Justice, Elections, and Whiteness
Brits By the Boatload
When that boatload of Brits showed up in Massachusetts, they quite literally considered themselves god’s gift to the continent. Subsequently, they decided which religions were acceptable; which ethnicities and countries of origin were acceptable; who could vote; who would be enslaved; who lived and who died.
This norm has functioned continuously since, letting some in and refusing entrance to others. This normative power is what Professor Ignatiev meant by “white” in her book How the Irish Became White.
A look at the election results this past Tuesday demonstrates that white skin and male gender are still the tickets to power in the United States, the power of whiteness.
That boatload of British Anglo Saxon Protestants declared themselves the baseline. The arbiters of all things worthy. And they vote.
US history shows that some groups were able to get into the club relatively easily. Descendants of German immigrants, for example, now outnumber descendants of British immigrants. George Washington was half German, though it took until 1890 for a full-blooded German to be elected to national office . . .
Germans became white in 1890.
Professor Ignatiev argues that the Irish became white by becoming more racist than the British and Germans. One piece of evidence: is it a coincidence that the great haters on Fox News are generally of Irish extraction?
Whiteness. It’s a club.
Tuesday’s election demonstrated that whiteness hasn’t given up. I suspect it will become more overt in the next several years.
Here’s a hero many haven’t heard of: A. Philip Randolph. Randolph was African American, born in 1889. He organized a union called the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters. One of the first African American unions. He was also president of the Negro American Labor Council and vice-president of the AFL-CIO.
Whether it’s right or wrong, the Marxist analysis of race that Randolph believed is very simple: the ruling class (read: that boat load of Brits) uses racial prejudice to divide and conquer the poor. In other words, Marxists say that “whiteness”—and allowing some into the club of whiteness—is a manipulative tool for controlling the poor, the majority.
True or untrue, this analysis of race is why humanists, Unitarians, Universalists, and other progressives were once at the forefront of anti-racism work and nowadays are not. True or untrue, the Marxist story marked a path that could be usefully followed.
A. Philip Randolph was a Socialist. An atheist. And a humanist. He signed the second Humanist Manifesto in 1973. (As did Betty Friedan.) The second manifesto was a child of the more explicitly socialist first Humanist Manifesto, written when the New Deal was a heady dream.
Humanism has socialism in its DNA. After all, if you believe in the inherent worth and dignity of each person, it’s hard to argue that “white” America and its engine, Capitalism, offer a level playing field. Facts on the ground point the other direction. Far from being a statement of individualism, the inherent worth and dignity of every person implies communal action toward communal good.
After all, after you’ve asked how a nation can create a level playing field, you have gone down the road of redistributive justice. The most extreme of un-individualistic ideals.
There are two ways to redistribute wealth: revolution and taxes. Sane people tend to suggest that taxes are the way to go . . .
But back to A. Philip Randolph, who helped plan (along with nonviolence theorist, gay rights activist, and socialist Bayard Rustin) the 1963 March on Washington, where MLK gave his greatest speech. That march was the culmination of a way of thinking outside the norm.
And that was then. Isn’t it almost unthinkable in today’s US? Where would the Civil Rights Movement have been without labor halls to speak in and union money?
We are the stories we tell ourselves. “True” or not, some narratives bear richer fruit than others. The idea that race is a construct used by the oppressors to oppress was the fuel of the Civil Rights Movement. Nothing since has borne so much fruit.
I’m just sayin’ . . .
A Phillip Randolph put it this way:
Justice is never given; it is exacted and the struggle must be continuous for freedom is never a final fact, but a continuing evolving process to higher and higher levels of human, social, economic, political and religious relationship.
Election Day, November 4, 2014
(photo by D.Vandiver)
Today is the day, friends. The day to VOTE.
This is the day when we get a chance to be citizens and constituents, rather than just consumers. Today is the day this nation decides party control over the House and Senate, decides who will address the looming issues of raising the minimum wage, immigration reform, equal pay, and – let us not forget – going back to war.
In New Orleans, many judicial races will be decided today – criminal court, domestic court, juvenile court… Today we elect the people who will decide who goes to jail, who gets custody in a domestic violence case, whether or not your child gets a second chance… Beloveds, in a state that incarcerates more people per capita than any other state in the country, this election matters.
Wherever you live, it is the local elections that will most immediately shape your community. What happens in Washington, DC certainly impacts us, but rarely as intimately as local policy and enforcement.
If you are young – please vote! If you are an elder – please vote! If you are in the sandwich generation – please vote!
If you can vote, please vote.
If you voted early, well done!
If you, like me, plan to vote today – don’t forget!
