Philadelphia: A Narrative History, by Paul Kahan

The diversity of the Delaware valley

Kahan begins before the beginning, which most consider to be bands of Indigenous people, the Lenni Lenape, who arrived in the region from hundreds to thousands of years ago, before Europeans seeking opportunity in the New World cheated them out of their land. Kahan briefly notes that the Lenape were preceded by Ice Age inhabitants around 18,000 years ago.

The Delaware River was the lure for Indigenous peoples as well as 17th-century Dutch, Swedes, and English who vied for water access, territory, and trade. It’s no coincidence that William Penn, determined to establish a capital of mercantile (and religious) freedom sited his city between major rivers: Delaware on the east, Schuylkill on the west.

The peaceful relations credited to Penn, Kahan writes, were built on a prior half-century of tolerance among Natives and Europeans. Initially, settlements were simply too weak to engage in hostilities. Peace was the only option. As Europeans became more confident of survival, they set their sights on expansion and profit. Peace became expendable.

Accessibility and natural resources made the Delaware Valley diverse long before Penn arrived in 1682. Indigenous nations, Africans, Dutch, English, Finns, and Swedes were already here. The establishment of a colony espousing religious tolerance drew new waves of immigrants to Pennsylvania, many of them fleeing religious persecution. It was a motivation Penn understood, having been disowned for his pursuit of Quakerism.

A fast-growing city

Philadelphia’s rapid growth over its first century resulted in crowding, disease, and clashes between established haves and newly arrived have-nots. Bigotry and racism, compounded by anti-urbanism, have influenced Philadelphia throughout its existence.

Though diverse, Philadelphia was controlled politically and economically by England, and citizens’ behavior was expected to meet English expectations. Religious tolerance did not translate to equality. Non-Quakers were barred from some jobs, and Catholics faced significant discrimination.

Poverty was considered a moral failing, which increased animosity toward later immigrants, who tended to be poorer and in worse health. Many Irish and Germans arrived as indentured servants or redemptioners, who sought sponsors after arriving. Combined with enslaved workers, these groups comprise what Kahan terms “unfree labor”, present in about a third of late 18th-century Philadelphia households.

By 1710, enslaved Africans represented about 20 percent of the city population. As a major port (the largest in British North America by 1770), Philadelphia was a center for slave importation. Faced with discrimination and racism, the enslaved and free Black population forged a distinct community of churches, educational institutions, and fraternal organizations.

Into the modern era

Philadelphia’s geographic location shaped its destiny. During the Civil War, it was the largest city in the southernmost free state, with the largest free Black population in the north. Philadelphia also maintained strong economic and cultural ties to the Confederacy. Which made Philadelphia a crucible for people on all sides of enslavement. Abolitionists were active here, and the city was a key stop on the Underground Railroad and a base of operation for its best-known conductor, Harriet Tubman.

Designed to be a capital of shipping and business, Philadelphia inevitably became a center for culture, education, intellectual pursuits, and publishing. Its diversity made it a place of political and social conflict, which generated reform movements. Kahan explores the city legacy of progressivism, including abolition, suffrage, labor, and civil rights.

Same as it ever was

When the first municipal government proved too weak to address social problems associated with rapid growth, Philadelphia pivoted to reliance on private entities and volunteers. Though as Kahan says, the tactic was “usually wholly inadequate to the challenges the city faced,” the inclination persisted, as evidenced by modern public-private partnerships.

Another challenge that persists is anti-urbanism, a suspicion of cities that was present even in remarks made by George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Cities were, and still are in some quarters, thought dangerous, immoral, diseased, and poverty-ridden. And the belief that poverty is a moral failing? That lives on too, and is at the heart of the belief that urban areas need corrective action. Kahan concludes that anti-urbanism comes from a darker place than a fear of cities generated by unfamiliarity: “Racism and bigotry also help explain why cities like Philadelphia are nearly constant targets of ‘reform’.”

Everything new is old

Many contemporary rivalries have long roots, including city-state conflicts, grassroots groups challenging entrenched elites, and preservationists confronting developers. The book traces urban planning through designers who’ve made the city their canvas, from Thomas Holme (original grid) to Paul Cret (Benjamin Franklin Parkway), to Edmund Bacon (Independence National Historical Park, Society Hill, Penn Center) and others, showing how drawing board and real world have clashed, compromised, and improvised.

Political behavior, unfortunately, is another constant. Late 19th-century Philadelphia Republicans wouldn’t think of voting for Democrats. Merchants supported protectionist tariffs. And in 1869, a Democratic mayor replaced the city police force because they had been appointed by his Republican predecessor. When a Republican was elected, the cycle reversed.

Widespread hyper-partisan behavior led the federal government in 1883 to enshrine merit-based hiring in the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act. The act mandates “that the federal government hire people based on their skills and education, not their politics.” It is the very principle under attack by the latest particularly vicious version of robber barons treating government service as spoils of war.

History helps us meet the clear danger of the present

Kahan’s book demonstrates the many ways in which Philadelphia history speaks to American history beyond the founding, and why it should be studied in full. He sees the fates of two local museums as a metaphor for Philadelphia’s dilemma: The Museum of the American Revolution opened in 2017 to strong support from institutions and great public enthusiasm, while a few blocks away, short on funding and interest, the Philadelphia History Museum would close the following year.

Known as Philadelphia’s attic, PHM was the repository for the collections of average citizens, shuttered businesses, and defunct museums. Artifacts from the collection, now held by Drexel University, were temporarily on view at Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, but future accessibility is uncertain.

As threats mount to the very identity of the United States, an identity that was debated and codified in Philadelphia, it’s essential for Americans to better understand their history, all of it. To meet the clear danger of the present, we need to remember who we are, and a detailed accounting of where Philadelphia has been over the past 350 years is a good place to start.