Tag Archives: Salem City Seal

Minority Report

Provocative title, yes? It’s not mine. A very different presentation for me today: a very short post, with no pictures and very little analysis on my part. Basically I just want to offer you a link, to the Minority Report of the two historians appointed to the City Seal Task Force, whose contributions to the Official Report were so butchered and detached from documentation that they felt compelled to compose their own report and submit it to the Salem City Council for its review and consideration of an alteration to Salem’s official city seal since 1839. I’m not sure what’s going to happen here, but we all (including myself—five posts here!) got very swept up in this process. In general, the City Council seems to have a preference for very bland history, which offends no one and affirms some contemporary value, or very commodified history (all witches all the time everywhere), which many people find offensive but is rationalized according to its perceived monetary value, and nothing in between. Very little nuance is permitted, and of course history is all nuance and the City Seal discussion really had a lot of nuance, all of which is presented so well in this Minority Report. And that’s one reason I want to amplify it.

Download Report

The other reason why I wanted to share this report is that it is excellent in general as well as in nuance! It’s a detailed summary of a major sector of Salem’s maritime history during its so-called “golden age,” drawn from both traditional and new studies, with some great insights into cultural history and public history. It features an array of perspectives, from both the past and the present. Even if you’re not into the seal debate (which is understandable–I don’t know how it creeped up on me either) it’s well worth your time.

Now usually I would analyze and annotate this myself, but I said to myself (for once): I have said (written) enough! I certainly would be interested in your comments here, however (particularly because I haven’t had anyone to discuss this with), and I’ll be back with something new next week. I’m not sure when the City Council is going to take this issue up, but I’ll report back when they do.


Facts, Feelings, and Erasure

I really didn’t want to publish any more about the Salem City Seal saga here, but the closing meeting of the Task Force which has recommended its replacement was concerning in so many ways that I simply had to write about it (it was keeping me up at night). For those that haven’t followed this issue and are (really) interested, previous posts are here and here and here. I am going to write about the discourse and deliberations in this last meeting, but I’m not going to use names. I don’t see any need to get personal beyond public statements, but you can watch all of the recorded zoom meetings (which get very personal), including the November 1oth one, here. A very brief summary before I get into it. In the spring of 2024, several Salem residents, most of whom seem to be members of the North Shore Asian American and Pacific Islanders Coalition, expressed their opposition to the Salem City Seal, which features a depiction of a native of the Aceh province of Sumatra, a pepper plant, and an arriving ship, all of which represent the lucrative and impactful pepper trade which dominated Salem’s economy and society (and culture) in the first half of the nineteenth century and left a lasting imprint. The seal was adopted in 1839, and its central image was redesigned by Salem artist Ross Turner in the 1880s to represent a more general Asian figure, with the ship and pepper plant remaining. Those opposed to the seal perceived its central depiction as an offensive cartoonish character, and called for its replacement. The City’s Race Equity Commission voted to do just that, without consulting the residents of Salem in any way, but the Mayor and City Council recommended the appointment of a deliberative body to conduct historial research, gauge public opinion, and make a recommentation. And so the City Seal Task Force first met in March of this year, ostensibly for a period of 18 months, with members appointed from the Race Equity Commission and the Salem Cultural Council, two “credentialed” historians, and other mayoral appointees. By October they had concluded their business with a recommendation to replace the seal and since then they’ve been dealing with the cumbersome business of assembling their final report. The meeting on November 10th was the last meeting of the Task Force, and on the agenda was the approval of this report, which was created by the submission of individual sections by task force members and a editorial process to create a “unified” voice.

Paintings of the original seal and Ross Turner replacement, and the current seal. The former are in the public drive of the Task Force, where you can find presentations and other materials. I had never seen the original seal before.