Vote today.
There are 2,867,473 registered voters in the state of Louisiana. Almost 2.9 million possible voters! Let’s see what it looks like when we all show up to choose the people who will make the decisions that shape our schools and our families, our courts and our country.
With gratitude to everyone who can vote today and grief for all of those denied the right to vote through the gutting of the Voters’ Rights Act and other egregious practices, I wish each of you well. May this election day end with leaders elected who care about you, your families, and our planet.
Go forth in peace and vote!
PS: In Orleans Parish, mark your calendar to vote on Dec. 6th, too! The state legislature has tried to do an end run around the Orleans Parish School Board (OPSB) and give away its money and control to the Recovery School District (RSD) through a millage vote that doesn’t even list the RSD in the summary that will appear on the ballot. It is slick, my friends, and it is as wrong as having to work on Mardi Gras day. Mark your calendars for Dec. 6th and vote NO on the grand theft masquerading as an education millage.
Conscience and Choosing the Hill to Die On
As of this writing, Maine nurse Kaci Hickox is under house arrest for her resistance to what she considers a fear-based, anti-scientific, and politically-motivated quarantine.
In 2012, the US military experienced a odd occurrence: for the first time in US history during time of war, more active duty troops died as a result of suicide than combat.
Chinese human rights lawyer Gao Zhiseng disappeared in 2009. He reappeared recently, in prison, with no charges against him, and no release date.
Shirin Ebadi, an Iranian lawyer, risked torture, imprisonment, and death fighting in the courts for the rights of women and children in Iran.
All these stepped out of line. They disobeyed their governments. Some disobeyed the dictates or their religions. Most are disliked by a majority of their fellow citizens. Some of them chose death rather than a life of guilt and shame.
Why do people do things that sometimes get them killed; sometimes imprisoned; sometimes demoted or fired or exposed to the scorn of millions of their fellow citizens?
What drives all of this crazy, counter-intuitive, behavior?
Conscience. And the mental punishment inflicted by conscience, guilt.
Conscience. The feeling that some actions cannot be condoned, no matter how “legal” they are.
The feeling that enables we human beings to take actions for the good of others rather than ourselves.
The Great Leap into Sapiens
Why do human beings have a conscience? Isn’t a conscience merely a drag on getting ahead?
Henry David Thoreau said in his handbook for rebellion, Civil Disobedience: “If the machine of government is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then, I say, break the law.”
Despite the fact that Thoreau’s thoughts have become the template for those acting on conscience, notice that word “machine.” Thoreau saw conscience as an individual attribute against a deterministic mass. But it isn’t always, is it? Sometimes, as in the case of Edward Snowden, the machine is ambiguous.
We still don’t know why homo sapiens sapiens—the “wise man,” as scientists have (perhaps over-confidently) called our species—began to have a conscience. My vote for best hypothesis goes to British anthropologist Robin Dunbar.
Dunbar theorizes that human language developed as a result of the need to socially interact in larger groups. Neanderthal, for example—also known as homo sapiens neanderthalensis—traveled in very small bands—and were for the most part inbred. They didn’t use a whole lot a gray matter figuring out what other people were thinking or trying to get along with an extended group.
They didn’t use their words much, and so didn’t have a need for a great many. They probably didn’t have much of a conscience, either.
Navigating the deep and often stormy waters of multiple relationships, however, required a good many words and concepts. And this may be why the children of homo sapiens sapiens—the “wise man”—developed complex language. It was a matter of talking about it or dying. It was also a matter of considering multiple goods in the gray shades that human existence swims in.
Emotions are in the gut. But it takes gray matter and complex language to make the complex decisions a Solomon or an Edward Snowden have to make.
The Critical Mind
Philosopher Peter Singer says there are two types of conscience—the traditional and the critical. This goes some way into an important distinction. Most people have that traditional form of conscience. It’s the stuff of traditional religions. It’s the level of confidence in others that allows us to work in offices and live in communities. Almost all human beings have it.
The people who get the Nobel Peace Prize are of the critical variety. A Malala or Shirin Ebadi. They have considered the arguments of the majority. They have heard the arguments of traditional religion. And they have decided to act for a greater good.
The right thing to do isn’t always clear. Human governments aren’t faceless machines of conformity, as Thoreau appears to have thought. The individual isn’t always correct. (The deluded decision-making of Timothy McVeigh demonstrates that point.) Yet, homo sapiens sapiens gets wiser only though the actions of brave individuals risking themselves and thinking way outside the box.
It is that accumulation of brave thinkers that may, someday, made us truly wise.
The Neighbors are Zombies Living in Maslow’s Basement!
