White Friends, Black Friends: The Personal Nature of Racial Politics

We have been working together for over eight years now. We come from different backgrounds (personally and professionally), but we share a common vision for advancing racial justice by learning (and sharing) through employing the most contemporary social science research theories and methods to the study of race, politics and communication. As regular TWIR readers know, we try to provide a unified perspective on current events in this space each week. That is, except in very rare circumstances, we put forth analysis here that is a representation of our collective thoughts and application of social science research. Occasionally, however, we write separately, either because we disagree with one another (see here and here, for instance) or because the topic is primarily relevant from one of our perspectives (see here or here).

THIS WEEK, Charlton provides his unique perspective on interracial friendships in this era of heightened awareness of race and racism. It's not that Stephen has nothing to offer to this discussion (after all, he has interracial friendships – Charlton being the most valued – as well), but as you will discover, what Charlton has to say represents a perspective that we decided is best presented from his voice alone. As always, we look forward to your thoughtful comments.

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Race. Politics. Race politics. The politics of race. Identity politics.

Former House Speaker Tip O’Neill is perhaps most famous for popularizing the phrase, “all politics is local.” Those of us who venture into that tangled web where race and politics intersect are especially reminded that all politics is also, personal. In fact, no politics are more personal than racial politics (and the politics of gender and sexual orientation are equally so).

Today’s electoral politics are – in the words of Thomas Hobbes – nasty, brutish and short. But at the end of the day, there is a winner and a loser. Life goes on as the thrill of victory eventually ebbs for the former as the sting of defeat does for the latter. Members of Congress do legislative battle with competing bills, ingenious maneuvers, pointed hearings where they skewer opposing colleagues and roast them with fiery floor speeches meant to paint their adversaries as the worst among us – from heartless baby killers to Machiavellian demagogues and all else in between. Still, they emerge able to shake each other’s hands, extol the virtues of bipartisanship, and then share slippery oysters and a sip of whiskey at Old Ebbitt’s.

Those of us who willfully surround ourselves with the critical minutiae that race bring to everyday life sometimes like to think we are playing the same game.

From the verbal beat-downs we apply to modern racial rabble-rousers like Rush Limbaugh, Michelle Malkin or Glenn Beck (I specify “verbal,” lest any of these folks mistake me for just some Black thug like Barack Obama who inspires Black violence against White people), to the daily debates we engage in over controversial race-based social policies like affirmative action, school desegregation or health care. From our heated discussions on national television designed to convince the public of the folly and fallacies of post-racialism, colorblind ideology and the like to our attempts to get youthful undergraduates to understand the subtleties of modern racism, persistent discrimination, and notions of White privilege, we (more a personal projection than a factual generalization) often like to think that we can immerse ourselves in these murky waters and emerge unsullied and unaffected. We sometimes fool ourselves into believing that our engagement with the stuff of racial politics is a wholly intellectual enterprise – participation in a kind of rational discourse from which we can simply redirect our attention when we wish not to talk about it anymore. We sometimes like to think that what we do and what we talk about exists primarily in that mystical abstract world of ideas.

Then sometimes, we are reminded that the political is the personal when it comes to talking about race. Sometimes we are reminded that despite the hordes of protesters hurling racial insults while the whole world watches, despite all of the “liberal media’s” talk of racism replete in today’s conservative rhetoric, despite our penchant to talk about the broad, statistical realities of racial inequality, skyrocketing incidences of racial violence, increased accusations of workplace discrimination and the like – our discussion about race often comes down to those most basic features of everyday conversation: two people, face-to-face (or what passes for it in our electronic age), talking about something that matters to them – personally.

* * *

Thanks to Facebook, I have recently been back in touch with people from what seems like a different life – particularly, folks from the conservative, Baptist, predominantly White college I attended and from which I graduated nearly twenty years ago. In that much time, some things – some people – change, and some things and people remain the same.

For me, college was a continuation of high school, where learning and learning to be liked alternated and competed for top billing on my life’s marquee of personal goals. (I completed college with a 2.7 GPA, so it is clear which one prevailed.) Where I grew up – on military bases in a city with a large minority population – racial diversity was as ubiquitous as MTV . My schools ranged from being 98% Mexican-origin to highly diverse, though slightly majority-White. So when I showed up for college in the middle of Oklahoma, on a campus where I could count the number of people who looked like me on two – okay, maybe three or four hands – I was a bit taken aback.

