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I don’t want to seem overly intellectual about the Zimmerman trial, because I am angry about it, but I can report a relevant discussion in today’s Summer Institute of Civic Studies seminar. We have been reading thousands of pages about democratic theory, community organizing, social movements, Gandhi, etc. One question that arose this morning is whether we ought to be discouraged. All this talk about bottom-up strategies for social change, and yet the available strategies seem rather unpromising in the aftermath of the trial.
One response is that the Trayvon Martin case actually became national news only because of the skillful and organized efforts of civil rights groups. Thus it is not the case that a news event occurred and we are unable to do much about it. People first made the killing into a news event. Then again, there may be something fundamentally disempowering about “news” defined as that which is new and transitory. In some ways, the important thing about the Martin case is that it is not news.
We had read John Dewey in The Public and its Problems:
“News” signifies something which has just happened, and which is new just because it deviates from the old and regular. But its meaning depends upon relation to what it imports, to what its social consequences are. This import cannot be determined unless the new is placed in relation to the old, to what has happened and been integrated into the course of events. Without coordination and consecutiveness, events are not events, but mere occurrences, intrusions; an event implies that out of which a happening proceeds. Hence even if we discount the influence of private interests in procuring suppression, secrecy, and misrepresentation, we have an explanation of the triviality and “sensational” quality of so much of what passes as news. The catastrophic, namely, crime, accident, family rows, personal clashes and conflicts, are the most obvious forms of breaches of continuity; they supply the element of shock which is the strictest meaning of sensation; they are the new par excellence, even though only the date of the newspaper could inform us whether they happened last year or this, so completely isolated are they from their connections.
To be sure, many writers are busy placing the Martin case in broad historical perspective. Searching for Emmett Till and Trayvon Martin yields 233,000 web results, although the most prominent bear headlines like “Liberals shamelessly liken Trayvon Martin to Emmett Till.” These search results show that the broad context is being contested and debated. The question is whether that focus can be sustained in any useful way given the definition of “news” as what’s new. In other words, what happens after the Zimmerman trial moves down and then off news websites?
Another issue that are readings have addressed is the question of “root causes.” I would subscribe to the theory that racism was at the root of the Martin case. But it is a different question whether an effective citizen should generally confront causes understood to be “roots.” The word “radical” means a concern with roots; and traditionally, radicals have been the ones who advocate dealing with the root causes of problems: the control of property in Marxism, race in critical race studies. But Roberto Mangabeira Unger argues that presuming an immutable connection between one underlying cause and its consequences limits human imagination and strategic options. This limitation was most clearly displayed in the record of the communist states, which abolished the one cause they saw as a “root,” private property, but hardly innovated at all when it came to politics. They borrowed their committees, secretaries and general secretaries, police forces and jails, newspapers, and even industrial corporations from the old regime. The results were predictably bad.
Unger would advocate brainstorming all the possible changes we could make in the light of the Zimmerman verdict and then acting where we have the best chance of success. Confronting racism is one option, but not necessarily the most promising one. Abolishing “stand your ground laws” is another. But that’s just the beginning of the brainstorm. What about: investigatory grand juries whenever anyone is killed, truth and reconciliation commissions, restorative justice, enhanced rights to civil lawsuits in response to stand-your-ground killings, no guns for anyone, armed groups of black teenagers patrolling neighborhoods to deter crime, no jury trials, juries that are twice as large …?
Hope is a scarce but renewable resource, essential in times like the present. Unger would advise that limiting our responses to root causes is an obstacle to hope.
Finally, we discussed the question of nonviolence (having just read about Gandhi). My own view is that the line between violence and non-violence is not the essential question. The essential question is how to act effectively while setting strict limits on one’s means of action, because otherwise we tend to escalate until the results are tragic. The rule, “I will not cause physical harm to you even if you harm me” is not a moral imperative all on its own. (Physically harming someone lightly is not as cruel as financially ruining them.) But nonviolence creates a relatively bright line that prevents unplanned escalation, which is almost always disastrous.
Your points about the discussion of the Martin/Zimmerman tragedy are important, Peter. I’d add several others.
One question is how this tragedy can be an occasion for broad political education that generates constructive politics. I don’t have an answer, but the Institute is a good place to think about this.
“Nonviolence” in the American context had strong kinship with political education that takes place in broad based community organizing. In community organizing, the concept and practice is called disciplined anger. It involves learning to be intentional, self-conscious, and strategic about expressing anger. “Only get angry on purpose, and be clear about whom to be angry at,” is the way Ernesto Cortes puts it. IAF discusses anger with reference to its root, “angr,” old Norse for grief.
Disciplining anger gives shape and direction to passions which are the most frequent motivators of people coming into public action – experience with deeply felt injustice. The “normal” reaction is protest, but this is very often quite ineffective. This is for the reasons you mention – attacking the “obvious” target is not necessarily the way to get at substantive solutions. It’s also because a much more effective response is what might be called schooling for cultural leadership.
People who are seen as relatively poor and powerless often gain their most power not by dramatizing their victimhood but by framing issues in ways that have broad, majoritarian appeal. This was, for instance, the great “discovery” in the Minnesota United for All Families remarkably successful campaign against the constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage in 2011-12; they found – after 30 such amendments had passed in different states – that asking people why they opposed gay marriage surfaced themes (including the importance of love, marriage and commitment) that hadn’t at all been part of the pro-gay marriage sides messaging in earlier fights. Earlier fights had focused on rights and discrimination and benefits packages, and they had also demonized the opposition. Richard Carlbom, the campaign director, told my Humphrey seminar this spring that the thing he learned was “a politics of empowerment beats a politics of victimization.” They also adapted many organizing practices from the Obama 2008 campaign.
The other point, almost entirely unremarked as far as I know, is that nonviolence in the American context, the civil rights movement, its only expression on a substantial scale, came through the wedding of traditional nonviolent philosophy and popular front politics from the 1930s (not, as is most often assumed, through the example of Gandhi, except that the Indian case showed possibility). The key figure was Bayard Rustin, who had been in the Young Communist League in the 1930s, during the Popular Front period, and also executive secretary to A. Philip Randolph, the great trade union leader, who had a strong “popular front” type of politics – building broad alliances. Rustin schooled King in nonviolence during the Montgomery Bus Boycott (spending a lot of time there, as well as raising money). He was also a Quaker, and had been a conscientious objector during WWII. I’m sure he saw nonviolence as not only a philosophy but also as a disciplining political education.
All of this took shape in a large scale in the Citizenship Education Program of SCLC, which shaped me as a young man. The core theme – which was really a cultural organizing theme as well as a community organizing one – was shift in identify from “victim” to “agent of change.” In a story that badly needs remembering today, African Americans in the South – marginalized, invisible, scorned by many – became civic role models for the nation, and their overarching theme, as King put it was “bringing the whole country back to the great wells of democracy dug deep by the founding fathers.”
Harry Boyte