Imagine the laid-back life of a zombie.
First of all, you’re dead. So. No more taxes! That’s for sure. And monthly bills will bother you no more.
Besides no more worries about death and taxes, look at how focused you are: your meaning and purpose have boiled down to searching for brains to eat. Admirable focus.
And zombies have lot’s of friends.
Being un-dead has its moments. You’re well beyond all the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” Your only worry is getting shot in the head.
Director George A Romero, who directed “Night of the Living Dead,” is credited with having created the contemporary zombie. He has this to say: “I just took some of the mysterioso stuff of voodoo out of it, and made them the neighbors. Neighbors are frightening enough when they’re alive.”
I have a suspicion this goes a long way toward explaining the huge popularity of zombies. Perhaps they represent all the danger we see in others and in ourselves.
Chip and Dan Heath, marketing gurus, have come up with the term “Maslow’s Basement.” Their argument is that most marketing depends upon the bottom end of psychologist Abraham Maslow’s “hierarch of needs” pyramid. In that model, there are three principles that motivate people to buy a product: fear, greed, or lust. These are base desires, Maslow’s Basement.
I suppose the high end of Maslow’s hierarchy, such things as morality, creativity, and spontaneity, as Maslow’s attic. (Zombies definitely live in the basement.)
Research shows that people report that other people are motivated by fear, greed and lust. But people self-report that their actions are motivated by empathy and compassion. In other words, we fear their neighbors, just as director George A. Romero claims.
The counter-intuitive fact may be that the self-reporting is correct. Meaning that all of us—including our neighbors—are more influenced by compassion and empathy than by Maslow’s Basement motivators of fear, greed, or lust.
We may be selling our species short! Perhaps our default mode is NOT to dwell in Maslow’s Basement. Perhaps our neighbors are not potential zombies.
Perhaps we all, as Oscar Wilde said, despite having our feet in the gutter, are looking at the stars.
The zombie apocalypse will not be televised. Because it’s not coming. Because most of us are inclined to treat our neighbors . . . not as zombies but as ourselves.
Please
Tonight we stood together around candles that marked the spot where his body was found this morning. Tonight we poured out our stories and our songs, our prayers and our tears. Tonight we reminded each other that we are loved and loving, that our lives have value and are valued by each other. Tonight we said good-bye to a good friend and a committed organizer.
So tomorrow, when you read in the paper or hear in the news that another black teenage boy was found shot to death in the 9th Ward of New Orleans, stop. Please stop and send love to his family, to his friends, to the community that cared for him, cares for him still.
Please stop and let your heart be broken, broken open at least a little bit, with compassion for a child who was loved, will always be loved, and for those who love him. Mark the passing of a dear soul light who shined brightly in this world and made it a better place.
If you pray, pray for us, pray with us.
Grieve with us. Mourn with us.
And then – organize.
Organize with us to heal this world, to change it into a place where 15 year olds are not killed by guns — are not killed at all. Make George proud.
Where Is the I in Me? Emotions, Self and Soul
A child falls down and begins screaming. It’s common. You did it as a child. I did it.
What happens next?
For me, my parents said, “Get up off the floor! Boys don’t cry!”
When this happens at an upscale pre-school nearby, I’m more likely to hear, “You feel sad!” Or, “That’s frustrating, isn’t it?” Or, “You’re so angry!”
What’s the difference between the two parental responses?
Fact is, any time I cried as a child, I got the same response: “Boys don’t cry.”
Consequently, I learned to suppress my emotions rather than expressing them.
That child outside the pre-school, on the other hand, is being taught the difference between anger and sadness and frustration and fear and embarrassment. That child is developing a palate of emotions with nuance. That child is developing “emotional intelligence.”
Kids treated as I was learn that emotions need to be suppressed. We learn “men don’t do that.” We learn “women are hysterical.”
And so the cliches go, ‘round and around.
And so does the drinking and drugs and physical violence and abuse that come as a consequence of the suppression of emotion.
Now, allow me to add that my parents were preparing me for the world that they lived in: working class people learn to be very careful about emotion. You can’t let the boss see your emotion.
My father was in the Boiler Makers Union. You don’t cry among your fellow Boiler Makers. And you don’t get angry when the boss yells at you.
We were also farmers, and farmers in traditional communities aren’t allowed to get angry either. You can’t show anger when the bank won’t give you a loan . . . and on and on. It’s a life of oppression and suppression in which a show of emotion can be interpreted as dangerous.
That’s the world I was prepared for. Everyone has a story.
We call the result “stable.” But at what cost to both the individual and society?