But I knew one thing: you do not make friends talking about race, racism, racial discrimination and the like. So I did not (talk about it, much), and I did (make friends). When a few of the women from the campus’s small Black Student Union asked me to join them at one of their meetings, I smiled, said okay, and quickly forgot about the fact that I never intended to go. Who wants to be part of the militant crowd when there are parties to go to, fun to be had, women to meet?

The reality, of course, was that I was not always able to avoid difficult discussion about race. But those are different stories for a different time. For the most part, I became a model for all our colorblind dreams. I even had one of those red, yellow, green “Love Sees No Color” t-shirts that were popular in the early nineties and wore it with pride, hoping forever to avoid those uncomfortable moments having to confront the issue of race.

Fast forward almost two decades. Facebook. Becoming new friends with old ones, eager to see how everyone turned out, these friends and acquaintances – many of whom I hadn’t seen or heard from since we walked across the graduation stage.

In the heat of the moment – post 2008 election, the beginning of the nastiness of the health care debate, amidst the discussion surrounding Henry Louis Gates’s run in with Cambridge cops, surrounded by birthers, hordes of “I want my country back,” protesters, yelling "communist, communist, communist" in the streets about everyone from Barack Obama on down to almost every Black person in or nominated for cabinet posts – I just could not help turning my personal Facebook page (not to be confused with the RaceProject Facebook page) into a site for political warfare. I posted articles of interest about race. I posted my own published or on-air commentary. I responded to comments made by my some of my new and old friends.

At some point, I looked over at my running count of friends. 666. Hmmmm. I could have sworn I was up close to the 850 mark. Seems that some of my friends were steadily peeling away, and I began to notice how I – like everyone else – had begun to take this race talk very personally.

"With the possibility of a recited "I pledge myself to President Obama" being in there, you're damn right I'm concerned. Bush never asked that. Clinton never asked that. Regan never asked that. There are three acceptable entities to which one may pledge oneself: God, Country, Family. To ease the confusion, Obama is NOT country."

An old friend – a college friend and post-college roommate actually – threw this my way when I explained my utter disbelief that anyone would question the President of the United States talking to children in a televised address. I brushed it off without delving further into the matter. The following came a few days later, when I questioned Conservative attacks against Van Jones and his eventual resignation, saying that I thought it was shame when good people are victims of such witch-hunt-style political rhetoric.

"It's a shame when good, intelligent people are willfully blind to or willfully ignorant of what's right in front of them."

I jumped further into the conversation on this one. The rest of the conversation went something like this:

Me: Willfully blind or ignorant. I'm giving the benefit of the doubt that you were talking about some other group of unknown and unspecified folks, not me.

Him: Sorry, my friend. I may not be able to debate the topics well, but I've never shied away from anything. I've watched Mr. Jones on CSPAN a few times (reruns, you know) and didn't have much issue with him other than all the green stuff. Nice as he seems to be, after his history coming to light, you have to be willfully *something* to think he's good for the country.

Me: Oh, well then. Please do let me know the next time this ignorant fool can be the beneficiary of your infallible wisdom! I'd hate to think I can actually think a reasonable thought and come up with a reasonable conclusion on my own!

Him: Don't play the passive aggressive game. It doesn't suit you. If you think a guy who signs things without reading them, who is an admitted communist and who really thinks green jobs are a viable way to save our nation... if you truely [sic] believe he's good for our nation, then do your best to educate me. Otherwise, the race card is an easy and obvious dismissal of the thoughts and opinions of people who disagree with you. I love reasonable thoughts and I love a good discussion. Bring it on. Make me do some work.

Me: I'm big, I'm Black and I'm overeducated. Many in your camp would say that aggression suits me just fine! Whether it does or doesn't won't get me to back down from the mote in the eye of folks like you who will cry that folks like me played the race card when you folks seem to always refuse to admit that race is ever a factor, that race may possibly . . . be a factor in any kind of political action, decision, personal preference or the like. That you can dismiss anything like me says anytime we venture to point out the possibility - however glaringly explicit or implicit it may be. So then, why don't you tell me which of the following you would consider to be an example of me NOT playing the race card?

What followed was a list of about 20 things that I challenged him to tell me whether I was – as I am and we are so often accused of – seeing race and racism in everything. He rose to the challenge. I have yet to respond. But the point of it all is simply that with all my talk of “conservatives this, and conservatives, that,” my friend was hearing all of my accusations and claims of conservative insolence as a personal affront. My talk of conservative racism was heard as, “you, my friend, are a racist, a bigot, etc.” and much of our conversation didn’t get beyond that. (Stephen and I wrote more about this a few weeks ago in this space when we talked of the idea of “racism fatigue.”)

