Trump Says Lincoln Could have ‘Settled’ w/ South Over Slavery

Last week Donald Trump suggested that Abraham Lincoln could have "settled" with the South over slavery, I thought of my great-grandfather, K.D. Stroud. Born on a Texas slave plantation, he remained there until age 19 in the Civil War's aftermath. His story isn't just family history—it's a powerful lens through which to view Trump's dangerous philosophy of moral compromise.

My great-grandfather went on to vote Republican—the party of Lincoln that had freed his mother and siblings. His conviction ran so deep that when his oldest son, Albert Ben Stroud, contemplated voting Democratic during the civil rights struggles of the 1920s and 1930s, he was temporarily expelled from the family home. Yet even after this political rift, my great-grandfather helped Albert build Ben's Express, an extension of the family trucking business that became one of the era's most successful Black-owned enterprises, serving major clients like Johnson & Johnson across 38 states for half a century.

This family legacy illuminates why Trump's suggestion about the Civil War is so deeply troubling. The freedom that enabled my family's rise from bondage to business success wasn't inevitable—it was won through a war that Lincoln understood was morally necessary. To suggest this conflict could have been "settled" through negotiation fundamentally misunderstands both history and morality.

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things: the decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth a war, is much worse…. A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares more about than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. ??John Stuart Mill

The economic stakes were enormous. By 1860, the value of enslaved Black Americans exceeded $3 billion—more than all American factories and railroads combined, equivalent to roughly $98.8 billion today. Cotton produced by enslaved labor generated $250 million annually, or $8.2 billion in today's terms. The North's complicity in this system, through its banks, railroads, and textile mills, demonstrates how economic self-interest can blind society to moral imperatives.

This pattern of misguided compromise with evil echoes through history. Consider World War II: Hitler's aggression grew bolder with each instance of appeasement. The fall of Poland led to Denmark, Norway, Belgium, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, and France. Only decisive confrontation halted the expansion that ultimately claimed up to 85 million lives—3% of the world's population.

Today, we face similar choices regarding Putin's aggression in Ukraine. Trump's suggestion to negotiate with Putin mirrors the same flawed logic he applied to the Civil War. Just as compromise over slavery would have perpetuated an immoral system, appeasing Putin would only encourage further aggression. Obama's hesitation over Crimea demonstrated this principle—inaction against authoritarian expansion only invites more.

The consequences of such compromises persist generations later. The wealth accumulated through slavery created disparities that still shape America: in 1860, the average White American's wealth was 60 times that of a Black American. While this gap narrowed to a factor of 10 by 1910, today's White families still possess about six times the wealth of Black families, with even starker disparities among college graduates.

Trump's "Art of the Deal" mentality reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of history's moral imperatives. Some principles—freedom, human dignity, sovereignty—cannot be negotiated away. From the Civil War to Ukraine, history teaches us that compromising with those who seek to dominate and oppress only leads to greater suffering.

As my family's story shows, the path from bondage to freedom requires more than negotiation—it demands unwavering commitment to moral principles. Whether facing slavery in 1861, fascism in 1939, or authoritarianism today, certain struggles require us to stand firm, regardless of the cost. The upcoming election, like those pivotal moments in history, asks us to choose between moral clarity and dangerous compromise.

The stakes today echo those our ancestors faced. Just as Northern profits from slavery once clouded moral judgment, we must now look beyond short-term expediency to see the broader implications of our choices. The lessons of history—from my great-grandfather's plantation to Putin's invasion of Ukraine—remind us that some principles are worth fighting for, and that the true cost of compromise with what we know to be wrong is always higher than we imagine.