Significantly, the war’s resolution allowed African-American congregations, denominations, and associations to form in North Carolina, causing a massive expansion of African-American Christianity throughout the state. Although the war’s operations and hardships severely hampered North Carolinian religiosity, Christianity continued to expand across the state despite the Civil War.

The war had decided effects on North Carolinians’ practice of Christianity in a number of ways. Men and pastors left their homes and congregations to join the war effort and serve as soldiers and chaplains, creating a vacuum of religious participants and leaders. Wartime shortages of materials burdened community churches’

abilities to operate effectively. The Union invasion and occupation of eastern North Carolina destroyed church buildings and left many congregations scattered or disbanded. These factors caused many congregations to shrink in size after the war began in 1861. Through all of these effects, most North Carolina churches and

The American Civil War denominations experienced significant growth by the end of the war. The Civil War affected North Carolina churches by making record keeping considerably more difficult. As a result, many church records are horribly incomplete. For example, Trinity Episcopal Church’s membership and communicant records end in 1860 and resume in 1866.1 The vestry minutes of Christ Church at New Bern stop suddenly in May of 1860.2 At St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church in Wilson, the records during the Civil War were so incomplete that later ministers would complain about their shortcomings repeatedly.3 One Baptist church in Warrenton recorded detailed minutes of its monthly meeting until 1863 and then began recording short statements until 1866, indicating that members were holding very brief meetings.4 Oak Grove Church in Pitt County lost both its pastor and clerk to the war effort, leaving its records almost entirely neglected.5 The membership records of Hillsborough Methodist Church exist both before and after the war, but the war years’ records are missing.6 One record book from Wilkes County omits three entire years of birth and membership records.7 Marriage and funeral records cease at St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church during the war.8 Although the exact cause of such omissions is difficult to determine, the war was likely responsible since so many

churches’ records are sparse during the war years. Even among churches that kept meticulous records, great uncertainty remained, as the whereabouts of many communicants were uncertain by the end of the war due to the unrest and turmoil at the close of hostilities.9 In addition to sparse records, some manuscripts are severely damaged. One church record book is especially marred, with a missing portion that accounts for nearly an eighth of each page throughout most of the book.10 The war had many detrimental effects on the state, and perhaps some of them are responsible for the lack of consistent record keeping during the war. Many churches across North Carolina lost members to the war as congregants moved to the North, joined the Confederate military, or died while serving. As membership declined in many churches, some North Carolinians recognized this trend. Early in the war, Annie Darden observed, “I felt very sad to look around at the vacant seats of many, who had gone, perhaps never to return.”11 The Presbyterian Church alone lost over two thousand of its members to death while they were serving the Confederacy.12 A few losses were attributed to relocations. For instance, Nathaniel Harding Jr. left North Carolina to move to Connecticut, breaking fellowship with his church.13 Moon’s Chapel Baptist Church recorded the loss of one James Crutchfield, who had been at war, in the Battle of Richmond.14 Hillsborough Presbyterian Church lost its

The American Civil War pastor in 1863 when he left to serve as a chaplain in the army.15 First Baptist Church of Charlotte reduced its requirements for a meeting quorum from seven male members to five male members, but the church still could not conduct business because nearly all its men had left to join the war effort.16 In its annual minutes, the Fayetteville Presbytery reported, “the excited spirit of the times has affected all ranks and conditions of men.” The report goes on to detail the type of effects this spirit had: Pious young men have felt it to be their duty to exchange the privileges of the sanctuary for the battle-field. Congregations have been weakened, Sabbath Schools are dwindling away, and Bible classes have been given up, while in some instances, the word preached seems to have fallen powerless upon the hearts and consciences of inattentive hearers.17 The demands of war on the population caused many churches to dwindle, but the war also affected church operations through other shortages. The Civil War hampered many normal church operations in North Carolina. People across the state felt hard economic difficulties due to the war, and prices were high.18 The shortage of gas or other light sources limited the availability of evening services in some communities.19 Candles were in short supply, which contributed to the lack of evening services and prevented many people who were unable to attend

morning services from attending church.20 Until 1861, the Moravian church at Salem had held an annual week of prayer every January, but the church neglected this observance from 1861 to 1866.21 The war halted construction on St. Paul’s Church in Wilmington because of fear of the impending Union occupation of the city.22 At First Baptist Church in Charlotte, the war effort required the church bell for the purpose of manufacturing bullets for the Confederate Army.23 These interruptions demonstrate the war’s practical effects on North Carolina churchgoing. From the start of the war, North Carolina’s commanders had expected to repel Union forces on the coast. Gen. Richard Gatlin was in command of North Carolina’s defensive forces. Unfortunately, the Confederate War Department failed to send him enough troops to successfully defend eastern North Carolina. In March 1862, Gen. Burnside led a Union expedition into North Carolina, successfully capturing Roanoke Island, Washington, New Bern, Morehead City, and Beaufort.24 Union forces finally defeated Fort Fisher in January of 1865, allowing them to capture and occupy Wilmington. With Sherman’s army advancing toward Goldsboro from the south, Union forces were strangling the state of North Carolina.25 In such a condition, North Carolina churches experienced a number of negative effects brought by the occupation.

The American Civil War The Union invasion and occupation of North Carolina severely hampered church activity across the state. Hopewell Presbyterian Church records indicate that church meetings were rare during the war and that only three services occurred in the entire year of 1865 due to the Union control of the surrounding roads.26 Trinity Parish Church in Chocowinity records [some pages are missing or damaged] that the occupation prevented regular meetings of the church, stating, “from the year 1861 until…services of the Church…was very irregular…constant fear…Federal troops.”27 After the fall of New Bern in March 1862, Christ Church was no longer able to hold services since the occupying forces had commandeered the church and installed a chaplain as its minister. The rector and the majority of congregants had fled after Union forces entered the city, making continuity of services nearly impossible.28 The occupation of Wilmington led the minister at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church to resign and flee the city, leaving his congregation without a leader.29 In Shiloh, Union troops converted the local Baptist church into soldiers’ quarters for the occupying forces.30 The invasion interfered with the operations and mission of churches across the state, especially those in occupied regions of eastern North Carolina. In addition to these effects brought by the occupation, skirmishes and fighting across the state often occurred near churches, likely leaving the congregants unable or 52

unwilling to venture near the church buildings. In 1865, a skirmish near Mt. Zion Church outside of Pittsboro, North Carolina resulted in several casualties and captures on both sides, and Union troops continued to harass the immediate area, firing on civilians and soldiers alike.31 A detachment from North Carolina’s 1st Infantry engaged in a skirmish near Black Jack Church in 1864.32 Although no records are readily available from these affected churches, a disrupting effect of these skirmishes to some degree on local congregations is highly likely given the similar effects in wholly occupied regions. The war brought destruction to many North Carolina churches. The Union occupation forced First Presbyterian Church in Washington to suspend its services until fire destroyed the church during the Union evacuation. General Sherman’s forces burned Lumber Bridge Church to the ground and destroyed the library at Antioch church.33 In Wilmington, Union troops occupying St. Paul’s Lutheran Church destroyed “everything inside of the building,” leaving only the structure itself standing.34 The congregation did not complete reconstruction of the church until 1869 and did not receive a new pastor until 1870.35 Union troops set woods on fire, damaging Providence Methodist Church of Wayne County in 1865, and that congregation was not able to replace the building until 1877.36 Soldiers dismantled Chinquapin Chapel in Jones County to

The American Civil War burn its materials for firewood.37 The Catholic Church in Fayetteville fell into severe disrepair, as it had no pastor and no funds with which to maintain the building.38 These destructive effects of the war caused many congregations to dissolve or move and severely limited the effectiveness of record keeping. Many churches also failed to maintain regular Sunday services during the war. For instance, Bear Grass Primitive Baptist Church in Martin County held “infrequent” meetings throughout the war years.39 Even before the war, a shortage of pastors existed in the Presbyterian Church that left half its churches in the state without pastors for the majority of Sundays throughout the year.40 At St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Greenville, the lack of a local rector during the war sometimes prompted nearby rectors to hold visiting services at the small congregation.41 The war measurably inconvenienced church congregations in North Carolina by creating a shortage of supplies and manpower. A variety of Christian denominations and associations operated in North Carolina during the war. The Methodists, Baptists, and Presbyterians were the largest; but other groups, such as the Catholics, Moravians, Lutherans, and Episcopalians, also maintained churches across the state. As the war began, most of these denominations broke their associations with their Northern branches, leading to

independent Southern denominations. The majority of these denominational schisms were a direct result of sectional divisions over slavery.42 Just as slavery split the nation in two halves, so it divided most religious denominations into two halves, a Northern Christianity that generally opposed slavery and a Southern Christianity that generally opposed abolition. The Southern states’ religious conventions and associations generally formed distinct Confederate bodies, leaving North Carolina’s churches associated with new ecclesiological bodies. These religious groups kept both historical and statistical records of their congregations in North Carolina. The surviving records of these denominations, associations, and individual congregations shed light on the size and influence that these groups had in North Carolina. They reveal trends, effects, and the circumstances that the war brought to the state’s Christians. Using these records, an extensive analysis of the war’s effects on these groups is possible. Methodist churches in Western North Carolina had been declining in the years leading to the Civil War. Member churches of the Holston Conference of the Southern Methodist Church, which spanned Eastern Tennessee and Western North Carolina, began consolidating as ministers became too scarce to minister to all of the Asheville and Franklin districts’

The American Civil War congregations. Due to the small numbers of Methodist congregants remaining in the region, those two districts merged in 1860 to form the lone Asheville district. Between its Tennessean, North Carolinian, and Virginian churches, the Holston Conference lost 26,477 members in 1866 due to growing conflict between the Southern and Northern branches of Methodism.43 These regional disputes were a direct result of the denominational divides caused by the secession of the Southern states at the start of the war. Indeed, the rising Methodist Episcopal Church, a decidedly Unionist body, established its own Holston Conference that occupied the same geographic region in 1865. A considerable number of ministers and communicants from the previous Holston Conference joined this new body.44 The war intensified denominational divisions over doctrine and slavery, leading to a splintering of the Methodist Church in western North Carolina. With the Southern branch of the Holston Conference hemorrhaging members by the end of the war, it is unclear whether those members left to join the Methodist Episcopal Church or left the Christian religion entirely. The Catholic Church barely maintained a presence in North Carolina before the Civil War. In 1861, there were four priests ministering to approximately six hundred

Catholics in the state. Even by 1868, there were only seven hundred Catholics at most in the state, with only three church buildings. Small local bodies of Catholics existed in a number of towns. In Salisbury, the local group’s benefactor after the war was Frances Fisher, son of the namesake of Fort Fisher, Col. Charles Fisher. He and his siblings became wards of a Catholic family member following the death of his father, and he eventually became an influential Catholic because of the war.45 As the war progressed, the Catholic Church’s size remained largely static. Growth only began to increase in the years after the war ended. The war also had significant effects on the Moravians around Salem. At the 1861 anniversary of the congregation at Bethania, the attending minister recorded that his church’s attendance was miserable because many congregants stayed home due to the political unrest and talks of secession.46 When describing his activities at home to a soldier, one Moravian minister replied, “nothing; people have no time to attend to religion; they must make money.”47 Postwar, the Moravians recovered somewhat, with the Moravian congregation at Salem recording the largest congregation in Salem since the “palmiest days before the war” on Sunday, April 22, 1866.48 Although the war affected the Moravians in North Carolina, the group later recovered and continued to exist throughout the Salem area.