I say all of this to remind us – myself really – that all conversation comes down to two people addressing each other. Good conversation is risky, sometimes difficult, sometimes painful, but often productive. On the one hand I WISH I could be like another old college friend of mine who regularly says things to me like, “I look at the values of the people and truly could care less about,” or, “I am sick of race being used...isn't this a Post Racial president...I talk about [race] more now than I ever have in my entire life!" or who sends me articles by Black people with titles such as “American Thinker: Why I am no longer an African American.”

While I am frustrated (both personally and professionally) by what I have been observing on the landscape of racial discourse in America today, I am also saddened because I cannot help but think that these White friends from years past were able to enjoy my company because we spent our time talking about football or music; I was not "acting so Black" back then. My ideas about race and racism have not changed, though, and my guess is that theirs have not either. The suggestion that I am somehow "different now" is predicated on a willingness on all of our parts to ignore the obvious, which was an arrangement that served all of our interests then. In that way, these friendships serve as a metaphor for America's collective relationship with racism. While I have no doubt that their friendship was genuine, I have to wonder whether, at least on a subconscious level, these folks were able to soothe themselves about their own deep-seated racial predispositions (which we all have) through my friendship. In other words, my presence in their lives enabled them to say, "I have a Black friend," which, for many, is as powerful evidence of not being racist as one needs (right alongside avoidance of the "n-word"). Did I (ironically) function as a racial quota, and am I less valuable now that I am active in pointing out that racism is more complicated that individual-level bigotry? Does their White privilege allow them to believe that since I think this way that they are correct and I am "wrong" (overly-sensitive, radical, out-of-touch with "real" America)?

I, too, sometimes wish that race was not such a necessary part of American social and political life. But people of color do not have the luxury of willing it to be so. On the other hand, I am reminded almost daily of the reality that when one talks about race with some folks, they will always hear – no matter how impersonal one tries to pitch the conversation – themselves being labeled and denigrated for being "a racist." Feelings are hurt, misunderstandings occur, time has to be spent easing bruised feelings. It is difficult, it is messy, it is – very personal.

Patient. . . and Radical

In sending out a recommendation for our blog last week, one of our Twitter friends, the very thoughtful @readingmachine, described us as "patient," which we took as a high compliment because we try to be measured and thoughtful about our offerings. It led us to consider the degree to which it is difficult to be both radical and patient in this political climate.

It is an appropriate time for us to be a little reflective, as we have just begun our fourth year of us writing this weekly blog. (Interestingly, it was at about this time last year when we felt it necessary to "defin[e] our role.") Of course, much has changed in America since we wrote about the start of the first season of Survivor in 2006, when the "tribes" were divided by race. Much has stayed the same, too. While we were by no means the first online writers to dedicate our space to race and politics, we were among only a small handful of such sites. Now the blogosphere is crowded with smart, thoughtful offerings on the subject. Back then, we had only a handful of readers, most of whom either knew us personally or were former students. We had the odd reader who thought we were full of it, but for the most part, the comments were civil and respectful; folks appreciated what we were doing, even if they disagreed with what we wrote.

But things today are much more heated with respect to our topic. Drew Westen, who is working on the cutting edge of political psychology research, wrote a must-read piece for Huffington Post this week where he explains how race has a way of leading to incivility in the way we communicate with one another. Joe Gerstandt wrote a thoughtful piece about how to find "sweetness," and the White House, which has wisely tried to deescalate the anger all summer by downplaying the role race has played, stayed on message this week, as President Obama suggested that race was not an issue in the opposition to his policies because he "was Black before the election."

To be fair, the overall political climate is probably not, overall, more hostile than it was in the fall of 2006, when progressives were outraged over some of President Bush's policies, but the hostility much more directly centers on race today. So when @readingmachine offered that we were "patient" and @Maevesmom, later in the week, advocated for "relentless etiquette," we were encouraged to reflect on THIS WEEK's events through that lens.

We have taken a bit of heat over the years from folks who are not familiar with (or simply disagree with) the goals and practices of folks who work in higher education. Specifically, we have been accused of being arrogant and elitist because we have consistently argued that it is the responsibility of scholars to be able to see the "big picture." While we cannot dismiss out of hand charges that we are -- individually or as a pair -- arrogant, we would like to offer that most folks in academia (including us) make a fraction of the money that people who went to school half as long make. Perhaps we are sensitive about it, but far from being reflective of self-importance, this fact is either a testament to our dedication to our profession or to our abject stupidity. Our guess is that whichever choice you prefer depends greatly on the degree to which you think we are on the mark with our analysis most weeks.

