Chapter Twelve - The Slave Question

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Slave Question

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN WAS a man of progress.

But he wasn’t perfect.

And when it came to slavery, he was late.

Like many wealthy men of his time, Franklin owned enslaved people. Not many, at least two we know of, maybe three, but the number doesn’t soften the fact. He published ads for slave auctions in his newspaper. He profited from a system that crushed human lives. And for a long time, he didn’t question it.

He was busy building things: businesses, libraries, governments, and identities.

For decades, he let slavery stay in the background.

But something changed.

Late in life, Franklin started paying attention.

He visited a school for Black children in Philadelphia and came away shaken, not because they struggled, but because they excelled. He realized the lie. These were not “lesser” minds. They were brilliant, capable, and crushed by circumstance. That was the system talking. That was America’s original contradiction staring him in the face.

And Franklin, to his credit, did not look away.

In his final years, he joined the Pennsylvania Abolition Society and became its president.

He started writing publicly against slavery.

He called it a crime.

He called it a stain.

He called for the abolition of the slave trade and the eventual end of slavery.

In 1790, just a few months before his death, Franklin submitted a petition to the U.S. Congress, the brand-new government he had helped create, calling for the end of slavery.

Congress panicked.

Southern lawmakers were outraged. They attacked Franklin. They called him senile. They mocked the petition. The institution was too entrenched. Too profitable. Too American.

Congress tabled it after an angry debate.

Franklin knew they would.

But he filed it anyway.

Because someone had to go on record.

It was one of the last things he ever did.

Not to fix the problem, he couldn’t.

But to name it.

To say it out loud.

To make sure that future generations knew someone tried.