Shelby Steele Is Simply Unbelievable, Again

Shelby Steele's essay "Barack the Good" converts the mind, enlightening it, turning it around. It is the opening of a door in what seemed a hopeless cave. Mr. Steele sees, understands, leads. He points the way toward truths far beyond the mundanity of politics, social stature or achievement. He drops gems for us along our path outward, toward intellectual freedom, toward a broader understanding and greater moral clarity:

A historic figure making history, this is emerging as an over-arching theme—if not obsession—in the Obama presidency. In Iowa, a day after signing health care into law, he put himself into competition with history. If history shapes men, "We still have the power to shape history." But this adds up to one thing: He is likely to be the most liberal president in American history. And, oddly, he may be a more effective liberal precisely because his liberalism is something he uses more than he believes in. As the far left constantly reminds us, he is not really a true believer. Rather liberalism is his ticket to grandiosity and to historical significance.

Of the two great societal goals—freedom and "the good"—freedom requires a conservatism, a discipline of principles over the good, limited government, and so on. No way to grandiosity here. But today's liberalism is focused on "the good" more than on freedom. And ideas of "the good" are often a license to transgress democratic principles in order to reach social justice or to achieve more equality or to lessen suffering. The great political advantage of modern liberalism is its offer of license on the one hand and moral innocence—if not superiority—on the other. Liberalism lets you force people to buy health insurance and feel morally superior as you do it. Power and innocence at the same time.[...]

There has always been a narcissistic charge around Mr. Obama, the sense that in embracing him one was embracing something special in oneself—and possibly even a larger idea of human perfectibility.[...]

Mr. Obama's success has always been ephemeral because it was based on an illusion: that if we Americans could transcend race enough to elect a black president, we could transcend all manner of human banalities and be on our way to human perfectibility. A black president would put us in a higher human territory. And yet the poor man we elected to play out this fantasy is now torturing us with his need to reflect our grandiosity back to us. [bold mine, added for emphasis]

I urge you to read Mr. Steele's essay for yourself. His commentary is incisive, brutal in its accuracy. It is told in the manner of a true intellectual. This is not the sort of pablum common to the academy or the liberal press; it is not remotely like the airs that pass for solids on so many vapid talk shows, or in the prose of Paul Krugman and Frank Rich. This is the sort of work that is the intellectual urgrund, the undefined substrate, of all that it means to think deeply about a matter. And it's moral vision is far more Hebraic than Greek; less like an oracle and more like the proclamations of Isaiah.

Barack Obama is using liberalism as a tool, not to build the Great Society, but to build the Great Legacy,  the Great Boast: Here is a man of great import. 

Let us feel good.  

(Oh, and let us not forget about history.)

©2010/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved. 

Pre-mature Post-Racialism, Or Post-Post-Racialism?

What an interesting perspective Shelby Steele brings to his analysis (in today's Wall Street Journal) of Barack Obama's nomination of Sonia Sotomayor to the United States Supreme Court! I know, I know. You've heard it all before; sickened by the endless commentary about Ms. Sotomayor, you're eager to just move on. But I suspect that Mr. Steele's piece will, at least, give you a moment's pause.

Mr. Steele once again† brings us back to his very helpful rubric, that to properly interpret the world of racial politics in America one must understand that such a world is divided into two types of persons, bargainers and challengers. In light of the alleged post-racialism incarnated in Mr. Obama, and that Mr. Obama's nomination of Ms. Sotomayor is anything but post-racial, Shelby Steele makes this fairly damning observation:

But of course "post-racialism" is not a real idea. It is an impression, a chimera that grows out of a very specific racial manipulation that I have called "bargaining." Here the minority makes a bargain with white society: I will not "guilt" you with America's centuries of racism if you will not hold my minority status against me. Whites love this bargain because it allows them to feel above America's racist past and, therefore, immune to charges of racism. By embracing the bargainer they embrace the impression of a world beyond racial division, a world in which whites are innocent and minorities carry no anger. This is the impression that animates bargainers like Mr. Obama or Oprah Winfrey with an irresistible charisma. Even if post-racialism is an obvious illusion -- a bargainer's trick as it were -- whites are flattered by believing in it.

I can't imagine that this sort of commentary sits well with Mr. Steele's peers. One gets the sense that it is rather risky of Mr. Steele to imply that white acceptance of minorities is not essentially authentic -- it is not born of genuine compassion -- but is instead the outcome of a deal where whites regain their sense of moral authority, of being good and fair people.