The American Civil War The Presbyterian Synod of North Carolina was one of the largest denominations in the state, with over fourteen thousand members across three presbyteries in 1858.49 As previously noted, the synod sorely lacked ministers in 1858. Indeed, membership was growing, with over four hundred members added to the Fayetteville Presbytery in 1858.50 However, the shortage of ministers had increased by 1860, and many congregations across the state were either vacant or closed even though the Synod still recorded their membership figures.51 Presbyterian records from the end of the war are inexplicably absent from major repositories, rendering further analysis problematic. The Episcopal Church in North Carolina experienced significant decline in the years leading to war, as well as during the Union occupation of New Bern.52 The number of communicants of the Episcopal Church in North Carolina fell from 2,839 in 1857 to 1,973 by 1861.53 The overall Episcopal attendance having declined, the Union occupation caused congregants to flee from Christ Church in New Bern. The assistant rector, a Reverend William Wetmore, remained in New Bern to serve both those members of the church who could not leave the area and those that the Union had captured. However, the occupying army captured the church and installed its own chaplain, who began holding services for troops and local citizens. When Christ Church reorganized

following the warâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s conclusion, the reported number of white communicants had fallen from 106 in 1861 to 60 in 1866, along with an addition of 15 black communicants to the church.54 In 1866, the number of Episcopal communicants statewide had risen to 2,451, but it was several years before the church would recover.55 The Civil War caused significant losses of membership across Episcopal churches in North Carolina, but the denomination eventually recovered and began to expand beyond its Antebellum size. The churches of the Tar River Baptist Association kept detailed records throughout much of the war period. Although the association had gradually grown during the years leading to the war, the records show that the conference membership fell from 2,526 in 1860 to 2,205 in 1862. However, the membership had grown to 2,430 by 1865 and grew still to 2,795 in 1866, although the association had lost several churches. By 1867, the association had surpassed 3,000 members across its twenty-five churches.56 These figures indicate that, while the Civil War hampered the associationâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s growth, its churches recovered quickly and continued to expand in the years after the war. First Baptist Church in Asheville experienced troublesome times during the war, but no records indicate that the war was to blame. In 1860, the church records show that the church had twenty-seven

The American Civil War white members and thirty-five black members. From 1860 to 1862, membership did not significantly decline, with the church losing only one white member. However, the church did not keep extensive records during the war and failed to continue recording the black membership rolls. By 1864, the total membership of the church had declined to only forty-eight members, but the record did not differentiate between races. During this period, the church had a serious conflict with its founding pastor, leaving the church without a pastor for several years. By the end of the war, the congregation had resolved the conflict, but record keeping had suffered due to the loss of leadership, so no membership records are available until the 1870s.57 Based solely on the church record book, this church seemed to be unaffected by the war, but membership certainly declined during the years of fighting, regardless of cause. The Lutheran Church in North Carolina exponentially expanded during the nineteenth century. Domestic missionaries planted new churches during every decade even though there was a marked shortage of ministers during most of the century.58 In 1850, the denomination had 2,482 members statewide, and that number had almost doubled by 1875, with 4,131 members reported in that year.59 In the intervening years, statistical data fluctuated as churches left the synod or

ceased to exist. For instance, the Lutheran Synod had 3,942 members in 1860, 4,250 members in 1862, 4,110 members in 1864, and 3,109 members in 1866. The apparent growth and decline is largely attributable to the conditions of war, as the synod recorded nearly eight hundred funerals and over one thousand infant baptisms during the war years.60 The war affected the Lutheran Church, but its temporary setbacks did not prevent the Lutherans from continuing to expand. Conversely, some North Carolina churches significantly grew during the war years. Despite fluctuating attendance, Bill’s Creek Baptist Church in Rutherford County nearly doubled its membership during the war, gaining more members in the years 1861 and 1865 than in any other year during the period, arguably the most tumultuous years of unrest.61 In 1863, a Richmond newspaper discussing the war across the South reported, “Over two thousand members have been added to the Methodist Church within the last six months in one district in North Carolina.”62 A Confederate report in 1863 states, “there were eight or ten [soldiers] who desired to connect themselves with a single Church in North Carolina,” which had reportedly experienced a large revival.63 Perhaps this apparent growth was due to wartime consolidation of congregations and resources or increased religious fervor ignited by the trials of war. Records show that at least part of this growth was attributable to troops

The American Civil War converting to Christianity or joining churches in regions in which they were active. As churches closed, some congregants likely would have found other churches to attend, but records of such transfer do not currently exist. The North Carolina Disciples of Christ kept detailed records, which it published in the minutes of annual conferences. With 1,859 members across its 30 churches in 1845, the Disciples of Christ had been growing statewide.64 In 1858, the denomination had a total of 2,462 members across its congregations.65 That total had risen to 2,911 members by 1862, well into the war.66 The association continued to grow, reporting a total of 3,111 members in 1863.67 However, a loss of members in 1864 resulted in a total membership of 3,075.68 By the end of the war, membership had stabilized at a considerably higher number than the beginning of the war, with 3,109 members in 1865.69 The denomination continued to maintain steady membership, with 3,117 members in 1866.70 While the Disciples of Christ experienced occasional setbacks in growth, it is clear that the denomination continually grew through the war years, with a gain of over six hundred members in the period between 1858 and 1866. African American slaves in the South gained their freedom at the close of the war, with the ratification of the Thirteenth

Amendment in December 1865 outlawing slavery. As these new African American citizens began to explore their new civil rights, religious independence became a central theme across black communities. In North Carolina and across the South, African Americans had primarily worshipped in segregated white congregations, although some free congregations existed.71 No longer were these men and women tied to white congregations that treated them as inferior beings. Instead, blacks could form their own churches to worship God as they pleased. To be sure, some African American congregations existed before and during the war, but the number and size of these churches increased rapidly during the post-war Reconstruction Period. The Confederate loss of the war allowed black North Carolinians to exercise this new religious freedom. Newly freed African Americans began to found churches across the state, often creating entirely new Christian congregations in North Carolina. Even before the close of the war, blacks in Goldsboro formed the First African Baptist Church in 1864.72 Immediately following the fall of Wilmington in early 1865, over fifteen hundred black Christians came to Front Street Methodist Church to hear preaching by a black chaplain of the Union Army, establishing a congregation there.73 In Hillsborough, African Americans used their newfound religious freedom to form Mount Bright 57

The American Civil War Baptist Church in 1866.74 In Chapel Hill, the Baptist Church allowed its colored members to “withdraw and organize a church for themselves” in September of 1865. This initial group consisted of sixtyone members, forming an entirely independent church.75 In Weldon, Elder Joseph Baysmore’s description of the early formation of First Colored Baptist Church in 1865 provides a helpful description of the success many churches found: I began the church with only five members and I preached as a Licensed minister, and temporary pastor until 1866, then I was ordained to the work of the ministry, November the 22d, 1866, and I received 26 members by letters of dismission from the white Baptist church, and we then sent to Petersburg for a council to organize us and the council come on the 24th of June, 1866, Rev. J. Jasper and two deacons organized us and baptized 39, and that made the membership of the church 69 in number.76 By 1879, he had baptized nearly one thousand converts and established eight more churches in the state.77 In a significant event, North Carolina’s Negro Baptists formed the first AfricanAmerican Baptist state convention in 1866, having previously associated primarily with white churches.78 The rapid expansion in North Carolina was entirely due to the Union victory in the war. The Union occupation of New Bern provided great opportunities for the 58

expansion of African-American churches. Former slaves founded St. John Missionary Baptist Church in Craven County, and in 1866, the congregation at Christ Church in New Bern supported the founding of St. Cyprian Church, another black congregation.79 The independent black congregation of St. Peter’s African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church began using the church’s building as its own after the white congregation fled the Union occupation.80 New Bern was already the location of the North Carolina Conference of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, formed there in December 1864. The New York Conference of that church had sent Bishop J. W. Hood as a missionary to New Bern in late 1863, and he arrived on January 20, 1864. A witness to the last battles in the city, he spent his time organizing churches there and in Beaufort. When he organized the conference in December, he had twelve members, including himself. Although he was successful in this region and trained up leaders to assist him, the presence of the Confederate Army prevented Hood from expanding the influence of the Zion Church southward. However, when the hampering effect of Confederate defenses evaporated at the war’s end, he was able to expand his missionary efforts, and new conferences throughout central and western North Carolina formed as a result of his work, as well as conferences in neighboring

The American Civil War states.81 In 1856, the African Methodist Episcopal Church had only twenty thousand members in the nation.82 By 1895, the Zion Church in North Carolina had 111,000 members and over 500 churches, demonstrating the exponential increase in African-American churches across the state.83 Although these congregations were successful, African Americans found a much more difficult journey within the state’s Presbyterian Church, which still had no black ministers by 1865. Only two congregations, in Charlotte and Wilmington, existed by 1866, and the two congregations combined had less than one hundred members.84 Still, the growth in membership among Presbyterian African Americans was quite significant when compared to the state of the church prior to the war. One of the chief effects of the Civil War on North Carolina religiosity was the great increase of churches and churchgoers among the state’s African American population. The war also interfered with a number of religious educational institutions, which had expanded across North Carolina during the nineteenth century. For example, Floral College, a Presbyterian institution, operated until the wartime conditions caused it to suspend operations until the end of the war. From May 1862 to 1866, the Baptist-operated Wake Forest College remained closed due to the financial and social strains of the war.

Yadkin College, of the Methodist Conference, closed in 1861 after three quarters of its attendees volunteered for service in the Confederate military, leaving too few students to operate the school effectively.85 The chairman’s 1862 report to the Chowan Baptist Association on the Chowan Female Collegiate Institute stated: This Institution, formerly so successful and prosperous, is now suffering, like most others in our country, from the blighting influences of the war. The Trustees, at the end of the last scholastic year anticipating a greatly diminished patronage, and having no means to sustain a Faculty except the current income of the school, thought it unwise to assume the payment of salaries for the present year, and they therefore committed the school entirely to the Faculty with the privilege of retaining only so many of their number as the amount of patronage received should render necessary. During the first session the whole faculty were retained except the President, who, at his own request, was absent until near the end of the session. The number of pupils present was forty-four—less than half our usual number,—but there was a fair prospect for a large increase at the beginning of the present session. This prospect was suddenly blighted by the fall of Roanoke Island which gave the enemy access to all our interior waters and caused the prompt withdrawal of all the pupils. After a

The American Civil War few weeksâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; suspension the school was resumed with a small number which has increased to twenty. Among these are representatives of all the collegiate classes which will constitute a nucleus around which classes may be readily formed at the beginning of the next session, should Providence permit the school to be resumed at that time.86 Although the war caused numerous institutions to close, some, such as Thomasville Female College, remained open throughout the war.87 However, Christian education often became a lower priority when compared to the need for church pastors and funds. These school closures further illustrate the effects of the war on the church in North Carolina by demonstrating the debilitating lack of funding, students, and faculty in religious institutions. Christianity remained a powerful force in North Carolina throughout the Civil War, but churches in North Carolina experienced hardships that strained congregations across the state. Membership in most churches declined during the war, although some congregations grew in size. Due to the sheer lack of surviving records, some congregationsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; growth will never be recorded, but conclusions can be reached with the existing data that has survived the war and the following century. While

decline occurred early in the war, most churches and denominations had recovered by 1866 and recorded significantly higher membership than they had in the Antebellum Period. Although North Carolinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s population was growing faster than its church attendance, religiosity in North Carolina was still rising.88 In the decades after the Civil War, revival spread across the South, bringing even more North Carolinians into the fold of Christianity.89 In spite of the hardships of the Civil War, Christianity continued to be the dominant religious force in North Carolina. With the exception of temporary regional losses, the war failed to significantly erode or slow the growth of North Carolina churches. By the end of the war, Christianity had grown across the state, and the newly freed slaves were organizing their own Christian congregations. Although the reorganization of churches and denominations blurs and confuses the surviving primary sources by rendering impossible any attempts to track the religious movements of individual congregants, the clear trend of growth across denominations indicates that Christianity was growing throughout the state. The Civil War brought suffering and chaos to many congregations, but it failed to halt the growth of Christian religiosity across North Carolina.