Professor George Rowan did a study called “A Multicultural Investigation of Masculinity Ideology and Alexithymia.” It wasn’t a best seller, but the study tells us what we already have intuited: In many social groups, men are afraid to express emotion, especially in the presence of other men.
“Alexitymia” describes the result of this suppression: an inability to describe emotions; an inability to sustain social connections; and an inability to sustain interpersonal relationships.
The result is a socially-created sociopath. The result is a dangerous person created by the desire to live up to the social definition of masculinity.
That pretty well describes the men in my extended family.
Think for a moment about how many—and different—lives you lead. Partner. Friend. Manager. Co-worker. Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy . . .
We learn to use different vocabularies in these different niches. We learn to express our emotions differently. In addition, as the dad of two children in the GLBTQ alphabet soup, I know that the gender binary is an inconvenient fiction. Men aren’t from Mars and women from Venus. We come from many planets.
Yes, there are differences in the emotional lives—and the ability to articulate—that can be called gender difference. Still, we have an obligation to try to use our words, no matter what planet we’re from.
The Twentieth Century writer Anais Nin started writing when she was eleven. She continued, obsessively writing of her inner life, for more than sixty years. She said this:
I am a series of moods and sensations. I play a thousand roles. I weep when I find others play them for me. My real self is unknown . . . I create a myth and a legend, a lie, a fairy tale, a magical world, and one that collapses every day . . .
It isn’t that Nin had some super-complex emotional life. Or that she was mentally ill. Rather, she had the tenacity to pursue her many selves to the essence of the self. Much like the Buddha. And, like the Buddha, she discovered there isn’t one.
There is no constant self. The evidence is right before our eyes. And right behind them too. What we have instead is an ocean of sensation and reaction. We have emotions, some fleeting, some stable enough to be called moods. These add up to what we call a self. Yet it’s a fiction.
The dangerous and damaging idea behind this insistence on a stable self is what has been called “soul” in the Western tradition. That tradition tells us that the soul is incarnated. Lives in the flesh for a time. Then goes somewhere forever, still constituted as the self that lived on earth. In some traditions the soul is rewarded with heaven or hell. In others the soul blissfully resides . . . well, somewhere.
Such an idea is a dangerous illusion. The only constant is change. And the self and the soul it creates are stories we tell ourselves.
When we figure that out, the Buddha said we are enlightened. Anais Nin put it this way: “I see myself and my life each day differently. What can I say? The facts lie.”
Companions on the journey
“May beauty and passion and compassion be our companions. May we be fully alive. Amen.” ~Rev. Kim Crawford Harvie (Healing Places, 9/14/2014)
Keep the faith, beloveds.
Keep showing up.
Keep paying attention.
Keep speaking your truth.
Because we have changed,
the world is changed.
And you are not alone…
#blacklivesmatter
#FergusonOctober
#MoralMonday
#Not1More
#RaiseTheWage
#ClimateJustice
#bethechange
The Open and Shut (?) Case on Religious Thinking and Cognitive Closure
It isn’t news that there’s an inverse relation between religious piety and innovative thought. Religion is a handbrake—whether it stops humanity from going uphill or downhill is the real question.
When a new study comes out telling us what we already know about secularity, my secular acquaintances do the I-told-you-so as the religious squint and look for flaws in the statistics.
The latest study, “Forbidden Fruits: The Political Economy of Science, Religion, and Growth,” is the most thorough study yet (see link below). Furthermore, it hits in the pocketbook: religion costs the economy.
Not to ruin the study’s punchline, but both internationally and in the US the secular spots are the innovative spots. And vise versa. In the US, religiosity drags down innovation in all but two of the old Confederate States of America.
What’s up with religion?
Full disclosure: I am a humanist. Most humanists don’t put much credence in the revelations of the various scriptures and traditions of religions. Many of us are agnostic or atheist. We tend to put our trust in reason and the scientific method, ways of thinking predicated on not knowing. We like mystery, because it gives us something to do on long afternoons. We like not knowing what we don’t know.
According to this latest study, the humanist brain is a good place to be if you happen to be an innovative idea. Why? Dr. Arie Kruglanski, a social psychologist, has created the theory of “cognitive closure.” His theory examines the fact that some people are more comfortable with ambiguity than others. Humanists eat ambiguity for breakfast. We love it. But some folks search for a definitive answer, even if that answer is . . . well, clearly wrong—an answer with flaws even the believer can see (but chooses to ignore or compartmentalize).
That’s why Dr. Kruglanski gets the call when we try to understand the minds of terrorists. Some of us don’t need closure all that much. But many of us do—whatever the cost to our own reasoning abilities.
