How Boston remembers Anthony Burns, a man forcefully returned to slavery

Axios

2 days ago

On this day 171 years ago, federal officials escorted a man in chains downtown to remove him from Massachusetts.
Anthony Burns, then age 20, had escaped bondage in Virginia only to be forcefully returned.
Why it matters: Burns' arrest became a flashpoint for Boston at a time when the nation was starkly divided, and historical reenactments and discussions are keeping his legacy alive nearly two centuries later.
Between the lines: The nation was starkly divided over slavery.
Depending on whom you asked, Burns was either kidnapped by a Virginia slave owner with the help of federal officials or returned to his rightful owner, per National Park Service archives.
Anti-slavery activists debated whether the Fugitive Slave Act or a "higher law" should take precedence in a state that had abolished slavery decades earlier, says Shawn Quigley, lead ranger for the National Parks of Boston.
State of play: National Park Service rangers in Boston revive that debate in their town meeting programming, including a recent reenactment of a May 26, 1854, meeting anti-slavery activists held in Faneuil Hall.
Rangers pass out cards and ask the audience to deliver various arguments, Quigley says.
The latest event was at the Old South Meeting House, with support from Revolutionary Space, but the Burns events will resume weekly once a restoration project at Faneuil Hall wraps up later this month.
What they're saying: "The history of Faneuil Hall in Boston is not just the American Revolution, and it's a continuation of the American Revolution," Quigley tells Axios.
Flashback: While activists debated in Faneuil Hall, they got word that a group of radical abolitionists tried to break down the courthouse entrance to rescue Burns.
The abolitionists failed, and a federal marshal was fatally shot.
Burns lost his case in court, but the day he was removed from Boston surrounded by federal troops, more than 50,000 people in Boston protested — equivalent to nearly half of the city's population at the time, Quigley says.
A far smaller coalition led by the Twelfth Baptist Church in Boston tracked down Burns and paid for his freedom in 1855.
Burns returned to Boston briefly before studying at Oberlin College in Ohio and becoming a pastor in Canada.
Today, the nation is again divided over its collective identity.
Now, instead referring to slave catchers, activists are calling immigration agents " kidnappers," like in the arrest of Tufts international student Rümeysa Öztürk, while supporters hail the detention of pro-Palestinian protesters and call them terrorists.
Americans nationwide, including in Massachusetts, can't agree on immigration policies, LGBTQ+ issues, or diversity, equity and inclusion efforts — all at a time when the federal government is embattled over federally funded research, its workforce and national parks resources.
National Parks of Boston workers, including Quigley, wouldn't discuss the current political climate, citing restrictions under the Hatch Act.
What Quigley did say is that he wants people to consider the programming like the Burns discussions as an example of how the nation's revolutionary spirit has persisted after all these years.