The American Civil War Endnotes 1. Record Book, Trinity Episcopal Church Records (#858), East Carolina Manuscript Collection, J. Y. Joyner Library, East Carolina University, Greenville, North Carolina, USA. 2. Gertrude S. Carraway, Crown of Life: History of Christ Church, New Bern, N.C. 1715–1940 (New Bern, NC: 1940), 166. 3. Patrick M. Valentine, The Episcopalians of Wilson County: A History of St. Timothy’s and St. Mark’s Churches in Wilson, North Carolina 1856-1995 (Baltimore, MD: Gateway Press, 1996), 25. 4. Warrenton Baptist Church (Warrenton, N.C.) Records (MS807), Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, NC, USA. 5. Charles C. Ware, North Carolina Disciples of Christ: A History of Their Rise and Progress, and of Their Contribution to Their General Brotherhood (St. Louis, MO: Christian Board of Publication, 1927), 254. 6. “H. Methodist Church,” in History of the Churches of Hillsborough, N.C.: Ca. 1766–1962, by Pauline O. Lloyd and Allen Alexander Lloyd (Hillsborough, NC: 1963), 150. 7. Church record book, 1798-1952 (Reddies River Primitive Baptist Church, Wilkes County, N.C.), Records (MS827), Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, WinstonSalem, North Carolina, USA. 8. St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church Records (#1039), East Carolina Manuscript Collection, J. Y. Joyner Library, East Carolina University, Greenville, North Carolina, USA. 9. Maximillian E. Grunert, “Diary of the African Church in Salem, 1865,” in Records of the Moravians in North Carolina Volume XII 1856–1866, eds. Daniel C. Crews and Lisa D. Bailey (Raleigh, NC: Division of Archives and History, North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources, 2000), 6575. 10. Record Book, Trinity Episcopal Church Records. 11. “June 16, 1861,” Annie Darden Diary, North Carolina Department of Archives and History, quoted in George C. Rable, God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of the American Civil War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010), 243. 12. Walter H. Conser Jr. and Robert J. Cain, Presbyterians in North Carolina: Race, Politics, and Religious Identity in Historical Perspective (Knoxville, Tennessee: University of Tennessee Press, 2012), 132. 13. Record Book, Trinity Episcopal Church Records. 14. Minute book, transcript, 1849–1883 (Moon's Chapel Baptist Church, Siler City, N.C.) Records (MS812), Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, North Carolina, USA, 75. 15. Pauline O. Lloyd and Allen Alexander Lloyd, History of the Churches of Hillsborough, N.C.: Ca. 1766– 1962 (Hillsborough, NC: 1963), 126–127. 16. Carrie L. McLean, First Baptist Church, Charlotte, N.C., 1832–1916 (Charlotte, NC: Washburn Press, 1917), 20. 17. Minutes of the Presbytery of Fayetteville, at their Ninety-Seventh Sessions, Held at Mt. Horeb Church, Bladen County, N.C., October 10th, & 11th, 1861 (Fayetteville, NC: Printed at the Presbyterian Office, 1861). 18. Zebulon Vance to Weldon N. Edwards, 18 September 1862, in The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1900), 4th ser., 2:85–86. 19. “Board of Elders of Salem Congregation, 1865,” in Records of the Moravians in North Carolina Volume XII 1856–1866, eds. Daniel C. Crews and Lisa D. Bailey (Raleigh, NC: Division of Archives and History, North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources, 2000), 6577. 20. George C. Rable, God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of the American Civil War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010), 244. 21. George Frederick Bahnson, “Salem Diary, 1866,” in Records of the Moravians in North Carolina Volume XII 1856–1866, eds. Daniel C. Crews and Lisa D. Bailey (Raleigh, NC: Division of Archives and History, North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources, 2000), 6626.

The American Civil War 22. G. D. Bernheim, History of the German Settlements and of the Lutheran Church In North and South Carolina, From the Earliest Period of the Colonization of the Dutch, German, and Swiss Settlers to the Close of the First Half of the Present Century (Baltimore, MD: Reprinted for Clearfield Co. by Genealogical Publishing Co., 1996), 134–135. 23. McLean, First Baptist Church, 23. 24. James L. Gaddis Jr., Richard Gatlin and the Confederate Defense of Eastern North Carolina (Charleston, SC: The History Press, 2015), 127–143. 25. James M. McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 820, 826. 26. “Minutes of the Session of Hopewell Presbyterian Church,” quoted in Walter H. Conser Jr. and Robert J. Cain, Presbyterians in North Carolina: Race, Politics, and Religious Identity in Historical Perspective (Knoxville, Tennessee: University of Tennessee Press, 2012), 126–127. 27. Record Book, Trinity Episcopal Church Records, 18. Severe damage to the book has left large portions of the text destroyed or illegible. 28. Carraway, Crown of Life, 167–168. 29. Jacob L. Morgan, Bachman S. Brown, Jr., and John Hall, eds., History of the Lutheran Church In North Carolina, 1803–1953 (United Evangelical Lutheran Synod of North Carolina, 1953), 338. 30. Charles T. Penny, “Irregular Warfare in Eastern North Carolina During the Civil War” (master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 1999), 38. 31. Thomas C. DeLeon, Four Years in Rebel Capitals: An Inside View of Life in the Southern Confederacy, from Birth to Death, (Mobile, AL: The Gossip Printing Company, 1890), 373. 32. Frederick H. Dyer, Compendium of the War of the Rebellion, (Des Moines, IA: The Dyer Publishing Company, 1908), 816. 33. Conser Jr. and Cain, Presbyterians in North Carolina, 132. 34. Morgan, Brown, Jr., and John Hall, eds., History of the Lutheran Church in North Carolina, 338. 35. Bernheim, History of the German Settlements and of the Lutheran Church, 134–135. 36. Mary Daniels Johnstone, The Heritage of Wayne County, North Carolina, 1982 (Winston-Salem, NC: Wayne County Historical Association, Inc., 1982), 72. 37. Ware, North Carolina Disciples of Christ, 271. 38. William F. Powers, Tar Heel Catholics: A History of Catholicism in North Carolina (Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America, Inc., 2003), 180. 39. Jacqueline R. Boykin, Martin County’s Historic Churches: National Register and National Historic District Churches (Williamston, NC: Martin County Historical Society, 2006), 7–8. 40. “Scarcity of Ministers in Our Synod,” North Carolina Presbyterian (Fayetteville, NC), March 26, 1858. 41. Marion Blackburn, Light in the East: A History: St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Greenville (Greenville, NC: St. Paul's Episcopal Church, 2005), 5–6. 42. Gary W. Gallagher and Joan Waugh, The American War, (Flip Learning, 2015), 15. 43. Durwood Dunn, The Civil War In Southern Appalachian Methodism (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2013), 80–81, 125. 44. George William Bumgarner, Methodist Episcopal Church in North Carolina, 1865–1939 (Winston-Salem, NC: Committee on Archives and History of the Western North Carolina Conference of the United Methodist Church, 1990), 1–2. 45. Powers, Tar Heel Catholics, 171–179, 186–189. 46. Daniel C. Crews, A Storm In the Land: Southern Moravians and the Civil War (Winston-Salem, NC: Moravian Archives, 1997), 9. 47. Christian Lewis Rights, “Friedberg Diary, with Hope, 1866,” in Records of the Moravians in North Carolina Volume XII 1856–1866, eds. Daniel C. Crews and Lisa D. Bailey (Raleigh, NC: Division of Archives and History, North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources, 2000), 6498.

The American Civil War 48. George Frederick Bahnson, “Salem Diary, 1866,” in Records of the Moravians in North Carolina Volume XII 1856–1866, eds. Daniel C. Crews and Lisa D. Bailey (Raleigh, NC: Division of Archives and History, North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources, 2000), 6629. 49. “Scarcity of Ministers in Our Synod,” North Carolina Presbyterian (Fayetteville, NC), March 26, 1858. 50. “The Minutes of Fayetteville Presbytery,” North Carolina Presbyterian (Fayetteville, NC), June 18, 1858. 51. “The Church At Home,” North Carolina Presbyterian (Fayetteville, NC), November 24, 1860. 52. Carraway, Crown of Life, 164–176. 53. Lawrence Foushee London and Sarah McCulloh Lemmon, eds., The Episcopal Church in North Carolina, 1701–1959 (Raleigh, NC: The Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina, 1987), 224–225. 54. Carraway, Crown of Life, 167–173. 55. London and Lemmon, eds., The Episcopal Church in North Carolina, 272. 56. Thomas J. Taylor, A History of the Tar River Association (North Carolina, 1923), 41–47. 57. Minute book, transcript, 1829-1881 (Asheville First Baptist Church, Asheville, N.C.) Records (MS775), Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, North Carolina, USA, 34–42. 58. Morgan, Brown, Jr., and John Hall, eds., History of the Lutheran Church in North Carolina, 66. 59. “Available statistical records,” in History of the Lutheran Church In North Carolina, 1803–1953, eds., Jacob L. Morgan, Bachman S. Brown, Jr., and John Hall (United Evangelical Lutheran Synod of North Carolina, 1953), 66. 60. “A Summary of Parochial Reports,” in History of the German Settlements and of the Lutheran Church In North and South Carolina, From the Earliest Period of the Colonization of the Dutch, German, and Swiss Settlers to the Close of the First Half of the Present Century, by G. D. Bernheim (Baltimore, MD: Reprinted for Clearfield Co. by Genealogical Publishing Co., 1996), 180–181, Chapter XVIII. 61. “Statistical Diagrams: Annual Report to Catawba Baptist Association,” in Bill’s Creek Baptist Church: Two Hundred Year History 1782–1982, by Helen Mason Lu (Dallas, TX: 1984), 244. 62. Daily Dispatch, November 21, 1863, (Richmond, VA). 63. John William Jones, Christ in the Camp, or Religion in Lee’s Army, (Richmond, VA: B.F. Johnson & Co., 1887), 348. 64. Charles C. Ware, North Carolina Disciples of Christ: A History of Their Rise and Progress, and of Their Contribution to Their General Brotherhood (St. Louis, MO: Christian Board of Publication, 1927), 96. 65. “Statistical Table,” in Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Wheat Swamp M. H., Lenoir County, N.C., on 7th, 8th, and 9th, Days of October, 1858 (Goldsboro, NC: Nathaniel S. Richardson, 1858), 4. 66. “Statistical Table,” in Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Pleasant Hill, Jones County, N.C., on the 9th, 10th, and 11th, Days of October, 1862 (Goldsboro, NC: 1862), 5. 1 67. “Statistical Table,” in Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Wheat Swamp M. H., Lenoir County, N.C., on October 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th, 1863 (Goldsboro, NC: Nathaniel S. Richardson, 1863), 2. 68. “Statistical Table,” in Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Hookerton, Greene County, N.C., on the 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th October, 1864 (Greensboro, NC: A. W. Ingold & Co., 1864), 17. 69. “Statistical Table,” in Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Rountree’s Meeting House, Pitt County, N.C., on the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th of October, 1865 (Raleigh, NC: WM. B. Smith & Company, 1866), 17. 70. “Statistical Table,” in Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Fellows’ Chapel, Jones County, N.C., on the 11th, 12th, 13th and 14th of October, 1866 (Wilson, NC: North Carolinian Office, 1866), 7. 71. John Hope Franklin and Alfred A. Moss, Jr., From Slavery to Freedom: A History of Negro Americans, 6th ed. (New York: McGraw-Hill, Inc., 1988), 124–147.

The American Civil War 72. Coletta A. Crews, “Wayne County, North Carolina, a Place and a People: 1860–1880” (master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 1995), 96. 73. Leon F. Litwack, Been in the Storm So Long: The Aftermath of Slavery (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1979), 465–466. 74. Lloyd and Lloyd, History of the Churches of Hillsborough, 42. 75. “List of Col. Female Members, C.H. Baptist Ch.,” in the University Baptist Church Records, #4162, Southern Historical Collection, The Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. 76. Joseph Baysmore, A Historical Sketch of the First Colored Baptist Church Weldon, N. C., With the Life and Labor of Elder Joseph Baysmore, with Four Collected Sermons, First: The Harmony of the Law and Gospel. Second: Subject of the Pure in Heart. Third: How We Were Made Sinners and How We Were Redeemed from Sin and Made Heirs of God by His Love. Fourth: The Confirmation of Christian Faith, (Weldon, NC: Harrell's Printing House, 1887), 1. 77. Ibid., 2. 78. Franklin and Moss, Jr., From Slavery To Freedom, 211. 79. Gregory D. Taylor, “Black Philanthropy in Three North Carolina Counties 1880-1910: Craven, Edgecombe, and Warren” (master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 2006), 55–56. 80. Mark S. Mitchell, “A History of the Black Population of New Bern, North Carolina, 1862–1872” (master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 1980), 33. 81. J. W. Hood, Sketch of the Early History of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church with Jubilee Souvenir and an Appendix, (Charlotte, NC: A.M.E. Zion Publishing House, 1914), 28–92. 82. Franklin and Moss, Jr., From Slavery to Freedom, 211. 83. James T. Haley, Afro-American Encyclopaedia; or, The Thoughts, Doings, and Sayings of the Race, Embracing Addresses, Lectures, Biographical Sketches, Sermons, Poems, Names of Universities, Colleges, Seminaries, Newspapers, Books, and a History of the Denominations, Giving the Numerical Strength of Each. In Fact, It Teaches Every Subject of Interest to the Colored People, as Discussed by More than One Hundred of Their Wisest and Best Men and Women, (Nashville, TN: Haley & Florida, 1895), 444. 84. Conser Jr. and Cain, Presbyterians in North Carolina, 135–137. 85. Charles Lee Raper, The Church and Private Schools of North Carolina: A Historical Study (Greensboro, NC: J.J. Stone, printer, 1898), 118–140. 86. Minutes of the Fifty-Sixth Annual Session of the Chowan Baptist Association, Held with the Church at Middle Swamp, Gates Co., N.C., May 13, 14, 1862 (Raleigh, NC: Printed at the Biblical Recorder Office, 1862). 87. Raper, The Church and Private Schools of North Carolina, 126. 88. “Percent Increase in Communicants 1890–1906, (% Population Change),” in The Promise of the New South: Life After Reconstruction, by Edward L. Ayers (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 499. 89. Edward L. Ayers, The Promise of the New South: Life After Reconstruction (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 162–186.