Nor can I imagine that many folks who pride themselves on being particularly beneficent and sensitive to injustice would appreciate Mr. Steele when he writes about challengers:

Judge Sotomayor is the archetypal challenger. Challengers see the moral authority that comes from their group's historic grievance as an entitlement to immediate parity with whites -- whether or not their group has actually earned this parity through development. If their group is not yet competitive with whites, the moral authority that comes from their grievance should be allowed to compensate for what they lack in development. This creates a terrible corruption in which the group's historic grievance is allowed to count as individual merit. And so a perverse incentive is created: Weakness and victimization are rewarded over development. Better to be a troublemaker than to pursue excellence.

Sonia Sotomayor is of the generation of minorities that came of age under the hegemony of this perverse incentive. For this generation, challenging and protesting were careerism itself. This is why middle- and upper middle-class minorities are often more militant than poor and working-class minorities. America's institutions -- universities, government agencies, the media and even corporations -- reward their grievance. Minority intellectuals, especially, have been rewarded for theories that justify grievance.

Seriously, you should read the entirety of Mr. Steele's essay.



†I've mentioned Mr. Steele's work before, particularly that which is associated with his book, White Guilt. (Also, see here and here, if interested.)

My Mistake

A little more than a year ago I spent too much time defending the great gaffe of radio talk show legend Don Imus. Recall that Mr. Imus, the curmudgeon par excellence, referred to the Rutgers University women's basketball team as "nappy headed hos." As stupid and adolescent as it was, it was not to my ears a racist remark. It was undoubtedly racially insensitive; it was dopey and unfunny and insulting, but it was not racist, especially when compared to what he said about the Rutgers opponents, also mostly African-Americans: he described them as "cute."

Context was everything in the Imus story, but the context, and all proportion, were largely ignored. And the context was really rather broad, extending far beyond Imus' microphone out to the hip hop culture, and even American Idol: contemporaneous to the Imus debacle, a black American Idol finalist innocently reported on the most-watched American TV series how she and her family never imagined such good luck would befall a "nappy haired girl."

But after all the ballyhoo and breast beating and moral posturing, after all the appeals for absolution, Don Imus is finally back on the airwaves. And in all honesty, I find his show simply, well, awful. It is dreadful.

______________________

I was never a huge Imus fan. My interest, which was fraught with curiosity, was in his ability to attract such amazing guests: How did he manage to interview top celebs and heads of state? How did he so easily demystify the gods of culture and politics? News was often made on his show; John Kerry issued a mea culpa during the 2006 campaign season on the Imus show before appearing anywhere else.

But most of the time I was uncomfortable with his show, though I often loved what I learned from his guests. And, I admit, there were times, and not just a few, of comedic brilliance presented therein.

I defended Mr. Imus last year because I felt he was the victim of a crude double standard; I believed his silencing was a threat to free speech. But I shouldn't have been so quick to defend him.

____________________

Here is something I very much resent about current race relations in the United States. If I say I am not a racist -- I am not a racist -- why must I turn to African-Americans for vindication? If I assert I haven't a racist bone in my body, why am I only permitted moral authority by blacks who judge me?

When Don Imus made his gaffe, his first reaction was to run to Al Sharpton, effectively begging him for absolution and affirmation: he sought a black man's imprimatur. But why? Why is any white man's racial moral health contingent on what someone else thinks? In a world where we hear much about not judging others, why is racial purity only the purview of blacks: why are the likes of Jeremiah Wright and Al Sharpton the only worthy priests to hear confession and offer absolution? Why are they judges? Why is my own self-assessment insufficient?

Don Imus declared immediately that he was not a racist, and then instantly doubted his own conviction. He ran to the priests of race, and they dispensed their great graces.

____________________

Author Shelby Steele, a black intellectual born of a white mother, wrote in his book about Barack Obama, A Bound Man, that Don Imus' response to his crisis was to run directly toward the "challengers" who control much of the African-American political bloc, seeking their blessing. Imus, or so Mr. Steele argued, was eager to regain his moral authority on race by beseeching blacks to return it to him. To Steele, Imus fell prey to white guilt, and would be the weaker for it. Imus became the great appeaser, the iconic placater.

But note what Mr. Steele says in this sentence that immediately precedes chapter 9, "The Iconic Negro":

"If Imus ever returns to the airways, his operation will no doubt be swathed in diversity."