The dynamic in this meeting was led largely by four people, the two designated historians and the editors of the draft final report.For reasons that were unclear to me, the charge to those writing sections of this report was to keep it short, very short: a page or two. This mandate was explained in the meeting by the two editors, who are the Chair and Vice Chair of the Task Force: attention spans. Anyone reading this report would have a short attention span. Since this report will be sent to the City Council for final approval I thought this was a little insulting to its members, and pretty condescending to the Salem public at large. Anyway, that was the charge and everyone obeyed, but the two historians had asked that citations be included in the report and excluded from the draconian word limitations since documentation is a requisite part of any historical analysis. Apparently that request was agreed upon, but the draft report has no citations: as the editors explained, they had included a bibliography which, in their view, was a sufficient replacement for footnotes. Now I am sure everyone reading this can understand the difference between footnotes and a bibliography. As I am typing this, I am taking a break (although I don’t really need one, as they are very good!) from a stack of rough drafts my students have submitted in our capstone seminar course, and I can assure you that these history students are documenting their assertions. What you have in the report are assertions without documentation, which to me looks like a device to render them mere opinion. Since there is a very stark contrast between the non-historical sections, in which the seal is presented in the company of strident images of nineteenth-century Orientalism and twentieth-century popular culture, and the historical sections which lay out the vastness of of the pepper trade and its impact in a more documentary manner, it’s almost impossible to discern between feelings and fact when you read this report unless you are independently knowledgeable about any of the information presented “in evidence.”

I’m going to let James Lindgren move my “story” along while demonstrating the use of a footnote, but I should say that the historians on the Task Force were trying to source and document primary sources as well as interpretive texts.

There was a lot of back and forth on this issue, and the citations are somehow going to be made public, but I don’t think they are going back in the text, because that would make it far too long for all those readers with short attention spans. But a larger issue loomed over all of this discussion, introduced at the beginning and never resolved. One of the historians asserted that his entire section had been rewritten by the editors, with the exception of one dangling (citation-less) quote!  Neither of the editors appeared to assume responsibility for this, and so the charge kept coming back, politely but assertively, with the final observation that the rewrite was so awkward that it must have been the work of ChatGPT. Immediately after this serious concern was raised, another task force member commented that the historians in the group were trying to dominate not only the discussion, but the report, with their voices—-immediately after her colleague declared that he had lost his! This exchange made everything so crystal clear to me: I had never seen erasure so up close and personal before. Generally historical erasure is about omission, or so I thought, but this seems much more pro-active. As soon as voices from Aceh, the people actually represented on the seal, spoke in its favor, they were diminished and dismissed. Salem’s long-running pepper trade was reduced to the Battle of Quallah-Battoo (Kuala Batu), a retaliatory attack by the US Navy on the Malays who had seized the ship Friendship and killed three of of her crew in 1831, an obvious overreaction which was questioned and even condemned up and down the eastern seaboard. A half-century of maritime history, with major reverbations on both sides of the world, reduced to one action, and attempts to introduce historical context rewritten, literally. Indeed, it seemed to me that the majority of the City Seal Task Force was intent on erasing not only Salem’s history, but the discipline of history itself.

200th Anniversary of PEM’s East India Hall this very year! At the dedication dinner in October of 1825, President John Quincy Adams gave a toast to Salem’s trade with the East Indies: No commercial nation has been great without it, may the experience of ages induce us to cherish this rich source of national wealth.

 


“A Country by Itself”

A mayoral task force commission has been meeting for the past few months, called to contextualize charges that Salem’s City Seal is demeaning to Asian Americans and explicity rascist. The image in question depicts an apparent native of Sumatra’s westernmost province of Aceh in the foreground, with a pepper plant alongside and (an apparent) Salem ship in the background: a rare 19th century acknowledgement that a western society’s (Salem) prosperity was tied to its trade with the East. I posted about this issue back in the fall of last year, when my stance was generally supportive of the 1839 seal but open to a community dialogue. I’m doing so again because I’ve watched (there is no other way to “participate” besides a form you can send in) four of the Task Force’s meetings and after looking at images of the Sumatran figure presented alongside Sambo images as “proof” of racism and hearing an assertion that the seal is the equivalent of the Confederate flag I am convinced that this is not a serious inquiry. The Task Force has scheduled a listening session for July 14 and one member who is a Salem native and expert in Indonesia’s history and culture has yet to make an appearance so perhaps things will get a bit more substantive but I don’t have high hopes at this point. That a tradition of such longstanding should be given such short shrift is unfortunate—actually more than unfortunate, unsettling.