References Primary Baysmore, Joseph. A Historical Sketch of the First Colored Baptist Church Weldon, N. C., With the Life and Labor of Elder Joseph Baysmore, with Four Collected Sermons, First: The Harmony of the Law and Gospel. Second: Subject of the Pure in Heart. Third: How We Were Made Sinners and How We Were Redeemed from Sin and Made Heirs of God by His Love. Fourth: The Confirmation of Christian Faith. Weldon, NC: Harrell’s Printing House, 1887.

The American Civil War Church record book, 1798–1952 (Reddies River Primitive Baptist Church, Wilkes County, N.C.), Records (MS827). Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, North Carolina, USA. Crews, Daniel C. and Lisa D. Bailey, ed. Records of the Moravians in North Carolina Volume XII 1856-1866. Raleigh, NC: Division of Archives and History, North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources, 2000. Jones, John William. Christ in the Camp, or Religion in Lee’s Army. Richmond, VA: B.F. Johnson & Co., 1887. Minute book, transcript, 1829–1881 (Asheville First Baptist Church, Asheville, N.C.) Records (MS775). Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, North Carolina, USA. Minute book, 1849–1868 (Warrenton Baptist Church, Warrenton, N.C.) Records (MS807). Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, NC, USA. Minute book, transcript, 1849–1883 (Moon’s Chapel Baptist Church, Siler City, N.C.) Records (MS812). Special Collections and Archives, Z. Smith Reynolds Library, Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, North Carolina, USA. Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Wheat Swamp M. H., Lenoir County, N.C., on 7th, 8th, and 9th, Days of October, 1858. Goldsboro, NC: Nathaniel S. Richardson, 1858. Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Pleasant Hill, Jones County, N.C., on the, the 9th, 10th, and 11th, Days of October, 1862. Goldsboro, NC: 1862. Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Wheat Swamp M. H., Lenoir County, N.C., on October 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th, 1863. Goldsboro, NC: Nathaniel S. Richardson, 1863 Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Hookerton, Greene County, N.C., on the 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th October, 1864. Greensboro, NC: A. W. Ingold & Co., 1864. Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Rountree’s Meeting House, Pitt County, N.C., on the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th of October, 1865. Raleigh, NC: Wm. B. Smith & Company, 1866. Minutes of the Annual Conference of the Disciples of Christ Held at Fellows’ Chapel, Jones County, N.C., on the 11th, 12th, 13th and 14th of October, 1866. Wilson, NC: North Carolinian Office, 1866. Minutes of the Fifty-Sixth Annual Session of the Chowan Baptist Association. Held with the Church at Middle Swamp, Gates Co., N.C., May 13, 14, 1862. John Mitchell, Clerk pro tem. Raleigh, NC: Printed at the Biblical Recorder Office, 1862. Minutes of the Presbytery of Fayetteville, at their Ninety-Seventh Sessions, Held at Mt. Horeb Church, Bladen County, N.C., October 10th, & 11th, 1861. Fayetteville, NC: Printed at the Presbyterian Office, 1861. 65

The American Civil War St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church Records (#1039), East Carolina Manuscript Collection, J. Y. Joyner Library, East Carolina University, Greenville, North Carolina, USA. Trinity Episcopal Church Records (#858), East Carolina Manuscript Collection, J. Y. Joyner Library, East Carolina University, Greenville, North Carolina, USA. University Baptist Church Records, #4162, Southern Historical Collection, The Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Vance, Zebulon. Zebulon Vance to Weldon N. Edwards, 18 September 1862. In The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1900. Secondary Ayers, Edward L. The Promise of the New South: Life After Reconstruction. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992. Bernheim, G. D. History of the German Settlements and of the Lutheran Church In North and South Carolina, From the Earliest Period of the Colonization of the Dutch, German, and Swiss Settlers to the Close of the First Half of the Present Century. Baltimore, MD: Reprinted for Clearfield Co. by Genealogical Publishing Co., 1996. Blackburn, Marion. Light In the East: A History: St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Greenville. Greenville, NC: St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, 2005. Boykin, Jacqueline R. Martin County’s Historic Churches: National Register and National Historic District Churches. Williamston, NC: Martin County Historical Society, 2006. Bumgarner, George William. Methodist Episcopal Church in North Carolina, 1865–1939. Winston-Salem, NC: Committee on Archives and History of the Western North Carolina Conference of the United Methodist Church, 1990. Caraway, Gertrude S. Crown of Life: History of Christ Church, New Bern, N.C. 1715–1940. New Bern, NC: 1940. Conser Jr., Walter H. and Robert J. Cain. Presbyterians in North Carolina: Race, Politics, and Religious Identity in Historical Perspective. Knoxville, Tennessee: University of Tennessee Press, 2012. Crews, C. Daniel. A Storm in the Land: Southern Moravians and the Civil War. WinstonSalem, NC: Moravian Archives, 1997. Crews, Coletta A. “Wayne County, North Carolina, a Place and a People: 1860–1880.” master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 1995. DeLeon, Thomas C. Four Years in Rebel Capitals: An Inside View of Life in the Southern Confederacy, from Birth to Death. Mobile, AL: The Gossip Printing Company, 1890. Dunn, Durwood. The Civil War in Southern Appalachian Methodism. Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2013. Dyer, Frederick H. Compendium of the War of the Rebellion. Des Moines, IA: The Dyer Publishing Company, 1908.

The American Civil War Franklin, John Hope, and Alfred A. Moss, Jr. From Slavery to Freedom: A History of Negro Americans. 6th ed. New York: McGraw-Hill, Inc., 1988. Gaddis Jr., James L. Richard Gatlin and the Confederate Defense of Eastern North Carolina. Charleston, SC: The History Press, 2015. Gallagher, Gary, and Joan Waugh. The American War. Flip Learning, 2015. Haley, James T. Afro-American Encyclopaedia; or, The Thoughts, Doings, and Sayings of the Race, Embracing Addresses, Lectures, Biographical Sketches, Sermons, Poems, Names of Universities, Colleges, Seminaries, Newspapers, Books, and a History of the Denominations, Giving the Numerical Strength of Each. In Fact, It Teaches Every Subject of Interest to the Colored People, as Discussed by More than One Hundred of Their Wisest and Best Men and Women. Nashville, TN: Haley & Florida, 1895. Hood, J. W. Sketch of the Early History of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church with Jubilee Souvenir and an Appendix. Charlotte, NC: A.M.E. Zion Publishing House, 1914. Johnstone, Mary Daniels. The Heritage of Wayne County, North Carolina, 1982. WinstonSalem, NC: Wayne County Historical Association, Inc., 1982. Litwack, Leon F. Been in the Storm So Long: The Aftermath of Slavery. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1979. Lloyd, Pauline O., and Allen Alexander Lloyd. History of the Churches of Hillsborough, N.C.: Ca. 1766–1962. Hillsborough, NC: 1963. London, Lawrence Foushee and Sarah McCulloh Lemmon, eds. The Episcopal Church in North Carolina, 1701–1959. Raleigh, NC: The Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina, 1987. Lu, Helen Mason. Bill’s Creek Baptist Church: Two Hundred Year History 1782–1982. Dallas, TX: 1984. McLean, Carrie L. First Baptist Church, Charlotte, N.C., 1832–1916. Charlotte, NC: Washburn Press, 1917. McPherson, James M. Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988. Mitchell, Mark S. “A History of the Black Population of New Bern, North Carolina, 1862– 1872.” master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 1980. Morgan, Jacob L., Bachman S. Brown, Jr., and John Hall, eds. History of the Lutheran Church In North Carolina, 1803–1953. United Evangelical Lutheran Synod of North Carolina, 1953. Penny, Charles T. “Irregular Warfare in Eastern North Carolina During the Civil War.” master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 1999. Powers, William F. Tar Heel Catholics: A History of Catholicism in North Carolina. Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America, Inc., 2003. Rable, George C. God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of the American Civil War. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010. 67

The American Civil War Raper, Charles Lee, The Church and Private Schools of North Carolina: A Historical Study. Greensboro, NC: J.J. Stone, printer, 1898. Taylor, Gregory D. “Black Philanthropy in Three North Carolina Counties 1880–1910: Craven, Edgecombe, and Warren.” master’s thesis, East Carolina University, 2006. Taylor, Thomas J. A History of the Tar River Association. North Carolina, 1923. Valentine, Patrick M. The Episcopalians of Wilson County: A History of St. Timothy’s and St. Mark’s Churches in Wilson, North Carolina 1856–1995. Baltimore, MD: Gateway Press, 1996. Ware, Charles C. North Carolina Disciples of Christ: A History of Their Rise and Progress, and of Their Contribution to Their General Brotherhood. St. Louis, MO: Christian Board of Publication, 1927.

ALTERNATIVE THEORIES ON THE LOSS OF THE BRITISH BATTLECRUISERS AT THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND Briceño Bowrey Briceño “Brice” Bowrey is a junior at East Carolina University and is currently majoring in Public Health Studies and History. Although he has previously done research on the history of tobacco and in the field of tobacco control, his current research interests include military and maritime history. More specifically, he enjoys examining naval warfare in the late modern period. In the future, he hopes to branch out and study the techniques and weapons of historical European martial arts. The Battle of Jutland is widely considered to be both one of the most important naval battles of World War I and in British naval history. This battle, which occurred from 31 May to 1 June 1916, pitted the German High Seas Fleet against the Grand Fleet of the United Kingdom. During the battle, the British lost three battlecruisers to catastrophic internal explosions. The cause of these explosions has been the subject of much debate over the course of the last century. This paper seeks to survey and analyze several major theories on this topic using primary source documents and contemporary reports. These sources, in combination with an understanding of the technical specifications of battlecruisers and the equipment used by their crews, provide a multifaceted explanation of the British losses.

