In 1881, African American educator and political leader Booker T. Washington founded Tuskegee Institute in Tuskegee, Alabama. The school's mission was to provide practical education and vocational training in fields such as agriculture and mechanics to African Americans in the post-Reconstruction South. Tuskegee ultimately became a world-renowned agricultural and industrial school for African Americans – and actually for all people. Today, we're speaking with Duke University's Jarvis McInnis about his award-winning book Afterlives of the Plantation: Plotting Agrarian Futures in the Global Black South.

Interview Transcript

Jarvis, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this book. And hopefully we'll make a link to the Franklin Humanities gathering (https://youtu.be/rfSy1lWWOwA?si=dVcWH3xDBuBStEEc) that we had for your book launch. As I said at that time, and I'll say it right now, this book resonated with me so deeply because of my rural upbringing. My experience as a son, a grandson of farmers and agricultural workers. And someone who grew up in the 4-H Club down South. Hopefully we will get to some of those topics as we go through. So, let's start off with a real basic idea. Could you give our readers an overview of what the book is? And also, about what you mean by the Afterlives of the Plantation.

Yes, absolutely. Thank you so much for that question, Norbert. The book is an effort to think about the cultural and intellectual and political ties between Southern African Americans and Afro-Caribbean people in the late 19th to early 20th Century as they were responding to the legacies of slavery, right? This is the period after emancipation, and across the hemisphere. And so, I'm really interested in the way that they are sharing ideas as they are confronting the new modes of racial oppression that emerged in slavery's aftermath. In the United States, you have Jim Crow, right? Segregation, and other forms of violence and dispossession like lynching and land dispossession and so forth and so on. And then in the Caribbean, in Latin America, you have institutions like the European colonialism, and US imperialism, right? And so that is the afterlife of slavery. They're emancipated, but it's not a period of full citizenship, right? Of full access to the rights and privileges of citizenship. And so in telling that story, I center Booker T. Washington's school, the Tuskegee Institute, which was founded on the site of an abandoned and burned cotton plantation in Alabama in 1881.

And this is getting at the second part of your question. I became really fascinated by what it meant to establish a school, to establish a future-oriented institution, that's committed to uplifting Black people. To establish that on the site, on the ruins of a burned plantation. And, in some ways, I became curious about that as an undergraduate student because I'm a graduate of Tougaloo College, in Tougaloo, Mississippi, which is a historically black college much like Tuskegee. And much like Tuskegee, Tougaloo was also founded on the site of a former cotton plantation.

And I saw that this idea, or this practice, this logic of transforming these sites of violence into something that is more liberatory and more emancipatory was really a strategy that Black people used throughout the US South and throughout the Caribbean. Throughout much of the Americas where slavery and the plantation had existed. I placed Tuskegee, and particularly its approach to agriculture, at the center of that story to demonstrate how an institution rooted in the US South is not backward. It's not pre-modern. That's firmly rural, but that rurality... they're taking the knowledge that's cultivated there and disseminating it to other Black people in other parts of the world to aid in their struggles toward freedom and citizenship.

I think this is an important point to make. And I know we've had conversations about this as you were developing the book. And I'll just say again, out of my rural Southern agricultural background, I often found a sense that people thought, oh, well you must be backward. Oh, you must come from this... and that's not a good thing. I can only imagine that people of this time must have thought, well, shouldn't people want to move away from agriculture? Why would you want to be invested in this thing that was a part of former enslavement? How do you think about this in light of this notion of agrarian futures? You would think people would want to move away from that. What is your understanding of sort of this move towards agriculture and seeing this as something for the future and even modern.

That's such a great question. And I, you know, I have to say that I came to agriculture relatively late in the project. I was initially most interested in what Tuskegee was doing with Black aesthetics: with photography and with music and with literature. I'm a literary scholar after all. But as I sat with Tuskegee's aesthetic output, I realized the significance of agriculture within that. And as I began to explore the ways that Tuskegee was being disseminated to other parts of the Black world, to places like Haiti, to places like Puerto Rico. And as they were admitting students from those particular colonies at that time. Now some of them are countries; Puerto Rico is still a territory. But I realized that what other Black people, both in the US South and abroad, were interested in was its agrarian vision. Was the work, the research that someone like George Washington Carver was doing at Tuskegee and as a mode of self-help. And so I really had to wrestle with that because it was outside of how I had conceived of agriculture. And in many ways, writing this book transformed my own understanding of what the modern was. And, you know, forced me to, or perhaps invited me, to think about agriculture to understand it as intellectual. To understand it certainly as a skill, in all of these ways that I had not really given much thought to it previously. But as I sat with George Washington Carver's bulletins. As I sat with Tuskegee's extension initiatives. As I sat with the knowledge that they were producing, the various print cultural artifacts, the newspapers. And again, the agricultural bulletins and so forth and so on. I realized, wait a minute. This is a site of knowledge production, and its modern up-to-date knowledge production that actually still has a lot of sound basis that can be used in contemporary agriculture to this very day. And so, it radically transformed my understanding of Tuskegee, of a figure like Booker T. Washington. who as we know, is a much-maligned figure in Black studies and American studies because of his conservative politics. But agriculture gave me another way into that institution and to think about, again, the significance of the cultural and intellectual contributions of the US South at this particular period.

Thank you for that. I want to talk about a particular section of the text that has to do with both the agricultural philosophy, but also this idea of sharing information, and you've made some reference to it. So, I grew up, as I mentioned, going and being a part of the 4-H program, which was a part of the Cooperative Extension System. And Tuskegee, in many ways, helped form and helped inform what extension would look like. Which ultimately became a thing, federally, in 1914. But I want to read this one passage from your text, and you say:

"In 1897, the state of Alabama passed legislation allocating $1,500 to establish an agricultural experiment station on campus. The station also known as the Experiment Plot."

And plot is something you come back to. And I would love to hear your thoughts about this garden plot and the Experiment Plot and just the metaphor of plot throughout your text.

"But the station also known as the Experiment Plot, was managed by George Washington Carver. Washington insisted that the experiment station ' should not be used for scientific experiments of interest only to experts. Should deal with the fundamental problems with which the Negro Farmers of Alabama were daily confronted.' The results of Carver's experiments were thus published in bulletins that were then distributed among farmers throughout Alabama and the broader US South."

And then you go on and talking about the different courses that were made available. But I wanna get this one quote from the Tuskegee student. And you said the Tuskegee student observed: 'Tuskegee Institute is primarily a school for the masses of our people. Both old and young and in all degrees of development.'

I mean, Tuskegee was doing something that other land grant institutions would eventually take on, is this idea of sharing knowledge and using this. As a means of uplift and I would say even citizen building. What are your thoughts about that sort of perspective?

Yeah. Yeah. I'm going to try to wrap all of those questions up into one response. We'll see how successful I am.

I know I gave you a lot.

Well, one of the things that I wanted to say, that I did not get a chance to say in my response to your previous question is that, you know, the majority of African Americans lived in the South in this particular period. And many of them viewed agriculture as a viable future. And that was one of the aspects of, you know, doing research on this book that was transformative for me. Was understanding that they did not hold this same necessarily, sort of, denigrating attitudes toward agriculture. In part because the United States was largely agricultural writ large, right? ...