Another incorrect assumption, among a litany of errors, made by Professor Anderson is that the term was a permanent depiction or formula for slavery in American life. In reality, Calhoun is responding to a particular sect of Abolitionists who possess, he argues, “a systematic design of rendering us hateful in the eyes of the world, with a view to a general crusade against us and our institutions.” In demonstrating the radical nature of the assault on the South and Southern institutions, Calhoun exposed the central tenets of a new Abolitionist movement that had emerged as well as the potential destabilizing influence of such movements on the political order. In other words, as the eminent historian Clyde Wilson observes, Calhoun’s “Remarks” speech was “not launching some great innovation in the Southern attitude toward slavery because most of what he had to say was already a well-developed part of American discourse.”
Ill-timed and ill-chosen, the words gave copious amounts of political ammunition to his enemies ever since. Nonetheless, the statement for Calhoun and his Senate supporters was a statement of fact concerning the relative position of Southern slavery in a global perspective. It was not a political doctrine but an effort to separate the actual function of slavery from the symbolic litmus test issue it had become in Antebellum politics. While seemingly unsuccessful, Calhoun reflected a broader desire across the South and other regions of the United States to de-politicize serious social issues in the wake of what they perceived to be rising radicalism of American politics. It was not merely slavery as an institution that they wished to devolve and “spread out.”Other divisive issues like internal improvements, banking reform, taxation, even national military service might cease corroding national politics and fueling partisan anger if relegated to states, regions, and localities. Calling slavery a “positive good” was part of a strategy to remove it from national politics, where—Calhoun often argued—no genuine political solution could emerge. Why? Because for Calhoun the breadth and scope of Antebellum politics had long since become too diverse for genuine political consensus. Not every issue was like this. Some things could be solved through national politics because consensus or near-consensus could be reached. Other things, like taxation of international trade, had to be solved through federal action. But the vast array of political issues affecting Congress went beyond the pale of lasting agreement and thus should be relegated to the states, where consensus might still be reached.For Calhoun, the need to “de-politicize” was intricately joined with the need to “de-nationalize.” This is why Calhoun’s approach to those issues that troubled him most reflected complicated variations of the same strategy. Whether it was monetary reform, internal improvements, or filling the officer ranks of the United States military, Calhoun’s strategy was to remove these matters from the ill-suited realm of national political solutions. For without the possibility of genuine consensus on these matters, there was only room for hyper-sensitivity, bad feelings, partisan pandering, and occasional, self-righteous rage. While Professor Anderson’s ideological rigidity does not allow for the search for truth, other Americans will be more discerning about the legacy of Calhoun.