The Battle of Jutland is widely considered to be both one of the most important naval battles of World War I and British naval history. This battle, which occurred from 31 May to 1 June 1916, pitted the German High Seas Fleet against the Grand Fleet of the United Kingdom. To break the ongoing blockade of Germany, Admiral Scheer decided it was necessary to lure out and destroy a portion of the numerically superior Grand Fleet. At that point, he could have successfully engaged the remaining British ships. Unfortunately for

Germany, Scheer’s plan was entirely unsuccessful. After being informed that the German navy was in the process of conducting an operation, a large majority of the Grand Fleet, under the command of Admiral Jellicoe, sailed to engage and destroy the German navy. First contact between the two fleets occurred when the British Battlecruiser Fleet, under the command of Vice-Admiral Beatty, encountered and engaged the German First Scouting Group.1

Loss of the British Battlecruisers Soon after making contact, the British and German battlecruisers exchanged fire. As the fight continued, three British battlecruisers were lost due to catastrophic internal explosions. The German forces, under the command of Admiral Hipper, finished the initial engagement without losing a single battlecruiser. Considering that the British forces consisted of four battleships and six battlecruisers, and that Hipper only had five battlecruisers under his command, this outcome is surprising. Perhaps even more surprising was that the British Battlecruiser Fleet also failed to inflict major damage on their adversaries before the end of the engagement.2 Since 1916, many historians have studied the events of the battle and the loss of these ships with the intent of determining the cause of the internal explosions. While one theory has gathered significant support in recent years, further study of alternative theories may provide a more complete understanding of the loss of the battlecruisers at the Battle of Jutland. Before these losses can be analyzed, the firsthand accounts must be studied. Unfortunately, many of those who could have provided firsthand accounts perished in the explosions that sunk the ships. However, there were some survivors who could tell their tale. Petty Officer E. Francis of “X” Turret on the HMS Queen Mary recounts,

Then came the big explosion, which shook us a bit….The after 4-inch battery was smashed right out of all recognition, and then I noticed the ship had an awful list to port…P.O Stares was the last I saw coming up from the working chamber, and I asked whether he had passed the order [to evacuate] to the magazine and shell room, and he told me it was no use, as the water was right up the truck leading from the shell room, so the bottom of the ship must have been out of her.3 Francis’ account notes that the location of shell penetration appeared to be near one of the ships 4-inch guns. Based on the layout of Lion class battlecruisers, and the location of their 4-inch guns, this account seems to indicate that the shells responsible for the destruction of the Queen Mary penetrated the ship’s armor and potentially entered a magazine.4 The Indefatigable was also destroyed in the early stages of the battle. The Navigating Officer of the New Zealand directly observed the sinking of the Indefatigable. He states that the Indefatigable was “Hit by two shells, one on the foc’sle [Naval vernacular for “forecastle,” the crew’s quarters in the ship’s bow.—Ed.] and one on the fore turret.”5 The officer notes that both shells appeared to explode on impact, but after a pause of about thirty seconds, the ship “Completely blew up, commencing apparently from forward.”6 Interestingly, the officer also notes that the main

Loss of the British Battlecruisers explosion was followed by clouds of dense and dark smoke, a distinctive byproduct of burning cordite shell propellant.7 Since this propellant was stored in the magazine, the description provided by this officer seems to indicate that the Indefagitable suffered from a magazine detonation. It should be noted that the HMS Lion, Vice-Admiral Beatty’s flagship, almost suffered the same fate. The Gunnery Officer of the Lion records the following: An enemy shell of large caliber…hit the turret and detonated inside the gun house, putting the turret out of action and causing, with the cordite fire that resulted from it, about sixty deaths….The Officer of the Turret, though himself severely wounded, realized that his turret was out of action and on fire, and also that the fire might reach the magazine. He accordingly passed his orders by the direct voice-pipe down to the handling-room below, to close the magazine doors and open the magazine flood valves. This order was promptly carried out, and did in fact prevent the flash from the cordite charges reaching the magazines, and so the ship from being blown up.8 This account seems to confirm the belief that cordite fires caused by the penetration of German shells resulted in the internal explosions that sunk the other battlecruisers. Presumably, the magazine doors of the lost ships were not closed, nor were their magazines flooded in a timely manner. It is likely that accounts such as

these have led historians, such as Admiral Reginald Bacon, to look to the flash doors on ships for an explanation of the losses. In his book, The Jutland Scandal, Bacon explains that shells and shell propellant are exposed as they wait to be loaded and fired, and that flash fires can occur if the turret is struck. Flash doors are put in place to prevent these fires from spreading down and into the magazine. Bacon asserts, quite confidently, that the flash doors in the ships must have been inadequate or unable to cope with the explosive force and heat produced when the cordite in the turret ignited.9 To support this theory, Bacon claims that the British navy can never be certain of the quality of individual ship components. Poor materials, random errors in production, or pure chance may result in a component that does not meet quality standards. According to Bacon, random quality checks and screenings will inevitably result in some unsatisfactory materials slipping past the inspectors. Considering this, Bacon concludes that inadequate, malfunctioning, or improperly used flash doors are solely responsible for the loss of the Indefatigable, Queen Mary, and Invincible.10 A similar belief was held by the Gunnery Committee assembled by Beatty to examine the lessons that could be learned from the battle. The committee reports,

Loss of the British Battlecruisers With existing designs of turrets it is impossible to safeguard the Handling Room from the flash of a shell burst, in the gun-house or working chamber. Magazines must therefore be able to withstand flame under pressure…One of the venting plates in the Lion admitted a tongue of flame into the Magazine; this plate was of the old type, and had not be modified in accordance with A.W.O. 1331 and G.F.G.O. No 459-15.5.16.11 Beatty was originally a supporter of this theory. He seems to have held this belief even before the report from the Gunnery Committee was released. In a letter to the Admiralty, sent only two days after the battle, Beatty states, “Undoubtedly [the] loss of Invincible was due to magazine doors being left open…I have given orders to battle-cruisers that magazine doors are to be kept closed on one clip….”12 While Bacon assumes that the flash doors were inadequate, Beatty seems to have concluded that they simply were not being used. This theory is compatible and complementary to the theory of historian Nicholas Lambert. In “‘Our Bloody Ships’ or ‘Our Bloody System’? Jutland and the Loss of the Battle Cruisers, 1916,” Nicholas Lambert attempts to analyze the British Admiralty’s conclusions regarding the cause of the loss of the battlecruisers at the Battle of Jutland. Using the conclusions of a small investigation conducted shortly after the battle as his primary evidence, Lambert asserts that British battlecruisers were

overstocked with cordite. More importantly, he asserts that the cordite they carried was left exposed and insecurely stored during battle. To strengthen this argument, Lambert explains that the prevailing naval doctrine of the era put an emphasis on rapid fire. From Beatty’s letters and the firing exercises of his ships, Lambert determined that Beatty, his subordinates, and his crew wholeheartedly embraced this doctrine. Lambert concludes that this led them to forego the proper storage of cordite so that the guns could be loaded and fired more rapidly.13 Indeed, the premise that naval doctrine of the era put an emphasis on rapid fire is likely correct. This school of thought can be seen across several works of the era, notably those of Baudry and Fiske.14 Additionally, the Germans remarked on the extremely rapid fire of several of the British ships, including the Queen Mary.15 Notably, twenty days after the battle, Vice-Admiral Sturdee wrote a memorandum titled “Lessons from Battle of 31 May 1916.” In it, he stated, “It seems to be of great importance that we should open fire before the enemy, and establish hitting before he does. Provided that increased rate of fire gives a reasonable chance of increased rate of hitting, the rate of fire should be increased to the furthest possible limit.”16 Clearly, rapid fire was a vital part of British naval strategy, even after the Battle of Jutland. Therefore, there is little doubt

Loss of the British Battlecruisers that shortcuts would have been taken to ensure that cordite was supplied to the turrets as fast as possible. If the crews were focused on rapid loading and disregarded safety to achieve this, it would make sense that all the doors from the turret to the magazine would be left open. Lambert’s theory not only confirms and corroborates Bacon’s theory, but it also provides a more nuanced explanation of the loss of the battlecruisers. However, Admiral Jellicoe disagrees with both of these historians. Jellicoe opened the twelfth chapter of his book, The Grand Fleet, 1914–1916; its Creation, Development and Work, by discussing the loss of the battlecruisers. He wrote, “One explanation was that our ships were very inadequately protected by armour as compared with the German vessels of the battle cruiser type. It was considered undesirable to draw attention to this publicly while the war was in progress.”17 This statement makes it clear that Jellicoe believes armor, or lack thereof, is responsible for the loss of the battlecruisers. This “thin armor” narrative was also recorded in Julian Corbett’s influential book series, History of the Great War: Naval Operations.18 Jellicoe acknowledges that, during the war, actions may have been taken to suppress information regarding the loss of the battlecruisers. However, it is possible that Jellicoe made that statement to explain

away the fact that no major wartime investigation concluded that a lack of armor was responsible for the losses. Jellicoe also states, “The German ships carried a greater weight of armour than their British contemporaries…The German vessels possessed thicker armour in all positions, including deck protection….”19 These statements may have some truth to them. Historian John Roberts notes that the British seemed to favor protection of their ship’s engines and machinery rather than their turrets and barbettes.20 A review of the armor schematics of German and British battlecruisers leads to the same conclusion. Take the German battlecruiser Seydlitz and the British battlecruiser Lion as examples of the differences in armor thickness between British and German ships. Seydlitz, which had one of its turrets penetrated at the Battle of Dogger Bank, sported 250 mm of turret armor. The Lion, which had a turret penetrated at Jutland, sported only 229 mm of turret armor. The armor on the Derfflinger, a ship that fought for the Germans at Jutland, accounted for approximately 37 percent of its displacement. The Lion’s armor, however, only accounted for 23 percent of its displacement.21 Furthermore, for purposes of comparison, it should be noted that the penetration of the Lion occurred at a greater distance than the penetration of the Seydliz.22

Loss of the British Battlecruisers This lack of armor on British turrets may have left them more vulnerable to penetration and the flash fires that would likely follow. Some historians assert that British ships were intentionally given less armor than their German counterparts. Those historians contend that, if fewer resources are put into individual ships, more ships can be produced. Additionally, if fewer resources and time are put into defense, more resources are left available to devote to offense. Some historians even go so far as to suggest that the tradeoffs of quantity over quality and of firepower over armor were essential to the British victory at Jutland.23 It should also be noted that Henry Mayo, a United States admiral, agreed with Jellicoe’s conclusion that the thin armor on the battlecruiser was responsible for the losses. In a hearing of the United States House Committee on Naval Affairs, President Woodrow Wilson asked Mayo about the lessons the British learned at the Battle of Jutland. Admiral Mayo responded by stating that they learned about the necessity of better armor protection. As the Commander in Chief of the Atlantic Fleet for approximately two and a half years at the time of this statement, Mayo was well suited to discuss this topic.24 Considering that he fulfilled that role during the later stages of WWI, it is highly likely that he came to this conclusion after speaking with several senior British naval officials, perhaps including Jellicoe himself. Since this 74

statement was taken during a congressional hearing, which included the president and several important congressmen, Admiral Mayo likely believed everything that he said. His support of Jellicoe’s “armor theory” lends it more credence. Jellicoe also sought to explain the inability of the British to inflict much damage on the Germans during the battlecruiser engagement. In his book, he states the following: The Germans possessed a delayaction fuse which, combined with a highly efficient armour-piercing projectile, ensured the burst of shell taking place inside the armour of British ships instead of outside, or whilst passing through the armour, which was the case with British shells of that date fired against the thick German armour.25 This belief was also held by Admiral Mayo, and is likely true. Documents show that lyddite was likely the explosive used in the British shells fired at the Battle of Jutland.26 Lyddite, unlike some other explosive compounds, was known to explode on impact, as Jellicoe describes.27 The problems and shortcomings of lyddite were well known, but due to shortages of a more effective explosive, such as trinitrotoluene, lyddite continued to be used.28 While the use of lyddite instead of other explosives is a valid explanation for the

Loss of the British Battlecruisers inability of the British to inflict damage, there are other explanations for the Germans’ resistance to internal explosions. Director of Naval Construction Eustace H. W. T. d’Eyncourt noted several important facts about German ships in a memorandum: “Blucher” was repeatedly hit by heavy shell, some of which, entering through the unprotected bottom must have penetrated to, or burst in or near her magazines. A turret in “Seydlitz” was seen to be surrounded by sheets of flame rising as high as her masthead and obviously due to fire in the magazine. “Koln” was under the concentrated fire of five Battle Cruisers at about 6000 yards for some minutes, but there was no trace of an explosion. A light cruiser reduced to sinking condition passed the whole length of the battle line under heavy fire and burning furiously, but yet did not blow up.29 Clearly, the German ships mentioned by d’Eyncourt (Blucher, Seydlitz and Koln) had their armor penetrated, yet did not explode like the British battlecruisers. These facts seem to disprove Jellicoe’s theory that the superior armor of the German battlecruiser protected them from internal explosions. While it is true that the British battlecruisers carried less armor than their German counterparts, other factors definitely contributed to the German resilience. The simplest explanation for the lack of damage inflicted by the British

battlecruisers is simply that they were unable to hit their targets. It is possible that the previously discussed emphasis on rapid fire came at the cost of accuracy, as Lambert suggests.30 In The Jutland Scandal, Admiral J.E.T. Harper asserts that poor visibility and weather disproportionally hampered British gunnery. He explains that poor weather negated the British range advantage and allowed the Germans to more easily disengage from battle by escaping into the mist. Harper also notes that, due to direction of movement and location of the weather, British ships were silhouetted against a clear horizon, while the German ships were obscured.31 Alternatively, some reports suggest that, both in battle and in practice, British gunners faced serious interference from the smoke of their own weapons. As mentioned previously, the shell propellant used by the British produced clouds of particularly dark and dense smoke when ignited.32 It should also be noted that, during the Battle of Dogger Bank, which took place before the Battle of Jutland, occurring from 31 May to 1 June 1916, the SMS Seydlitz was struck by shells from the HMS Lion. The shell propellant in the turret was ignited, creating an explosion and starting a fire. This fire soon began to spread toward the magazines, which might have resulted in a detonation and the complete loss of the ship. Fortunately for the Germans, some officers were able to

Loss of the British Battlecruisers find their way through the smoke and flames to turn the valve that would flood the magazines. This action most likely saved the ship from destruction.33 From this incident, the Germans likely learned a lesson in regards to flash protections and the proper handling of shell propellant. These stricter precautionary measures likely played a role in the German’s resistance to flash fires and magazine detonations. Furthermore, this piece of evidence lends further credence to both Bacon’s “magazine door” theory and Lambert’s “cordite handling” theory. However, a closer look at cordite itself is now necessary to further validate or disconfirm Bacon and Lambert’s theories.

