amplify, promoted that single year as if it—or the Declaration of Independence—were a toothpaste or automobile. In recent decades, several scholars have gone so far as to describe the Declaration’s portraiture as quasireligious.
Such legacies are not trivial, because they continue to weigh on national opinion. It has often been remarked, for example, that Washington officeholders pontificating on markets, taxes, and monetary policy are usually repeating the ideas of some dead economist, often one of whom the orator had no inkling. Similarly, Fourth of July speakers holding forth about the Declaration or the Spirit of ’Seventy-Six are often repeating the ideas of some deceased Consensus historian or trite bicentennial commemoration. Such are the ways that historical fashion can linger well beyond its expiration date.
For example, the theses offered by Consensus historians in the confident decades following World War II typically emphasized American distinctiveness and exceptionalism. Many played down internal divisions in the colonies, instead suggesting a considerable homogeneity of pro-Revolutionary opinion. In the words of Daniel Boorstin, the Revolution “was hardly a revolution at all” and bore little resemblance to upheavals in Europe. 2 IfAmericans were not entirely united in 1775 and 1776, the argument went, they were not seriously divided either. Neo-Whigs were less consensus driven. Although they rejected social and economic causations, most singled out “more political, legalistic and constitutional” explanations of the Revolution’s emergence. Patriot victory, pronounced one, represented “the triumph of a principle.” 3
The late 1940s, 1950s, and early 1960s were also a time when prominent thinkers imagined an “end of ideology” and a triumph of moderation. Others enthused over a “melting pot” bound to lessen ethnic and racial differences. Some homogenization was presumed, if not endorsed. The concept of Americanism became strong enough that the House of Representatives could establish a Committee on Un-American Activities. Beyond politics, for those of us old enough to remember the cooking of the 1950s, that too was bland. Jell-O was a staple; frozen pizza was a breakthrough.
More depth and attention to historical complexity developed in the 1970s and 1980s, abetted by the rise of specialties such as military history, as well as by cliometrics and neoprogressive emphasis on “bottom-up” economic history that analyzed the circumstances of ordinary folk. The first camp directed attention to internal conflict and civil war in Revolutionary America. The second latched on to social and economic discontent, not least in prewar cities and seaports. From a relatively conservative perspective, military historians were persuasive in maintaining that “close study of the areas committed to one side or the other supports the view that ethnic and religious differences were important determinants of Revolutionary behavior.” 4
Sophisticated information technology has been a particular boon, opening up new resources, making available specialized detail, and providing easy access to hard-to-find collections and publications. This, too, diminished misconceptions of relative colonial homogeneity and the oneness of political opinion. The Internet Revolution, especially in the 2000s, worked its own magic. Colonial America regained complexity and tension; Consensus and to a lesser extent Neo-Whig interpretations lost ground. Social, economic, and internal conflict-based explanations regained influence.
This book does not contend that a particular set of social and economic forces touched off the Revolution. On the contrary, no one set of causations played that role, because too many separate ingredients were involved. Of thirteen colonies, roughly half were economic and cultural amalgamates.New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and the Carolinas were conspicuously so. Social, economic, political,