By Nikita Lamba*

W.E.B. Du Bois’s Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil is an all-encompassing text–part autobiography, part history, part poetry, and part political and economic theory. It dissects questions of race, class, gender, art, language, and pedagogy from the perspective of one who has “been in the world, but not of it,” as Du Bois puts it, speaking as a Black American man. (ix)[1] Through a series of essays, stories, and poems, Darkwater lays bare the ways in which various systems and oppressive forces intersect to form the complex web of American culture and democracy.

In the Credo of the work, and throughout the text, Du Bois highlights the ultimate goal of his work: the “possibility of infinite development.” (1)  Du Bois consistently comes back to the goals of “develop[ing] human souls; to make all intelligent; to discover special talents and genius.” (122)  The goal of directing individual action through governmental rule is to achieve “the greatest good of all” as its end.  (78)  Significantly, Du Bois’s conception of freedom goes beyond the right to vote and to space, but also includes the right to “sunshine,” riding freely on railroads, and the right to “thinking, dreaming, working as they will in a kingdom of beauty and love.” (2)

It was likely his early sense of belonging and confidence that contributed to the flourishing and creativity of Du Bois’s thought: his Credo is not one of mere survival but one of a radical re-envisioning of an ideal world in which humanity is joyfully thriving in equality along race, class, gender, and national lines.  Though he was made aware of his racial difference as a young person, he subverted this alienation and felt “not so much disowned and rejected as rather drawn up into higher spaces and made part of a mightier mission.”  (7) He also writes of the benefits of being at Fisk in the South, where he was among his people who came dancing and laughing, and who “knew and understood” and shared “subtle sympathy.” (8)  Perhaps due to his cis-maleness and his apparent heterosexuality, this sense of belonging and finding community was easier for Du Bois than for some other writers on race.  Audre Lorde, who also wrote about idealized worlds and belonging, did so in less expansive and reclamatory terms, perhaps constrained by her lesser sense of belonging and entitlement.  Some of Du Bois’s ideas are almost startlingly progressive given the era in which they were written, especially his writings on expanding the vote to women, and his writings on the contribution of Black women specifically.

In “The Souls of White Folk,” Du Bois dives more deeply into the metaphor of the veil and elaborates on the unique vantage point he has into Whiteness from his nexus as a Black man in the ivory tower.  He speaks in particular of the faux benevolence that masks the “vindictive joy” that white Americans feel at the thought of oppression of Black folks.  (19)  He also highlights a central problem he sees with the world of white men: a refusal to look at the world clearly or to acknowledge “human frailty” and “shortcomings.” (20-21) For Du Bois, this arrogance hinders the greater project of “infinite development,” and he felt that the maximum advancement of humankind would only come if the world of white men would abandon its dreams of “future kingdoms of greed built on black and brown and yellow slavery.” (33)

More than simply calling on white men to recognize the benefits of including people of color in the decision-making processes that shape the culture and nation, Du Bois also advocated for decisive, aggressive action on the part of the oppressed, calling for those of darker blood to “organize [their] world for war against Europe” if the racist attitudes of those in power persisted.  (34)  Du Bois’s theory, here, seems to echo the “right to revolution” implied in James Madison’s writings.  In the tradition of natural rights theorists, it was understood that in the case of a governmental body that derives its legitimate power from the consent of the people, the people have the right (even the duty) to replace it when it betrays its obligations.  In Du Bois’s formulation, one could say that humankind is inherently connected in pursuit of the same goal of advancement and betterment for all, and any faction of humankind that hinders this (through oppression, colonialism, or disenfranchisement) can justifably be countered in order to move humanity forward.

In “The Hands of Ethiopia,” Du Bois writes that the “real Pacifist will seek to organize, not simply the masses in white nations…but will remember that no permanent relief can come but by including in this organization the lowest and the most exploited races in the word.”  (35)  The thrust of this idea, that peace can only be achieved by including all nations in organization, also has a significant implication: if long term peace can only be achieved by organizing to include all nations, then violence and rebellion in the short-term can be justified to some degree if it is in service of coercing those with power to extend it to “the lowest and most exploited.”  (Id.) Thus Du Bois’s “war against Europe” is justified as a pursuit of peace, rather than violence, in the same way that a Madisonian may argue that resistance to a disloyal government would not be illegal, since a government not loyal to those from whom it derives its authority has, in fact, lost its authority through that infidelity.