Unfortunately, an analysis of the truth of these claims is complicated by the fact that cordite has existed in various chemical forms over time. However, it is likely that Cordite MD was the form most commonly used during World War I. Unfortunately for the British, there is evidence that cordite might have been slightly too good at exploding.

Tests conducted in 1910 suggested that cordite would slowly decompose at temperatures “not greatly above the normal.”36 Whether “normal” was referring to 25°C (room temperature) or zero degrees Celsius is unclear. Regardless, it is likely that either temperature could be exceeded in the bowels of a ship. Chemicals produced in the decomposition of “These stricter precautionary cordite can act as catalysts for the explosive reaction, measures likely played a role in making the propellant the German’s resistance to flash more powerful and more fires and magazine detonations. unstable.

Cordite was a shell propellant used by the British throughout WWI. Composed of a Furthermore, this piece of volatile mixture of cellulose nitrate and Additionally, tests evidence lends further credence nitroglycerin, cordite to both Bacon’s “magazine door” conducted in 1945 by the creates a controlled Unites States Navy found theory and Lambert’s “cordite explosion that could that cordite was relatively handling” theory.” propel a projectile to unstable regardless of its its target. Often, plasticizers and stabilizers state of decay. Those tests found that were added to change certain chemical and cordite would ignite 530 mm from a flash 34 physical properties of the explosive. source, whereas standard American Some people believe that the chemical propellants would only ignite when moved properties of cordite may have facilitated 410 mm closer to the same flash source.37 the creation of particularly large flash fires Since cordite ignites so easily, it is logical 35 when British turrets were struck. to conclude that a British ship could have

Loss of the British Battlecruisers more flash fires than its German counterpart, even if all other factors are ignored. Therefore, d’Enycourt was entirely correct when he speculated that, “…the nature of the ammunition we use is not sufficiently stable to ensure safety.”38 An emphasis on rapid fire in the British navy led to the disregard of safety precautions because crews wanted to maximize the speed at which cordite and ammunition could be brought to the guns. Magazine doors left open made the ships particularly susceptible to flash fires spreading down to, and detonating, the magazine. While the lack of heavy armor on the British battlecruisers was likely not the cause of the shell penetrations that destroyed those ships, it certainly may have exacerbated the situation; the cordite used by the British was already especially susceptible to ignition. This is due to cordite’s natural properties and the potential chemical decay which may have occurred as the propellant sat in storage. This, combined with poor handling practices, made the British particularly

susceptible to internal explosions. The Germans were shielded from the dangers of flash fire because the handling and storage procedures of their shell propellant were much stricter. This strict stance was likely adopted after the Battle of Dogger Bank, when the Germans almost lost a ship to some of the same factors that caused the loss of the battlecruisers at Jutland. While it is easy to attribute the loss of the battlecruisers to one singular factor, it is highly unlikely that the losses are simple enough to be explained in this manner. Instead, it is likely that a variety of complex, compounding factors caused the British losses. Through the study of the various theories proposed over the last century, one can gain a more complete understand of this event. Unfortunately, due to the lack of conclusive physical evidence and the amount of time passed since the Battle of Jutland, it is highly unlikely that the exact causes of the British battlecruisers’ destruction will ever be determined.

Endnotes 1. John Ernest Troyte Harper, The Truth About Jutland (London: John Murray, 1927), 35–53. 2. Ibid., 69–71. 3. H.W. Fawcett and G.W.W. Hooper, eds., The Fighting at Jutland: The Personal Experiences of Sixty Officers and Men of the British Fleet (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2001), 46–47. 4. Siegfried Breyer, Battleships and Battle Cruisers, 1905–1970, trans. Alfred Kurti (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company Inc., 1973), 126–128. 5. H.W. Fawcett and G.W.W. Hooper, eds., The Fighting at Jutland, 38. 6. Ibid. 7. Simon Harley, “Cordite,” The Dreadnaught Project, accessed April 14, 2017, http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite.

Loss of the British Battlecruisers 8. H.W. Fawcett and G.W.W. Hooper, eds., The Fighting at Jutland, 93–94. 9. Reginald Bacon, The Jutland Scandal (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1933), 61. 10. Ibid., 59–60. 11. David R. Beatty, The Beatty Papers: Selections from the Private and Official Correspondence of Admiral of the Fleet Earl Beatty, ed. Bryan Ranft (Brookfield, VT: Gower Publishing Company, 1989), 351. 12. David R. Beatty, The Beatty Papers, ed. Bryan Ranft, 318. 13. Nicholas A. Lambert, “‘Our Bloody Ships’ or ‘Our Bloody System’? Jutland and the Loss of the Battle Cruisers, 1916,” The Journal of Military History 62 (1998): 55. 14. Niall Mackay, Christopher Price and Jamie Wood, “Weight of Shell Must Tell: A Lanchestrian Reappraisal of the Battle of Jutland,” The Journal of the Historical Association 101 (2016): 541. 15. Julian Corbett, History of the Great War: Naval Operations (London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1920), 3: 337. 16. David R. Beatty, The Beatty Papers, ed. Bryan Ranft, 344. 17. John R. Jellicoe, The Grand Fleet, 1914–1916; its Creation, Development and Work (New York: George H. Doran Company, 1919), 305. 18. Corbett, History of the Great War: Naval Operations, 3: 336. 19. Jellicoe, The Grand Fleet, 312. 20. John Roberts, Battlecruisers (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press, 1997), 104. 21. Siegfried Breyer, Battleships and Battle Cruisers, 1905–1970, trans. Alfred Kurti (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company Inc., 1973), 127, 273, 278. 22. N.J.M Campbell, Jutland: An Analysis of the Fighting (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press, 1986), 64; Tobias R. Philbin, Battle of Dogger Bank: The First Dreadnought Engagement, January 1915 (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 2014), 136. 23. Niall Mackay, Christopher Price and Jamie Wood, “Weight of Shell Must Tell: A Lanchestrian Reappraisal of the Battle of Jutland,” The Journal of the Historical Association 101 (2016): 562. 24. United States House of Representatives Committee on Naval Affairs, Statement of Admiral Henry Mayo, Commander in Chief of the Atlantic Fleet, January 30, 1919, http://congressional.proquest.com/congressional/docview/t29.d30.hrg-1919-nah-0005?accountid=10639. 25. Jellicoe, The Grand Fleet, 313. 26. Ministry of Munitions, History of the Ministry of Munitions, 1922, 3:15, https://archive.org/search.php?query=subject%3A%22Great+Britain.+Munitions%2C+Ministry+of%22. 27. “Scientific Chronicle: Maximite,” The American Catholic Quarterly Review, July, 1901, 602; “Lyddite,” Christian Advocate, March 15, 1900. 28. Ministry of Munitions, History of the Ministry of Munitions, 1922, 1:11, https://archive.org/search.php?query=subject%3A%22Great+Britain.+Munitions%2C+Ministry+of%22. 29. ADM 1/8463/176, Minute sheets 3–5, quoted in Simon Harley, “A Direct Train of Cordite,” The Dreadnaught Project, accessed February 9, 2017, http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite. 30. Nicholas A. Lambert, “‘Our Bloody Ships’ or ‘Our Bloody System’? Jutland and the Loss of the Battle Cruisers, 1916,” The Journal of Military History 62 (1998): 31. 31. Harper, The Truth About Jutland, 21–22. 32. Simon Harley, “Cordite,” The Dreadnaught Project, accessed April 14, 2017, http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite. 33. Philbin, Battle of Dogger Bank, 136. 34. “Cordite,” Nature 84 (July 1910): 110. 35. Simon Harley, “A Direct Train of Cordite,” The Dreadnaught Project, accessed February 9, 2017, http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite. 36. “Cordite,” Nature 84 (July 1910): 110.

Loss of the British Battlecruisers 37. William J. Jurens, “The Loss of HMS Hood: A Re-Examination,” NavWeaps, accessed April 10, 2017, http://www.navweaps.com/index_inro/INRO_Hood_p3.htm. 38. ADM 1/8463/176, Minute sheets 3-5, quoted in Simon Harley, “A Direct Train of Cordite,” The Dreadnaught Project, accessed February 9, 2017, http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite.

References Primary ADM 1/8463/176, Minute sheets 3-5. Quoted in Harley, Simon. “A Direct Train of Cordite.” The Dreadnaught Project. Accessed February 9, 2017. http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite. Beatty, David R. The Beatty Papers: Selections from the Private and Official Correspondence of Admiral of the Fleet Earl Beatty. Edited by Bryan Ranft. Brookfield, VT: Gower Publishing Company, 1989. Corbett, Julian. History of the Great War: Naval Operations. Vol. 3. London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1923. “Cordite.” Nature 84 (July 1910): 109–110. Fawcett, H.W., G.W.W. Hooper, eds. The Fighting at Jutland: The Personal Experiences of Sixty Officers and Men of the British Fleet. Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2001. Harper, John Ernest Troyes. The Truth About Jutland. London: John Murray, 1927. Jellicoe, John R. The Grand Fleet, 1914-1916; its Creation, Development and Work. New York: George H. Doran Company, 1919. “Lyddite.” Christian Advocate, March 15, 1900. Ministry of Munitions. History of the Ministry of Munitions. 8 vols. 1922. https://archive.org/search.php?query=subject%3A%22Great+Britain.+Munitions%2C +Ministry+of%22. “Scientific Chronicle: Maximite.” The American Catholic Quarterly Review, July 1901, 602. United States House of Representatives Committee on Naval Affairs. Statement of Admiral Henry Mayo, Commander in Chief of the Atlantic Fleet. January 30, 1919. http://congressional.proquest.com/congressional/docview/t29.d30.hrg-1919-nah0005?accountid=10639. Secondary Breyer, Siegfried. Battleships and Battle Cruisers, 1905-1970. Translated by Alfred Kurti. Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company Inc., 1973. Campbell, N.J.M. Jutland: An Analysis of the Fighting. Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press, 1986. Harley, Simon. “A Direct Train of Cordite.” The Dreadnaught Project. Accessed February 9, 2017. http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite.

Loss of the British Battlecruisers ——. “Cordite.” The Dreadnaught Project. Accessed April 14, 2017. http://www.dreadnoughtproject.org/tfs/index.php/A_Direct_Train_of_Cordite. Jurens, William J. “The Loss of HMS Hood: A Re-Examination.” NavWeaps. Accessed April 10, 2017. http://www.navweaps.com/index_inro/INRO_Hood_p3.htm. Lambert, Nicholas A. “‘Our Bloody Ships’ or ‘Our Bloody System’? Jutland and the Loss of the Battle Cruisers, 1916.” The Journal of Military History 62 (1998): 29–55. Mackay, Niall, Christopher Price and Jamie Wood. “Weight of Shell Must Tell: A Lanchestrian Reappraisal of the Battle of Jutland.” The Journal of the Historical Association 101 (2016): 536–563. Philbin, Tobias R. Battle of Dogger Bank: The First Dreadnought Engagement, January 1915. Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 2014. Roberts, John. Battlecruisers. Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1997.