In any case, we put ourselves out there each week, which makes us a target for criticism, so we understand that withstanding those jabs is part of what we must expect. We explain to our family members who are troubled by such remarks that the attacks are not really personal, but that it is difficult to separate what we are doing from who we are; it is difficult for our critics, and it is difficult for us.

We are expected to be "patient" and to engage in "relentless etiquette"; our critics are not. Those who defend the status quo have always been, by definition, resistant to change. From flat earth defenders to slavery supporters to school integration resisters, there is a perpetual struggle between those pushing for more progress and those who think that we have made enough progress (and that any more would be "reverse discrimination"). But progress is not the same as equality, and while it is uncomfortable for many, those who fight for equality do not and cannot stop at each stage where progress has been made. Intellectual growth, like all growth, requires a tearing down before building back up. In this case, we need to tear down the myths of White supremacy and American meritocracy to expose systemic racism and help folks to understand that the precise use of language related to race is an important factor in determining whether we will continue to move forward or whether we have reached a nadir.

There is a name for such a push: radicalism. Those who seek fundamental changes to the system that created and perpetuates inequality (based on race, sex, etc.) understand that we need radical change. To most Americans, "radical" is synonymous with "extreme," but like "racism" the term has been (perhaps intentionally) diluted by those who wish for it to lose its power. By conflating the term "radical," the etymology of which is "by the root," with "extreme," defenders of the status quo have been able to push advocates for radical social justice to the margins of American political discourse. But if we use a metaphor of weeds, the difference is that we can continue to mow over or "weed whack" those little pesky buggers, or we can get down on our hands and knees, get a little bit dirty, and pull them out by the root so that they never grow back. That's radical, and that's what is needed to bring about social justice. (What that means in policy terms, however, is subject to debate and beyond the scope of this article.)

So is it possible to be patient and radical?

We hope so.

For the past eight years, we have engaged in social science research to help others (and ourselves) more fully understand the complexities of racism in American politics, particularly the ways that it is reflected in and moved along by language. But we started The Project on Race in Political Communication as a "project" because we always had a vision for our work that transcended the confines of the narrow academic communities within which we work. Part of our mission is to "share [scholarly] information with the mass public in an accessible way," which we do each week in this space.

Beginning this past summer, we also began to provide a place for folks to gather and discuss these issues (on our Facebook page and via our Twitter feed). In all of these endeavors, we have tried to create online space with an academic atmosphere that is a departure from most of the other politically-oriented online environments. To be fair, we have had some problems getting folks to appreciate that one must adjust one's behavior to the context. Just like we would not welcome the sort of screaming matches that characterize cable television news in our classrooms, we expect civil and respectful exchanges of ideas in our online learning communities. The physical space and power differentials that occur naturally in our classrooms make such expectations relatively easy to manage; online, however, it is much more difficult. Just this week, we were forced to issue a call for civility on our Facebook page because we began to notice that the sarcasm and "gotcha" comments that are so prominent in other online settings were starting to seep in. There are nearly 1,000 teacher-learners who look to that page for information and commentary on issues relating to race, politics and language, and we want to be sure to provide a safe environment for the thoughtful and respectful exchange of ideas without fear of bullying.

So while we appreciate that passions are running high, it is important to point out that academics do, in fact, have commitments and responsibilities that differ from non-academics, and that among them, being at once patient and radical is important.

Academics must view the world differently than journalists, who in turn must view the world differently from those who have no training in journalism. Just this week, Talking Points Memo writer Glenn Thrush had to apologize for taking a document sent to him by a political operative and including it in one of his columns without carefully checking the content. He appropriately noted that the responsibility did not rest with the party leader who sent him the information; that person's job is to spin, persuade and manipulate. While we can argue that everyone has a responsibility to be "truthful," the art of politics is about constructing reality, so we probably won't get too far with that argument. Journalists, however, have a responsibility of pulling back, checking sources, and striving for objectivity (which should not be confused with neutrality).

Academics have yet a different set of expectations. First, with respect to our research, the (often double-blind) peer review process is the step of the scientific method that is designed to ensure that the rigor that is expected in terms of methodology and theoretical development is reflected in our publications. Not long ago, one of our online critics rhetorically asked of a blog entry, "so this passes for academic rigor?" Certainly not! There is less editorial oversight for blogs than there is for media publications, let along academic publications. The work we do here does not significantly contribute to the professional evaluation of our work or promotion at our respective institutions, and it certainly would not pass for "scholarship" at either North Central College or New York University. What we offer here is an application of social scientific scholarship to current events. The peer review process moves (by design) much more slowly. Part of the challenge of teaching students in the 21st century is helping them to weigh information appropriately. If one of our blogs was listed as a scholarly source on a paper, we would certainly deduct points.