Mr. Steele could not have been more prescient. For that is exactly what Mr. Imus has done, and in the process, he has created a show that is paralyzed, insipid, self-conscious and humorless. His two African-American sidekicks are absolutely unfunny; I have not once laughed at a single one of their contributions. The show is stiff with fear; it is rife with scripted humor burdened by politically correct rubrics. Moreover, it is gratuitously obsequious: it is racially self-righteous to a didactic smugness. It is at times a sort of Sesame Street for grown-ups: "Today's lesson girls and boys ..." You get the idea. And it is not worth getting.

____________________

When I think of great comedians, at least those who have made me laugh throughout my life, I think of people like Steven Wright, who is unquestionably my favorite comedian of all time. I loved Victor Borge and Red Skelton and Johnny Carson; I loved Steve Martin's stand-up and Jerry Seinfeld's simple deliveries.

But when I was a child I loved the zaniness of Sammy Davis Jr.; I remember telling my mother and sister that I wanted to be Sammy Davis Jr. I also loved (I never missed a show) the inimitable Flip Wilson. Redd Foxx was another fave; and later in life I enjoyed Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy (though their arena sets were usually too vulgar for me, as are some of Robin Williams' [a white guy, I know]).

The reason I share this is because as a child of the 1960s, I was raised virtually blind to race: I did not even think that Sammy Davis Jr. was black. I simply loved him. And Flip Wilson. And countless other black men and women who have blessed my soul, and made me laugh (or taught me something vital). Sadly, somewhere along the line I was forced to look at race, to see skin color. And yet because of many wonderful influences in my life, racism did not take hold. This despite those in America who see racism in every white face, who believe that whiteness is not merely emblematic of racism but is genetically imbued with racism.

Don Imus has placed two black comedians on his team, Karith Foster and Tony Powell, and they are not funny (white comic Rob Bartlett has not been particularly funny either). They are not even interesting. Sorry. But there is no suggestion here that they are humorless or uninteresting because they are black; blackness, after all, hardly comes through -- does it? -- the radio (I have watched the program on RFD-TV). They are uninteresting because they, as Thomas Sowell might say, appear to be "token blacks," placed as buffers for Imus' moral purity and watchdogs for all racial missteps. They sit around Imus almost like pets, even mascots (Sowell's word). They appear almost trapped and apprehensive; they look like they'd really rather be somewhere else.

For me, then, Don Imus' return represents more of what I hate about the "dialogue on race" in America. Imus's allegedly diverse staff is not about liberty or equality; there is something brutally oppressive about what Imus has done, is doing. It does not strike me as progressive, not one whit. And this is not only too bad, it is a bit ironic, because Imus has rather recently expressed surprise about all he is learning of race relations in America from such facilitators as Dick Gregory and Debra J. Dickerson. The irony is that there is no real dialogue, only a monologue. If Mr. Imus was really interested in dialogue, then his guest list would include both Shelby Steele and Thomas Sowell. I don't think either man has made an appearance. And they should appear -- regularly.

In the end, I am tired of the apparent cultural necessity of someone like Jesse Jackson, Dick Gregory, Jeremiah Wright or even Barack Obama coming to dispense the sacrament of racial absolution on me because of the color of my skin. If I say I love peas, I don't need a nutritionist to confirm my assertion. If I claim to love Bach, I don't need that claim descried by a baroque historian. If I say I am a fan of U2's Bono, Bono need not check in to see if I meet his standards. And if I claim I am not a racist, I don't need someone to ensure I am not deceiving myself. I can, after all, speak for my own heart.

Just some thoughts in this allegedly high time of racial dialogue in America.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Ex Libris Contratimes

I've read six books since Christmas, four of which were Christmas gifts and five of which I would like to recommend.

For readers interested in the atheism/theism debate, there is hardly a better book than There Is A God: How the World's Most Notorious Atheist Changed his Mind, by Antony Flew and Roy Abraham Varghese. Flew is the aforementioned notorious atheist, and I'll dare say his arguments will have atheists in a bind. I'll further state that his book -- even if ultimately wrong -- sets atheism back at least a decade ... once the full impact of what his book represents is realized.

Also, the appendices in the book are outstanding, particularly Church of England bishop N. T. Wright's wonderful defense of the resurrection of Christ. While the book is a great read, Wright's addition is a must-read.