Du Bois and Madison shared several concerns––unsurprising since both were deeply interested in how to create the ultimate democracy.  Both addressed hesitations about the scope of a republic and the size of its representative body, with Du Bois noting that politics needs to “touch the matters of daily life” and that public officials need to be chosen in a way that they can “run railways, cotton mills, and department stores.” (87).  In Public Opinion and Federalist Number 10, Madison also contemplates the number of citizens and the “sphere of the country” which should be covered in the ideal republic.  Both also considered how unequal distribution of property factored in to the functioning of the democracy, with Madison noting in Federalist Number 10 that “the most common and durable source of faction has been the various and unequal distribution of property,” and Du Bois discussing at length the looming need to “repudiate all private property” and to redistribute to allow for “darker peoples” to “share in the future industrial democracy or overturn the world.” (57-58)

Du Bois’s writing, however, though rooted in several foundationally American principles, went far beyond the beliefs of the Founding Fathers.  Several essays espoused overtly feminist viewpoints.  In “Of the Ruling of Men,” which discusses the expansion of suffrage, Du Bois highlights in particular the need to include the wisdom in “the knowledge possessed by mothers, wives, and daughters.” (83).  “The Damnation of Women,” focuses on the contributions and vitality of Black women in particular , and acknowledges the difficulties that Black women face as a result of their intersectional identities.  His (seemingly very modern) feminism examines the toll that emotional labor takes, in a discussion of the dynamics between waiters and diners in a restaurant.  (64-65) Du Bois also advocates for the recognition of domestic and care workers, and of moving toward “a world of Service without Servants” (67; 69)  Though these latter two examples do not specifically dwell on women workers, the care worker industry is notoriously female-driven, and emotional labor has been recognized, at least in the modern context, as being more burdensome for women in particular.

Du Bois goes on to discuss education in “The Immortal Child,” one of his strongest essays in the work, which examines the inequities in the education system and the ways in which reforming thought and practice around education could potentially provide a solution to the deeply divided and warring world.  He argues that whole generations can “be trained and guided” out of oppressive systems by using education to lift “all genius, talent, and intelligence to serve all the world.”  (127)

While Du Bois’s text is revelatory and also quite beautiful to read, two aspects of the work give pause.  One is that much is made, especially in “Of Work and Wealth,” of the valuable productivity and potential capital of the Black worker, and in other sections Black folks are celebrated for their specific talents and achievements.  While this celebration is certainly not problematic in itself, there is the question of whether centering an argument for rights and liberation on the Black body as a source of productivity or capital is, in some ways, dangerous.  There seems to be a potentially dehumanizing effect in recognizing the worth of humans for their achievements and contributions, and as primarily economic actors rather than as beings in themselves.  This characterization is not consistent throughout the text, but does seem potentially problematic in certain areas.

The second aspect, which is potentially more layered, is the way that women are described in the work.  Women who are named are often described by their physical attributes first, and this leads to the question of whether this approach undermines his arguments, which are in favor of women having “a life work and economic independence,” “knowledge,” and “the right of motherhood at her own discretion.” (96)  “Emma” is described as “– slim, straight, and dainty” (95); Harriet Tubman as “a black woman of medium size, smiling countenance, with her upper front teeth gone” (102); Mary Shadd as “tall and slim, of that ravishing dream-born beauty” (103).  Interestingly, Du Bois notes later in the same essay that “When in this world a man comes forward with a thought…we ask not, how does he look, – but what is his message?” (106)  He does go on to discuss the exclusionary white beauty standard, which disadvantages and dehumanizes Black women–this suggests that perhaps his insistence on recognizing each women’s physical attributes was in tribute to their historically unrecognized beauty.

This is all to say that inherent in all of Du Bois’s writing is the importance of words and language.  His facility with language is part of what makes the work so effective and moving, and his use of interspersed poetry and stories illustrates in more fantastical detail the theoretical concepts that Du Bois works with, and leaves an impression on the mind.  He acknowledges the great active power of words as well, and addresses the harm of slurs and of non-recognition in language as well as the agency that language and education can confer.  This richness of writing, along with the complexity and nuance of the concepts he engages with, is why Du Bois’s text deserves close and careful reading, and why his ideas and tactics resonate so strongly even a century later.

Notes

* J.D. ’20 Columbia Law School; B.A. Critical Studies, USC School of Cinematic Arts

[1] All citations from: Du Bois, W.E.B. Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil. Dover Publications, 1999.