Second, as teachers we have a different set of expectations than those who are not teachers. Mark Edmundson wrote an excellent piece for the New York Times this week wherein he very eloquently explains why teachers must view the world differently from others:

Because really good teaching is about not seeing the world the way that everyone else does. Teaching is about being what people are now prone to call “counterintuitive” but to the teacher means simply being honest. The historian sees the election not through the latest news blast but in the context of presidential politics from George Washington to the present. The biologist sees a natural world that’s not calmly picturesque but a jostling, striving, evolving contest of creatures in quest of reproduction and survival. The literature professor won’t accept the current run of standard clichés but demands bursting metaphors and ironies of an insinuatingly serpentine sort. The philosopher demands an argument as escapeproof as an iron box: what currently passes for logic makes him want to grasp himself by the hair and yank himself out of his seat.

[. . . ]

Good teachers know that now, in what’s called the civilized world, the great enemy of knowledge isn’t ignorance, though ignorance will do in a pinch. The great enemy of knowledge is knowingness. It’s the feeling encouraged by TV and movies and the Internet that you’re on top of things and in charge. You’re hip and always know what’s up. Cool — James Dean-style cool — was once the sign of the rebel. But the tables have turned: conformity and cool have merged. The cool character now is the knowing one; even when he’s unconventional, he’s never surprising — and most of all, he’s never surprised. Good teachers, by contrast, are constantly fighting against knowingness by asking questions, creating difficulties, raising perplexities. And they’re constantly dramatizing their own aversion to knowingness in the way they walk and talk and dress — in their willingness to go the Lester Bangs route.

To be clear: we do not believe that Rachel Maddow, Glenn Beck, Keith Olberman or Rush Limbaugh have to adhere to any of the standards that we have explained herein. They are not scholars in the formal sense (though they are all quite bright), and they are not even journalists in their current roles. They can choose to be radical, or they can choose not to be. They can choose to be patient, or they can choose not to be. Their decisions on these elements must be driven by their personal preferences and motivations, not by any external standards that should be applied to them. That is not the case with us.

Like anyone who cares, we get angry, too. We just do not feel as if it is appropriate to bring that personal anger into any of the Race Project spaces without filtering it through our training and "the big picture." That is one of the reasons that, despite calls to publish here more frequently, we have resisted. We think that the ability to step back and not write quickly contributes to our ability to be patient. What we personally think -- as citizens -- is important, but it is only equally important to the thoughts of every other American. Our degrees and training and the fact that we have an audience does not translate into advanced moral worth or importance. To be sure, if we thought that way, we would, indeed, be quite arrogant. What we do is not "better" than what Lou Dobbs does; it is, however, different.

Of course, as someone pointed out on Twitter a few weeks ago, only those who have relative privilege have the luxury of "patience"; for many Americans who are on the business end of systemic oppression, real justice has been far too long in coming. Further, those who feel as if the power and relatively privilege that they have always knows is being threatened are also understandably impatient and anxious. In our middle-class positions, we can be patient with those who are not patient with us, even as we are impatient with how slowly progress is being made. It is a luxury we do not take for granted.

At the end of the day, folks who like the heat of battle and engaging in arguments rather than productive discourse can find literally thousands of such places online and, most recently, at town hall meetings. We hope, however, that folks who are looking for radical ideas that are presented with patience, will find a comfortable and supportive environment with us in the spaces we provide.

Racial Narcissism

As we are sure you are well aware, it was a very busy week in race. From President Carter's comments about Joe Wilson's outburst being reflective of racism (and Bill Cosby's support of that statement) to Rush Limbaugh's accusation that a White student being beaten by a group of Black teens on a school bus in Belleville, IL as a natural result of "Obama's America," there is much to discuss.

A lot of thoughtful analysis has already been put forth (see our Facebook page for an archive), so we will, as we generally do, try to step back and put the entire week into some context.

To do so, we offer an analogy in an attempt to capture the collective mindset of Whites who are understandably frustrated that they have been continually referred to as "racist." Last week, of course, we addressed their frustration with a concept we called "racism fatigue." THIS WEEK, we dig just a bit deeper to offer a look at "racial narcissism." This "disorder" is, we argue, a natural occurrence of being socialized into accepting a battery of (largely unspoken) "truths" about Whites and non-Whites.