Salem’s City Seal was adopted as the insignia of the City in March 1839, and it was a rather “flexible” image for the next fifty years or so: the central figure even changed from a man to a woman!  In 1888, artist Ross Turner was commissed to paint the orginal seal (bottom left) and it was pretty much standardized after that. For the 1926 Tercentenary of the founding of Salem, the City produced Seal medals (bottom right). There has been no attempt by the Task Force as of yet to place this image—or its evolution—in any historical context; the assumption seems to be that the existence of an 1839 rendering of an Acehnese Native is without question objectionable and the best way to modify the Seal is simply to remove said Native and have a lovely Sumatran scene sans person. The City motto, “Divitis Indiae usque ad ultimum sinum” – “To the farthest port of the rich East” – never changed and doesn’t appear to bother the Task Commission. It has inspired a number of artistic creations: the piece below is quilted fabric but I’ve seen the same in tile and as a painting and print.

I really don’t want to watch these meetings anymore.; I come away from them feeling quite sad. I know why Salem people are troubled by the prospect of an altered seal because I’ve heard from some: for some civic service or upon retirement fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters received a seal from the Mayor of the moment as a photograph was taken and a memory made. It’s not so personal for me, but I do have a somewhat-related memory from around the time I first moved to Salem. I was still in graduate school, working on my dissertation, and I used the purchase of my first house and the move as a rationale to procrastinate as much as possible from working on it: I had four new (old) fireplaces and suddenly it was really important to deck them out with andirons and everything—even though it was June! So I drove around the North Shore, poking around every antique shop that I came upon. In Essex (most definitely the antique capital of the North Shore) I got into a really nice discussion with a man who told me (I’m paraphrasing from memory here) that in its heyday Salem was so prosperous and Salem ships so numerous that all of its trading partners in the East Indies thought it was “a country unto itself.” To them, Salem was the United States or the United States was Salem. I was looking at maps in his shop (because of course I had to have antique maps all over my new walls) and he said something like—and there’s a map somewhere, with Salem depicted as the United States. Well, for the next decade or so, I was looking for that map. I thought it would look something like this:

Well maybe a less strident SALEM but you get the point. Of course I never found this map, because it never existed! Once I started reading about Salem history (which was pretty much when I started this blog) I soon realized that my antique dealer had it wrong or I had it wrong: but the perception behind the nonexistent map was very, very real. It is expressed generally in all the maritime histories of the nineteenth century, as well as texts that probe the cultural history of America’s encounters with the East. Samuel Eliot Morison gives the most detailed description in his Maritime History of Massachusetts: While Boston ships followed Magellan westward around the Horn, Salem sent her vessels eastward to the Dutch East Indies, Manila, both coasts of Africa and the smaller islands of the Pacific, and so thoroughly did they pre-empt this trade that as late as 1833 Po Adam, the wealthiest merchant of Quallah Battoo ‘‘believed Salem to be a country by itself, and one of the richest and most important sections of the globe.” I’m not sure Po Adam was the wealthiest merchant of Quallah Battoo (Kuala Batu), the major pepper port in Aceh, but he was a well-known friend of the American traders who disembarked there, warning Captain Charles Endicott of the impending attack on his ship Friendship in 1831 which resulted in the retaliatory attack by the U.S. Naval Frigate Potomac in the following year. In his account, Endicott called him “my old and tried friend” and captains for the ships owned in part or whole by Salem’s largest pepper trader, Joseph Peabody, expressed the same sentiments. Trade is always about human relationships, for better or for worse, and I think that’s why Joseph Peabody’s son George, the Salem alderman who is universally credited with the conception and depiction of the Salem Seal in 1839, placed a person in the center of it. And when that figure is stripped from Salem’s seal, inevitably it seems at this point, all we will have left is a commodity (like a Witch here in the Witch City).

