Cynthia Weber presents a stimulating new study of how Americans construct their identity and the moral values that inform their foreign policy. She details how films released between 9/11 and Gulf War II reflect raging debates about US foreign policy and fundamental debates about what it means to be an American.

Presents stories written by authors of diverse cultural backgrounds, including Alice Walker, Oscar Hijuelos, Sherman Alexie, Michelle Cliff, Mei Mei Evans, LeRoi Jones, and Sui Sin Far.

As "Savior of the Union" and the "Great Emancipator," Abraham Lincoln has been lauded for his courage, wisdom, and moral fiber. Yet Frederick Douglass's assertion that Lincoln was the "white man's president" has been used by some detractors as proof of his fundamentally racist character. Viewed objectively, Lincoln was a white man's president by virtue of his own whiteness and that of the culture that produced him. Until now, however, historians have rarely explored just what this means for our understanding of the man and his actions. Writing at the vanguard of "whiteness studies," Brian Dirck considers Lincoln as a typical American white man of his time who bore the multiple assumptions, prejudices, and limitations of his own racial identity. He shows us a Lincoln less willing or able to transcend those limitations than his more heroic persona might suggest but also contends that Lincoln's understanding and approach to racial bigotry was more enlightened than those of most of his white contemporaries. Blazing a new trail in Lincoln studies, Dirck reveals that Lincoln was well aware of and sympathetic to white fears, especially that of descending into "white trash," a notion that gnawed at a man eager to distance himself from his own coarse origins. But he also shows that after Lincoln crossed the Rubicon of black emancipation, he continued to grow beyond such cultural constraints, as seen in his seven recorded encounters with nonwhites. Dirck probes more deeply into what "white" meant in Lincoln's time and what it meant to Lincoln himself, and from this perspective he proposes a new understanding of how Lincoln viewed whiteness as a distinct racial category that influenced his policies. As Dirck ably demonstrates, Lincoln rose far enough above the confines of his culture to accomplish deeds still worthy of our admiration, and he calls for a more critically informed admiration of Lincoln that allows us to celebrate his considerable accomplishments while simultaneously recognizing his limitations. When Douglass observed that Lincoln was the white man's president, he may not have intended it as a serious analytical category. But, as Dirck shows, perhaps we should do so—the better to understand not just the Lincoln presidency, but the man himself.

This anthology covers diverse yet interconnected themes, including what it means to be a conscious witness of our times, questions about 9/11, the second Bush administration and the American Empire Project, the global economic crisis, income inequalities, personally navigating chaos and the election of Donald Trump. Here are alternative, radical ideas for social reform and tackling inequality. They offer an account of how American economic and political elites have undermined democracy and drastically weakened the U.S., while causing untold suffering in the Middle East and around the world. The author shows how we can make a lasting difference. The seeds of practical hope are nurtured for navigating chaos and for countering fear. He also suggests what we can do to re-imagine America as, "e;the promise of a new beginning."e; He calls for a new Covenant between the American people and its government that engages both conservatives and progressives

With the ever-expanding presence of China in the global economy, Americans more and more look east for goods and trade. But as Caroline Frank reveals, this is not a new development. China loomed as large in the minds—and account books—of eighteenth-century Americans as it does today. Long before they had achieved independence from Britain and were able to sail to Asia themselves, American mariners, merchants, and consumers were aware of the East Indies and preparing for voyages there. Focusing on the trade and consumption of porcelain, tea, and chinoiserie, Frank shows that colonial Americans saw themselves as part of a world much larger than just Britain and Europe Frank not only recovers the widespread presence of Chinese commodities in early America and the impact of East Indies trade on the nature of American commerce, but also explores the role of the this trade in American state formation. She argues that to understand how Chinese commodities fueled the opening acts of the Revolution, we must consider the power dynamics of the American quest for china—and China—during the colonial period. Filled with fresh and surprising insights, this ambitious study adds new dimensions to the ongoing story of America’s relationship with China.

In Imagining America, historian Alan M. Ball explores American influence in two newborn Russian states: the young Soviet Union and the modern Russian Republic. Ball deftly illustrates how in each era Russians have approached the United States with a conflicting mix of ideas—as a land to admire from afar, to shun at all costs, to emulate as quickly as possible, or to surpass on the way to a superior society. Drawing on a wide variety of sources including contemporary journals, newspapers, films, and popular songs, Ball traces the shifting Russian perceptions of American cultural, social, and political life. As he clearly demonstrates, throughout their history Russian imaginations featured a United States that political figures and intellectuals might embrace, exploit, or attack, but could not ignore.

"The Self-Help Myth reveals how philanthropy maintains systems of inequality by attracting attention to the behaviors and responsibilities of poor people while shifting the focus away from structural inequities and relationships of power that produce poverty. The book features foundation investments in addressing migrant poverty in California's Central Valley, simultaneously one of the wealthiest agricultural production regions in the world and home to the poorest people in the United States. The case studies show how compromises between foundation staff and community organizers produce programs that ask farmworkers to help themselves while excluding strategies that address the role of industrial agriculture in creating and maintaining regional poverty. Through archival and ethnographic case studies of foundation investments leading up to the historic Farm Worker Movement, to large scale foundation-driven initiatives to improve conditions in agricultural communities during the 1990s and 2000s, foundations set firm boundaries around definitions of self-help - excluding labor organizing, immigrant rights, and advocacy approaches that hold industry accountable for the enduring abuses of farmworkers and immigrants. Processes of professionalization and institutionalization required to maintain philanthropic relationships further frustrate nonprofit organizational staff increasingly accountable to foundations and not to the people they aim to represent and serve."--Provided by publisher.