Yet, yet. But . . . the question that generated the US portion of the study was this: “are you a religious person, not a religious person, a convinced atheist, or don’t know?”
Those who identify themselves with their (mainline) religions as a primary descriptor will clearly pick “religious person.” But what about those who identify as pagan? Buddhist? The spiritual but not religious? Unitarian Universalists . . .
I happened to grow up in a religious tradition that absolutely required cognitive closure—the sort of folks who build creationist museums. Yet, as an agnostic humanist, I also would tick the box for “religious person.” I think a lot about my values and actions and I work hard to live out my values. To me that’s a religious person.
Yes, there is value in the mounting heap of studies that indicate that religion can be bad for society. But, dear researchers, please avoid cognitive closure! Some of us are spiritual but not religious. And some of us are religious but humanist, drinking ambiguity like an ever-flowing stream.
“Forbidden Fruits: The Political Economy of Science, Religion, and Growth” by
Roland Benabou, Davide Ticchi, Andrea Vindigni
https://openclipart.org/detail/87589/combination-lock-by-jhnri4
Sunny Side Up with a Side of Racism
Yesterday after church, my family and I stopped at a favorite cafe in Hartford. It’s a funky kind of place with a diverse clientele and a good Sunday brunch. I walked in while my spouse got the baby out of the car. I asked a white woman who was standing by the door whether she was waiting to be seated. She directed me to the counter where I was greeted by the hostess:
“Hi there, will you be joining us for brunch today?”
Me: “We’d like to. What’s the wait like for two and a baby?”
Hostess: “We can seat you right away when your party is complete. Do you need a high chair?”
Me: “Great! They’ll be here in a minute. And, yes, a high chair would be great.”
Hostess: “Wonderful! Let me just get a high chair and get your table set up.”
Now, there was the other white woman waiting near me and there were three tables open: two two-tops and a four-top. While I was talking to the hostess, an African American man had come in the door and was standing behind me. The white hostess walked away (to get our high chair) without acknowledging him. Her white co-worker stepped up to the counter just as the man did, greeting him with a very different tone that can only be described as “icy,” saying:
“Are you all set?”
Customer: “Well, I wanted to have a seat.”
Hostess 2: “We are just serving brunch right now, is that what you wanted?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Hostess 2: “How many in your party?”
Customer: (Holding up one finger and his laptop) “Just one.”
Hostess 2: “We have nothing open right now, do you want to give me your name?”
Customer: (Looking at three open tables and a completely open counter.) “No. Forget it.”
And he left.
The original hostess came back seconds later just as my spouse and baby came in. We were seated right away at one of the open tables with a high chair. Soon after we sat, the other white woman’s friend who was African American joined her, and they were seated at the other two top.
The restaurant buzzed with conversation. People’s food came. Our waiter took our order. My daughter ate Cheerios with abandon; my spouse looked at the menu; and I sat there trying to process what had just happened.
I wasn’t sure what to think about it then, and I’m not sure what to say about it now, except that it hurt my heart. Oh, we could talk through the myriad reasons why the second hostess may have greeted the customer who came after me in such an unprofessional manner. And we could talk about the complexities of restaurant seating, who comes first, holding tables for waiting parties, not seating one person at a four-top. (Full Disclosure: I hated being a hostess.) And we could say that she might have had the exact same interaction with a white person, maybe that’s just her style. Or maybe the dude just decided he wasn’t in the mood for brunch anymore, but I don’t think so.
Instead, I think that I witnessed one of many “micro-aggressions” that people of color experience on a daily basis. (Read more on micro-aggressions here.) After what I saw yesterday, I understand even more clearly how such interactions take their tole, day after day, year after year. It is worth saying that women and LGBTQ people share this experience, albeit in different ways. (I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been told how surprisingly insightful my sermons are for a young woman.)
Yesterday, I did not know how to respond to what I saw. We debated leaving. We debated saying something. But I didn’t know what to say, and I am not sure yet what I would have or should have said. I regret, though, not saying something.
I wonder how many people have received a similar unwelcoming “welcome” on a Sunday morning at church. No matter how hospitable we may want to be, it is quite possible that we may greet visitors and long-time members alike with unintentional micro-aggressions. Sunday morning – be it at brunch or Sunday services – is a time to widen our welcome as we greet all who come through our doors with equal respect and genuine hospitality.
I, myself, am working to examine my own interactions with all sorts of people, on the look out for times when I may be, despite my best intentions, a “micro-aggressor.” The work of dismantling racism starts with adjusting how we see our world and shifting our (inter-)actions toward openness, welcome, and love.