AN ANALYSIS OF EXISTENTIALISM AND THE ONTOLOGICAL POSSIBILITY OF ROMANTIC LOVE Katie Chandler Chandler is one of East Carolina University’s undergraduate students pursuing a quadruple major in philosophy, history, religious studies, and great books. She intends to get her Master’s Degree in religious studies, focusing on South Asia and Hinduism, and progress into teaching at the university level. Additionally, Chandler has participated in several study abroad opportunities and holds numerous leadership positions on campus councils and in national honors societies. Abstract: Existentialism is a philosophy on how to live an authentic life. A well-known version of existentialism has the odd implication that romantic love is unworkable. Jean-Paul Sartre, a famous existentialist, says that romantic love is existentially impossible because it either leads to sadism or masochism, compromising an individual’s radical freedom (which is the foundation for existential theory). Simone de Beauvoir, another prominent existentialist and Sartre’s very close friend strongly disagreed, claiming that although romantic love was existentially dangerous, it was indeed possible and could result in a positive conclusion if done correctly. I argue that Sartre is correct, and that according to existentialism, romantic love is impossible. I also argue that de Beauvoir’s account of existentialism allowing for romantic love is not genuine existentialism, and her allowance of romantic love collapses the entirety of existential theory.

In the classical period, Greek philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle supported essentialism, the view that everything has an essence, a certain set of properties that are necessary for a thing to be what it is and function properly. This view extended to humans, and it was claimed that all humans have a defining function, or an essence (a set of essential properties that make people what they are). These philosophers also asserted that these

essences exist eternally and are unchanging. The understanding surrounding the meaning of human life that followed from this view was that a human being’s purpose in life was determined by their having the essence they did. Over the centuries some philosophers challenged this view, but it was not until the late 1800s and the first half of the twentieth century that philosophers such as

An Analysis of Existentialism Nietzsche and Heidegger became generally known outside philosophy for their challenge to the idea that we have an essence that fixes our life’s purpose. In the mid–twentieth century, Jean-Paul Sartre, the key figure in existentialism, stepped onto the scene and built his overall view on the rejection of essentialism. Sartre’s key claim was that existence precedes essence. His view was that our existence happens first, and then it is up to the individual to create what gives their life meaning; we write our own essence through how we choose to live and the choices that we make.1 Sartre’s existential philosophy revolves around his notion of radical freedom. He believed that humans had a terrifying abundance of freedom; we are the product of the choices that we make. Sartre maintains that individuals always have a choice and those choices always are done freely. Anyone who claims that they do not have a choice is lying to themselves. Radical freedom does not have the same meaning as liberty, which is the absence of constraint in a legal situation. Sartre believed that humans, unlike natural objects, exist in a condition of absolute free will. Unlike natural objects, that have no choices, whose behavior is determined by the laws of physics and can be predicted, nothing other than human choice causes humans to behave the way they do. There is nothing internal or external to the human being determining what choices they should make in contrast 82

to the other things in the world, humans are radically different. This is a core assumption in Sartre’s philosophy, humans are radically free, nothing but themselves determine their choices. A less radical approach to freedom suggests that there are pre-existing principles that govern and limit the determination of a human’s choices. Sartre’s freedom is radical because he doesn’t think there are any principles that we can appeal to beforehand in terms of figuring out what to do.2 But what is the relevance of this notion and what does Sartre really believe that he is doing when he describes radical freedom? He ultimately believes that he is engaging in descriptive ontology. Ontology is about learning what it means to be a certain kind of existence. For example, talking about ontology for a rock, a rock has no free will, changes that happen to a rock happen because it has no free will. Regarding the concepts of essentialism, existentialism, and what gives meaning to human life, many people accept that love provides life’s purpose. Loving relationships are assumed to involve finding another person with whom you can share your life and experiences, while growing together and coming to know yourself with the help of the Other. However, from Sartre’s point of view, love relationships are not like that. Sartre rejects that sort of love (so-called romantic

An Analysis of Existentialism love). He makes the very strong claim that that romantic love is not existentially possible. In the following, I will present Sartre’s reasons for holding this view. To make things interesting, note that his lifepartner and a fellow existentialist philosopher, Simone de Beauvoir, did not agree with Sartre’s view that romantic love was not existentially possible. She claimed that although romantic love was existentially dangerous, it was not impossible.3 How are we to approach this disagreement? We could say that de Beauvoir is not an existentialist unless she agrees with Sartre, but this overlooks that existentialism as a philosophical alternative is larger than Sartre’s version of existentialism. The question is, ought any existentialist agree with Sartre, or with de Beauvoir? For Sartre, absolute radical freedom takes precedence over everything; this means that Sartre treats the concept of radical freedom as a concept that determines the limits and acceptability of every other notion or idea in one’s life. By radical freedom Sartre means: In a romantic relationship, each lover desires to be loved by someone who in turn has freely chosen to love them. Thus it is that the desire to possess that appears in loving another human is a different kind of desire than what occurs when one loves an object. The other can requite love

back unto the person who loves them, objects cannot. Additionally, objects are not radically free, and therefore cannot freely choose to requite love unto another.4 The quote above means they cannot be involved in the kind of romantic love de Beauvoir envisions, because for de Beauvoir, romantic love is a merging of freedoms. A merging of freedoms means that one’s consciousness as a willing agent ceases to be as distinguishable from their significant other. Normally an individual experiences the Other as contrast to themselves in the way of their significant freedom; they see themselves one way and they see the Other as another way. De Beauvoir sees the possibility that a couple defines itself as an entity, so they do not exist as Other for each other. They experience the interest and desires as the Other of their own.5 Sartre disagrees with de Beauvoir’s notion that romantic love is a merging of freedoms. He claims, given that romantic love involves the desire to be loved by someone who in turn has freely chosen to love you, loving is an act that will always result in conflict. He suggests that the lover wants the Other’s love, and needs them to help reveal who they truly are. However, in doing so, they risk reducing their subjective self to an object of the Other’s vision of them:6 I proceed blindly since I am guided only by the abstract and empty form

An Analysis of Existentialism of my object-state for the Other. I can not even conceive what effect my gestures and attitudes will have since they will always be taken up and founded by a freedom which will surpass them and since they can have a meaning only if this freedom confers one to them.7 For an individual to possess radical freedom, this must include the individual having the freedom to change their mind. This includes changing their mind on feelings of love and romance. This poses a problem to the lover who never wants his loved one to stop loving him, which cannot be guaranteed by the loved one at any point in time. Showing no necessity to reliability, one cannot rely on their loved one to continue loving them the next day, because both the lover and the loved one possess radical freedom. We encounter the true ideal of lovesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; enterprise: alienated freedom. But it is the one who wants to be loved who by the mere fact of wanting someone to love him alienates his freedomâ&#x20AC;ŚEach one is alienated only to the exact extent to which he demands the alienation of the other. Each one wants the other to love him but does not take into account the fact that to love is to want to be loved and that thus by wanting the other to love him, he only wants the other to want to be loved in turn.8 Based on these claims, Sartre believes that love is hazardous, resulting in either sadism or masochism. It results in masochism when a lover tries to become 84

what his loved one wants him to be, and in doing so denies his own radical freedom. It results in sadism when the lover treats the loved one as an object, confining them and restraining their actions. Either way, sadism or masochism, oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s radical freedom is compromised when they engage in a romantic relationship; the love becomes a painful struggle rather than a mutual passion.9 Therefore, according to Sartre, authentic romantic love is not a possibility, because it results in the negation of radical freedom, which is the foundation for existentialism.10 Simone de Beauvoir, although a contemporary and close friend of Sartre as well as a philosopher who accepted the view of existentialism, disagrees with Sartre on the topic of romantic love. She understands that romantic relationships can lead to boredom, submission, domination, or possession because relationships provide euphoric experiences, which incite great passion and entice the two lovers to merge together in harmony. However, she claims that authentic love is a possibility that can be achieved. In order to love authentically though, one must overcome the issues of boredom, domination, submission, and possession. In addition to acknowledging and overcoming these issues, the lovers are required to see each other as radically free, equal, autonomous, and in need of cooperation in order to overcome the existential danger of the ever looming inauthentic loving relationship.11

An Analysis of Existentialism De Beauvoir claims that authentic love is not possible when oppression is present, especially for women and their socially constructed roles, requiring them to act on their compulsory functions of femininity; both of the lovers within a relationship must strive for authenticity. Furthermore, de Beauvoir asserts that women have always been ontologically free, but not socially free. They were required to marry, procreate, and define themselves as caretakers in order to survive as members of a social community. Therefore, any woman in this situation is not in a position to love authentically, as she is denying her radical freedom. Additionally, any man who supports this lack of social freedom and encourages his lover to accept their socially constructed roles is essentially promoting their lover’s denial of their own radical freedom, which implicates him into a position in which he is unable to love authentically.12 Authentically meaningful relationships, according to de Beauvoir, require the following: (1) Freedom from oppression for both parties. (2) Recognition of the lover’s freedom and actions that would follow from this recognition. (3) Lovers maintaining themselves as an independent self while simultaneously as the Other. (4) Mutual transcendence (transcending, or going beyond,

limits imposed on them by society in order to achieve their goals). (5) The mutual creation of meaning (creating meaning for each of the lover’s lives together).13 Likewise, de Beauvoir provides criteria that inauthentic relationships contain. These criteria are as follows: (1) idolization of one’s lover, meaning voluntarily subordinating oneself and denying one’s own freedom, which constitutes living in bad faith. (2) Women allowing socially imposed ideals of beauty to guide their choices, also constituting bad faith. When a lover abides by imposed beauty ideals in order to gain attention and affection from their loved one, they are attempting to love inauthentically. Those acting existentially would not let the Other choose what defines them in terms of beauty or attractiveness. (3) Dreaming of unity with one’s partner. The claim, “_____ is my other half,” is not possible and any individual who makes this claim is aware of this impossibility, and is thus acting in bad faith. One cannot be half of another; each person is individual and separate and, even by acknowledging the benefits of others, to claim that another individual completes you is incoherent. (4) The act of devotion is not good, not selfless, and not virtuous, as many lovers who are completely devoted to their loved ones claim.

An Analysis of Existentialism Rather, pledging adoration to another demands something in return and, because of this, cannot be any of those positive attributes. Avowed dedication to another demands something in return, because the devotee deeply desires for their devoted one to fully commit themselves to them in reciprocation. The devotee assumes that by dedicating themselves fully and letting the Other define them, that their lover will fully commit themselves in return, which subsequently allows for the defining of them as well. Therefore, the act of devotion is truly selfish, as de Beauvoir claims, “devotion is a tyrant in disguise.”14 Lovers only devote themselves to their loved ones because they desire for their loved one to, in turn, requite this devotion unto them. In The Second Sex, Beauvoir writes, Authentic love must be founded on reciprocal recognition of two freedoms; each lover would then experience himself as himself and as the other: neither would abdicate is transcendence, they would not mutilate themselves; together they would both reveal values and ends in the world.15 Understanding both Sartre and de Beauvoir’s views on romantic love in conjunction with existentialism raises a question—is it possible to have a mutually loving, non-dominate relationship while living how Sartre wants one to live, authentically and in good faith? According to Sartre, the answer is no; one cannot 86

have a genuine relationship in parallel with the Other. So, if de Beauvoir is truly an existentialist, how can she disagree with Sartre on such a major aspect of authentic living? De Beauvoir disagrees that existentialism implies that romantic relationships are one way. However, it seems as though Sartre would say that de Beauvoir is an existentialist, she just does not fully understand existentialism if she believes that romantic love does not infringe upon one’s radical freedom. Viewing this dilemma strictly from an existentialist perspective, it seems as though Sartre is right. He claims that, regarding the idea of the Other, either the Other dominates or the ego present in the pre-reflective cogito dominates. (By “prereflective cogito” Sartre means the form of self-awareness in which one is conscious of the role of the Other in defining one’s consciousness of what one is.) This view extends to romantic relationships with the Other; either the Other dominates, resulting in masochism, or the prereflective cogito dominates, resulting in sadism.16 It then follows that freedom proves to be compromised whenever one is caught in the gaze of the Other, which is never-ending when in a romantic relationship. For an individual to embrace their radical freedom and live authentically, they cannot simply follow a path that the Other has laid out for them or live in bad faith. Furthermore, if one is living in bad faith, then they are not living as Sartre suggests one ought to do so in