Drawing of Po Adam from James Duncan Phillips, Pepper and Pirates, 1949; George Peabody by John Singer Sargent, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. 


History is Gray

For the past month or so, I’ve been considering the case of the Salem City Seal and various reactions to it. In the past, before last month, I’ve probably thought about the seal for 5 minutes; over the last month, I’ve been thinking about it for many hours—too many, certainly. If you haven’t read my previous posts, here is what happened, succinctly: several members of the Salem community complained that the seal, with its depiction of a Sumatran man, pepper plants, and Salem ship, was stereoptypical and insulting to Asian-Americans. Their condern and complaint was brought to the city’s Race Equity Commission, which had deliberations over the summer and concluded that “damage had been done” and the seal should be redesigned. The Race Equity Commission reported this finding to a subcommittee of the Salem City Council which concurred (I think), but somewhere in the process someone stepped in and suggested a public task force to add some transparency and public comment to what had heretofore been quite a closed process—I think at best 40 people knew that our circa 1839 seal was deemed suspect in a city of over 40,000.  And this is what the City Council finally voted on: the creation of a task force which will sit for 18 months and hear public testimony and garner historical perspectives. So that’s where we are and I think that’s a good place, in theory. In practice, I have my concerns, because I’m just not sure those in positions of authority have the capacity to grasp historical perspectives, frankly. In the Salem of my experience, every single public history issue has been black and white, villains vs. heroes, the powerful and the powerless, with an overcast of green, for money. Nothing is nuanced, multi-causal, two-dimensional, or gray, and that’s a problem, because most of history is gray. Salem has been without a professional historical society for a long time, and it shows.

 

Salem Stereotypes: Seal and Patch

My first concern about how this whole process will play out relates to stereotypes. The original accusation against the seal was that it represents a generic “oriental” stereotype. I can understand that, at face value. But before I gave the seal much thought, I always thought it was really cool for its cosmopolitan character, depicting a ship over there rather than in Salem Harbor. So I sent a note to our city councillors asking them to consider the very global nature of this very early civic symbol. About half wrote back, all but one branding the seal’s figure a stereotype. This got my dander up as it indicated a general closed-mindedness before we had even delved into the matter, and of course I couldn’t help but think about the certain stereotype which is everywhere in the Witch City. Wasn’t this a hypocritical position on the part of our Councilors, given that there is a crone-like character with a pointy hat riding on a broomstick on all of our police cars? And you know, people died who were not witches. (Edit: a city councillor informed that the City Council does not approve “mascots,” only the seal, so the omnipresent witch is not under their jurisdiction—I have to say that it’s not particularly uplifting to know that the Salem schools would choose the witch as their “mascot”).  No matter—there’s really no questioning this particular stereotype, and no constituency for its removal. The historical record regarding the intended depiction of the city seal’s character is pretty clear: he was supposed to be from the specific part of Sumatra (Aceh) which grew the pepper which was so sought after by Salem ship captains and merchants. He did look vaguely Asian to me except for the hat—the hat was a little different and a little distinctive and I thought I had seen it before. And then I remembered: Theodor de Bry, a Dutch engraver and publisher who specialized in depicting and disseminating images of “new” people as Europe intensified its voyages of expansion and conquest in the early modern era. Below is a 1599 engraving by de Bry’s son, and an image from nearly three centuries later of a group of Aceh men during the brutal Aceh War with the Dutch. Same hat, right? But again, it doesn’t matter:even if Salem’s seal features a unique provincial figure and not a general stereotype, if people label it as the latter it becomes one. There’s only so much history can do.

J.T. de Bry, Inhabitants of Sumatra, 1599, Bartele Gallery; Aceh envoys seeking British support against the Dutch in the Aceh War, 1873, Bridgman Images.