Theodore Dalrymple's amazing little book, In Praise of Prejudice: The Necessity of Preconceived Ideas, is refreshing in its common sense and invigorating in its brisk walk through the pitfalls of prejudice, and the foolishness of most attempts to purge prejudice from the human mind. The quick pace of this finely-wrought work explores the silly ideal that the highest good of any man is to dwell on the land without prejudice. Dalrymple argues that even biology equips humans for survival's sake with the habit of prejudice; and while he notes that racial prejudice is a gross mistake, the far greater mistake is to think that the absence of prejudice of any kind is a sign of moral authenticity, health and superiority. It simply isn't it, and the absurdities around this allegedly noble goal lead us to all sorts of moral confusion, including excusing a man for being a crook or lout because he is free of prejudice.

Connected to Dalrymple's beautifully written work is Shelby Steele's White Guilt: How Blacks and Whites Together Destroyed the Promise of the Civil Rights Era. For me, this is the only book I've read in a long time that I would describe as transformative. I can hardly tell you what was good about it since the book has left me nearly speechless. If anything, let me say that it made me realize that I -- raised in the public school system in the 1960s in northern New Jersey and in the '70s in southwestern New Hampshire -- was sold a whole boat of load junk about the white and wise solution regarding racism. My "white guilt" is both misbegotten and misplaced; Shelby Steele -- a "conservative" black man born of a white mother -- has shattered something in me I did not know even existed. My eyes have been opened: They have been lying to us. And I've been lying to myself -- unwittingly!

Steele's book is not perfect; and although I think he creates a dilemma -- especially for white Americans -- that he does not see, his work is so brilliant, so beautifully and powerfully brilliant, I believe it deserves a place in the great books list. You will see things about yourself and American politics and education you did not see before. I promise.

What higher praise can I give a work than to say it transformed me? Perhaps I can say that it stopped me in my tracks. (My wife, who passed this book along to me, considers Steele one of the bravest men in America. I think she's right.)

Falling in perfect harmony with White Guilt is Michael Gerson's lucid and well-written Heroic Conservatism: Why Republicans Need to Embrace America's Ideals (And Why They Deserve To Fail if They Don't). Gerson, as some of you know, is the Wheaton College-educated former speechwriter for President George W. Bush. (If you are not aware, Wheaton [Ill.] College is arguably America's premier evangelical college, and is a great school.)

I liked most of this book, if for no other reason than it revealed to me the presidential power that a speechwriter possesses. Gerson is indeed a great speechwriter; but his influence on the presidency was nothing short of astounding. He, not Bush, is responsible for many of the most memorable phrases from the formative years of the Bush presidency: Bush, ultimately, may own these phrases, but Gerson (and his team) is the brain inside the teleprompter. And what an interesting, lucid brain it is! While I found myself disagreeing with Gerson in the book's opening chapters, I also found myself mostly swayed by him by book's end. In fact, by the time I finished his book, I was thinking of changing careers, of finding a noble cause for which to fight. It is an inspiring book, and is a trenchant analysis of conservatism's heart. Gerson convinces me that that heart is getting better in most of the right ways.

Also, Gerson's back room view of the Bush presidency (Gerson was witness to a lot of really inside stuff) is revelatory. His description of President Bush is not one-whit idolatrous. He is critical in all the right areas. It's just that he manages not only to humanize the president, he manages to show a man who is strikingly heroic in many ways and will never be noted for it among the media or ruling classes. After all, Bush policies -- at least his foreign efforts -- are some of the most noble and boldest in decades. The War on Terror -- which is really the institution of democracy and liberty everywhere neither is known -- is the most obvious of Bush's efforts; but his generous help in addressing poverty, malaria, and AIDS in Africa largely goes unnoticed. Gerson shows not only why these smaller things were necessary, but how good they are for our world.

Lastly, I very much liked Frederick Buechner's tiny little volume, Speak What We Feel (And Not What We Ought To Say). Buechner examines the key work of four writers -- poet and priest Gerard Manley Hopkins, William Shakespeare, Mark Twain, G.K. Chesterton -- exploring what it means for these men to have written their greatest works "in blood." Buechner delves into the darkest hours of these men, their great intellectual and spiritual struggles with demons past and present, and how they, in effect, wrote themselves free of all that threatened to bind them. The Twain chapter was very touching to me, as was the chapter on Chesterton. Great stuff about some of my very favorite writers.

In closing, all these books have one thing in common. I will read them again.

(The other book I read, if you are wondering, was G. K. Chesterton's glorious The Man Who Was Thursday. I have read it many times before.)

Peace this day.

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.