An Analysis of Existentialism Being and Nothingness; they would be living inauthentically, denying their freedom, compromised by the view of the Other.17 This poses the following questions: would the loving Other demand the lover to compromise their radical freedom? Why can’t an existentialist hold that a balance between the lover and the loved one is possible, why must it result in jeopardy of one’s radical freedom? Well, if the lover follows a previously set path, one that was not set by themselves, then they would be refusing to accept the absurdity of the world, disregarding their radical freedom, and thus living in bad faith. Even if the loving Other would not seemingly demand their loved one to compromise their freedom and follow a path that they did not set for themselves, this is often the result of romantic relationships. Although two lovers do not desire to restrict their loved one’s freedom or limit their choices, this frequently occurs because you cannot have two individuals who desire the same thing, at the same time, at every instance in time. Someone will have to give something up for the Other at some point, which could end up compromising their radical freedom, resulting in a life of bad faith. An existentialist does not find a place for a balance between the loved one and the lover because each party’s freedom always is compromised. Consider the example of a lover changing their mind and falling out

of love—this is something their loved one always fears. This fear is compromising. No radically free person can guarantee that they will always love their lover, that they will never leave them or fall out of love with them. Because the loved one always is able to change their mind, their lover will become desperate, treating their loved one as an object and tying them down, resulting in masochism or rebellion, a situation that negates the possibility of authentic love. Furthermore, Sartre supports his conclusion that romantic love is not possible by noting claims that he introduces early on in his philosophy. While focusing on the problematic character of radical freedom, Sartre says that humans are “thrown into existence” and “condemned to be free.” Upon becoming aware of their radical freedom, individuals realize that, in order to live authentically, they must make their choices entirely on their own, free of the influence of the Other. They also realize that they create themselves by the choices that they make. If they deny this radical freedom, they succumb to living in bad faith. At the same time, when an individual acts according to Sartre it is, self-consciously, as if everyone was watching them. This gives rise to their having feelings that they otherwise would not have; feelings of pride, shame, domination, or submission. These experiences prove to be problematic for

An Analysis of Existentialism their living in accord with their radical freedom. To capture what this consciousness of the ever-present Other is like, Sartre describes someone peeping through a keyhole.18 While peeping through a keyhole unobserved, the individual performing the action is absorbed in what they are doing and are in what Sartre calls a “prereflective state.” However, if this individual is caught in the act, they become aware of themself as an object of the Other’s gaze. This gives rise to a feeling of shame for being caught looking through the keyhole, since this is an act that an individual feels is worthy of embarrassment when discovered. Sartre then applies this insight to all selfawareness of our own existence: Contrary to the philosophy of Descartes, or of Kant, when we say “I think,” we each attain ourselves in the presence of the other, and we are just as certain of the other as we are aware of ourselves. Therefore, the man who becomes aware of himself directly in the cogito also perceives all the others, and he does so as the condition of his own existence. He realizes he cannot be anything (in the sense in which we say someone is spiritual, or cruel, or jealous) unless others acknowledge him as such. I cannot discover any truth whatsoever about myself except through the mediation of another. The Other is essential to my existence, as well as to the knowledge I have about myself.19 88

It follows from Sartre’s view of the Other that the awareness of the existence of the Other is necessary for individuals to recognize their own existence and freedom. The Other is ever-present as that which is always there capturing them in its gaze. Sartre asserts that when confronted with the gaze of the Other, one is fearful that they are being objectified, or regarded as an object, and so in turn they regard the Other as a mere object rather than as an experiencing subject like themselves. This further supports Sartre’s claim that ultimately, someone’s existence as beingfor-itself and the ever-present separate existence of the Other, results in either the self or the Other being submissive or dominate.20 Furthermore, as Cooper points out: Becoming apprised of “the Look” is, for Sartre, only the beginning of one’s sense of distinctive selfhood…the rough idea is that being subject to “the Look” is a disturbing experience because, being a free, spontaneous For-itself, I cannot be the mere object—the squatting voyeur at the keyhole—to which “the Look” threatens to reduce me. Hence, by the way of selfdefense, I engage in a “refusal of the Other;” and in the ensuing battle, during which I reaffirm my subjectivity against the other, “I…obtain an explicit self-conscious [through] negation of the Other.” This is the key to Sartre’s unromantic

An Analysis of Existentialism account of sexual relationships…in which each partner struggles to retain the sense of freedom threated by “the Look” or the embrace of the other.21 Thus, no matter what kind of relationship an individual is engaged in with the Other, romantic or otherwise, ultimately sadism or masochism is the result. But this is especially significant with romantic relationships. When someone is deeply involved with the Other, so much so that their loved one’s view of them is always in the back of their mind, imposing on their actions, then the impact of their gaze is heightened, which heightens the phenomenon of submission vs. domination. What explains de Beauvoir’s disagreement with Sartre’s existentialist analysis of romantic love? It likely that she contrasts so greatly with Sartre on his view of romantic love because de Beauvoir’s understanding of the Other in relation to the pre-reflective cogito (pre-reflective self-consciousness) differs so much from Sartre’s understanding of self-awareness. Rather than viewing the Other as necessary for an individual to recognize their own existence and radical freedom, de Beauvoir claims that humans are abandoned in the world together, and although each human is individual and separate, they all share a common ground—the human condition. The human condition, as she understands it, is recognizing one’s radical freedom through recognizing the existentialist doctrine that

existence precedes essence, and that individuals create their life purpose through how they choose to live. Individuals do this by understanding that there is no predetermined purpose for life, by recognizing the absurdity of the world and then by accepting the full weight of their radical freedom, while taking into consideration the concept of the absurd. The existence of the Other thus provides a way in which the being-for-itself can relate to other beings and allows for the discovery of their shared human condition. This, in turn, leads to an authentic appreciation of the Other’s existence and avoids the inauthentic existence of submission or domination claimed by Sartre. Moreover, de Beauvoir asserted that the existence of the Other gives humans possibilities that would otherwise be impossible if the Other did not exist. Through the acknowledgment that the world is shared with the Other, someone is able to recognize that individuals (the prereflective cogito) depend on the Other for their survival, self-definition, and meaning. This view of the Other, which contrasts sharply with Sartre’s view, grounds de Beauvoir’s analysis of authentic love. Sartre’s view of the Other, as the basis for his existentialist understanding of romantic love, puts in jeopardy living authentically in a romantic relationship since, in a romantic relationship, the

An Analysis of Existentialism choice is between sadism or masochism. Because de Beauvoir’s existentialism views the Other quite differently, she develops a very different conception of romantic love. Her view of the Other that so radically alters her philosophical perception of love and the possibility of authentic romantic relationships, either is a misconception of the view of the Other that grounds existentialism, or is a deliberate rejection of this understanding of the role of the Other. Either way, her view rejects the defining relationship between being-for-itself and the Other that Sartre captures in his description of the gaze of the Other. Any view that rejects this understanding of the Other is not the view found in Being and Nothingness, which serves as a paradigm of what counts as an existentialism. Thus, it can be concluded that for explicit existentialism, authentic romantic love is not a possibility, as indulging in romantic love results in living inauthentically due to submission or domination. Existentialism claims that life is a constant struggle between you and the Other over possession of identity. This struggle in turn explains and locates within a larger whole all of the foundational notions that form the basis of existential thought, such as anxiety, shame, guilt, radical freedom, etc. In de Beauvoir’s view of existentialism, romantic love is possible because, rather than struggling between submission and domination with the Other, lovers merge together, forming one 90

identity. But any theory in which this is possible cannot count as genuine existentialism. This can be seen by considering that Sartre’s analysis of the role of the other explains why a lover who forgets their partner’s birthday will feel ashamed. What is felt can only be felt against the gaze of the Other. A self that has merged with the other cannot feel what lovers actually feel, or any of the other emotions Sartre discusses at length. Rejecting the role played by the Other in determining what it means to be a human being is rejecting the core of existentialism. Existentialism argues that because you exist as a human being, not a material object, who you are is a consequence of the conflict created between your ego and the Other by the ongoing attempt of the Other to define you and your resistance to this, and your ongoing attempt to define the Other which the Other resists. De Beauvoir’s claim of lovers merging into each other is inconsistent with this defining aspect of existentialism. De Beauvoir’s view implies that the Other cannot create you and you cannot create yourself because, as the two of you are now merged into one identity, in each case the Other ceases to be the Other. Also, since the ongoing existence of the Other is required for radical freedom, de Beauvoir loses that as well. But radical freedom is the very basis of existentialism. De Beauvoir’s position is thus inconsistent with the core of existentialism.

An Analysis of Existentialism Agreeing with existentialism implies agreement with Sartre’s view of romantic love, as his account of the structure of consciousness made romantic love of the sort de Beauvoir describes impossible. The kind of romantic love that can exist given the existentialist’s account of human being in the world requires that at every moment one member of a romantic couple be either in submission or domination. Because

both are forms of living inauthentically, to indulge in a romantic lover is, for Sartre, to live inauthentically. Agreeing with de Beauvoir’s claim that romantic lovers can live authentically, on the other hand, requires accepting that one does not understand existentialism or that one is not an existentialist, something de Beauvoir insisted she was.

Endnotes 1. Sartre, Jean-Paul, Being and Nothingness: An Essay on Phenomenological Ontology, Translated by Hazel E. Barnes, New York, NY: Philosophical Library, Inc., 1956, chapter 1. 2. Sartre, Being and Nothingness, chapter 2 section D. 3. Beauvoir, Simone De, The Second Sex, Translated by Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevallier, New York, NY: Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., 2011, 347. 4. Grene, Marjorie, Sartre. New York: New Viewpoints, 1973, 266. 5. Grene, Marjorie. Introduction to Existentialism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1963, 72–84. 6. Leak, Andrew N. Perverted Consciousness: Sexuality and Sartre. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press, Inc., 1989, 109–112. 7. Sartre, Being and Nothingness, 373. 8. Ibid, 375. 9. Grene, Marjorie, “Authenticity: An Existential Virtue,” Ethics 62, no. 4 (1952): 266–74, http://www.jstor.org/stable/2378633, 273. 10. Cooper, David E., Existentialism: A Reconstruction, Second ed., Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishers, 2008, 154–157. 11. Cleary, Skye, Existentialism and Romantic Love, New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, 130–139. 12. Hawthorne, Melanie, Contingent Loves: Simone de Beauvoir and Sexuality, Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia, 2000, 118–119. 13. Cleary, Skye, Existentialism and Romantic Love, New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, 132. 14. Ibid, 136. 15. Beauvoir, Simone De, The Second Sex, Translated by Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevallier, New York, NY: Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., 2011, 702. 16. Grene, Marjorie, Sartre. New York: New Viewpoints, 1973, 270. 17. Sartre, Being and Nothingness, 252–257. 18. Sartre, Being and Nothingness, 136 19. Sartre, Jean-Paul. Existentialism is a Humanism- L’ Existentialisme est un Humanisme.,Translated by Carol Macomber, Compiled by Annie Cohen-Solal and Arlette Elkaïm-Sartre, Edited by John Kulka. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007, 41. 20. Sartre, Being and Nothingness, 367. 21. Cooper, Existentialism,105.

An Analysis of Existentialism Bibliography Beauvoir, Simone De, The Second Sex, Translated by Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevallier, New York, NY: Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., 2011. Cleary, Skye. Existentialism and Romantic Love. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015. Cooper, David E. Existentialism: A Reconstruction. Second ed. Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishers, 2008. Grene, Marjorie. “Authenticity: An Existential Virtue.” Ethics 62, no. 4 (1952): 266–74. http://www.jstor.org/stable/2378633. Grene, Marjorie. Introduction to Existentialism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1963. Grene, Marjorie, Sartre. New York: New Viewpoints, 1973. Hawthorne, Melanie. Contingent Loves: Simone de Beauvoir and Sexuality. Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia, 2000. Leak, Andrew N. Perverted Consciousness: Sexuality and Sartre. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press, Inc., 1989. Sartre, Jean-Paul. Being and Nothingness: An Essay on Phenomenological Ontology. Translated by Hazel E. Barnes. New York, NY: Philosophical Library, Inc., 1956. Sartre, Jean-Paul. Existentialism is a Humanism- L’ Existentialisme est un Humanisme.,Translated by Carol Macomber, Compiled by Annie Cohen-Solal and Arlette Elkaïm-Sartre, Edited by John Kulka. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007. Schroeder, William Ralph. Sartre and his Predecessors: The Self and the Other. Boston, MA: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984.