 

The “enormous condescension of posterity”.

George Peabody, Salem alderman and son of Joseph Peabody, one of the city’s wealthiest merchants, chaired the committee that designed the seal following the adoption of a new city charter in 1836. As a Sumatra trader himself, Peabody had familiarity with Aceh and its people, but again, I’m not sure this really matters. As expressed by public opinion, it seems to me that those for a complete redesign of the seal and against are rather equally divided, but last week a long column was published in the Salem News which condemned support of the Sumatran image as “toxic nostalgia.” It’s a well-written piece, so it commanded my attention, as did its almost-complete ahistorical argument: it’s an excellent example of labor historian E.P. Thompson’s famous quote, “the enormous condescention of posterity.” According to the author, “regardless of what the seal was meant to celebrate, it must be acknowledged that George Peabody was a product of his times and that the seal he designed reflects a lot of the imagery that came to be associated with western notions of superiority over eastern peoples.” Coincidental with the adoption of the seal in 1839 was the beginning of the shameful Opium Wars instigated by Great Britain upon a weak China, and as “some American merchants (including no doubt some from Salem) did engage in the Opium Trade and benefitted from the British actions in China” we should reject the seal on the basis of this connection? Are we also to reject the East Asian collections of the Peabody Essex Museum, all the Federal Salem houses built with fortunes made by pepper and spices, and the navigational expertise of Nathaniel Bowditch, whose miraculous return from Sumatra in 1803 made The New Practical American Navigator authoritative? Are we to reject anybody who had anything to say in 1839 and just wallow around in the progressive present? If so, it’s going to be a bit difficult to learn from the past. George Peabody’s time seems far less toxic to me than later in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, when the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and its extensions unleashed a cascade of anti-Asian vitriol in the United States, and we should all note that one of Salem’s most famous native sons, Joseph Hodge Choate, argued against the Act before the Supreme Court in 1893.

 

 

History is not cherry-picking.

Proponents of the seal tend to talk about “history-erasing” and its critics focus overwhelmingly on the violence which characterized the trade with Sumatra, which led to two US interventions after American ships were attacked by Malay pirates. Indeed, it’s not a pretty picture, but history seldom is. It is certainly not true that it was a one-way trade imposed upon the Acehnese: American ships brought a lot of silver over there. I’ve been reading as much scholarship as possible since this seal business began, and last week Anthony Guidone, an assistant professor at Radford University in Virginia, forwarded me his dissertion, “The Empire’s City: a Global History of Salem, Massachusetts, 1783-1820” (George Mason, 2023). It’s a detailed interdisciplinary study: I hope it gets published soon so everyone can read it. Guidone gives us the complete picture of Salem’s first global age: the black and the white, and lots of gray. Trade with Asia brought great wealth to Salem but also intensified its connections with slavery and the plantation economy in the Caribbean. But at the same time, it also benefitted a much wider slice of Salem’s population than I had realized, including African Americans and women, and facilitated the creation of a diverse community of sailors (he makes great use of the Salem Crew Lists 1799-1879 at the Mystic Seaport Museum, a great resource). In summary, Salem’s trade with Asia impacted “nearly all aspects of life in the town, changing Salem’s economy, politics, race relations, material culture, civic identity, and historical memory.” Whew! Even though the dissertation ends in 1820, Guidone expands it a bit further to discuss Salem’s anniversary moments in the next decades and the adoption of the city seal. He sees the commemorative focus on commerce by newish institutions such as the East India Marine Society and the Essex Historical Society as evidence of the desire to “construct a narrative that posed an alternative to the town’s witch-hunting past” even as (or because of ???) encroaching commercial decline. I agree completely: members of these institutions tended to identify the witch trials as a “stain” rather than an opportunity and waved no witch flags. How backward they were!

I’ve got to admit, Paul Revere’s first Massachusetts seal from 1775 is my favorite, even though its central figure cuts a rather simplistic figure.