We want to be very clear here that we are not using the term "narcissism" literally (i.e., in a clinical sense). That is, we are not saying that White people are all narcissists. Rather, we offering an extended metaphor to help characterize the way that Whites who are not bigots have collectively reacted to accusations of racism. This is not a diagnosis, and it is most definitely not designed to be an attack of any sort. To the contrary, our overarching argument is that until we understand that being referred to as "racist" is not an insult but a statement of fact about the internalized, largely subconscious acceptance of White supremacy that is applicable to everyone (irrespective of race) who is socialized in a racist culture, we cannot move forward. That is why we advocate using "racist" only as an adjective -- it describes all of us but does not define any of us. (It is what we are, not who we are.) We should reserve the word "bigot" for those who engage in overt displays of racist animosity (and who are not coy or embarrassed about those feelings). No one should ever be called "a racist," as using the term this way detracts greatly from the importance of the word as a marker of systemic power and institutionalized oppression.

According to the most current edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV), a personality disorder is defined as "[a]n eduring pattern of inner experience and behavior that deviates markedly from the expectation of the individual's culture, is pervasive and inflexible, has an onset in adolescence or early adulthood, is stable over time, and leads to distress or impairment." Without belaboring the individual points too much, this nicely characterizes much of White America in the Obama era.

The difficulty of helping folks to understand systemic racism is reflective of the enduring quality of racial narcissism. Because non-bigoted Whites do not believe that they or people like them are racist but rather operate under the assumption of equality, there is clear deviation from the expectation of our culture. We expect that everyone is equal, so when our (or others') racist behavior deviates from that expectation, there is a violation of norms (what Tali Mendelberg has called "the norm of racial equality"). This behavior is pervasive in the sense that it characterizes all Americans (not just White Americans -- see the oft-cited Kenneth Clark "dolls" experiment for just one vivid example). Racism is certainly stable over time. Bigotry, however, is not. While no one can deny the progress that has been made from the 1600s to the 1800s to the 1960s to today, it is important to remember that progress is not the same as equality. White folks in America are still much more likely to "succeed" on any number of indicators than people of color because of systemic racism. Racial narcissism clearly leads to distress and/or impairment for Whites and persons of color. The one element of the definition that strains the analogy is the fact that an individual personality disorder has an onset in adolescence or early adulthood, whereas recent developmental psychology literature suggests that racism is learned much earlier (conservatives flipped over the most recent Newsweek cover story on this issues).

So far, however, we have only explained how racism can be conceptualized as a collective personality disorder (to the extent that we collectively have a cultural "personality"). Narcissism is but one personality disorder, and its specific characteristics are similarly applicable.

From the DSM IV:

Someone who suffers from Narcissistic Personality disorder (NPD) has at least 5 of the following characteristics:

1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)
2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)
4. requires excessive admiration
5. has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations
6. is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends
7. lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others
8. is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her
9. shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

We will not go through each of these (you're welcome). Some of them are self-evident, and at this point, we are confident that you get the idea. We will leave it to your comments to elaborate or refute individual points, but while no analogy is ever perfect, we hope that this one works as analogies should -- to make a point by activating understanding of something more salient (in this case, individual behavior) to something somewhat less familiar (systemic racism).

Part of the reason that systemic racism is so unfamiliar (in thought -- it's quite familiar in experience, we just aren't always aware of the name for it) is that our primary reference text for language, the dictionary, does not generally distinguish between individual-level bigotry and systemic racism. Indeed, on a number of occasions folks have argued against our argument to disentangle the terms because "racism" is listed in a power-neutral way in most dictionaries.

Harry Allan, the "media assassin," ran into this issue THIS WEEK as he was criticized for his take on the Kanye West controversy from the MTV Video Music Awards. Allan responded to a critic in a follow-up post titled, "'Why Can't Black People Be Racist?': A Brief Primer on White Supremacy." It's a thoughtful piece (as usual) that would be largely unnecessary if dictionaries would accurately describe racism as having a power component to it.

Similarly, Jesse Washington wrote a piece for the Associated Press that centers on the all-too-common "cry wolf" allusion. Washington wisely ask, "if everyone is racist, is anyone?" If the appropriate conceptualization of the term is adopted (i.e., "racism" refers to systemic and internalized, subconscious White supremacy), the answer is "yes." By the colloquial (and dictionary) definition, however, the answer is more complicated. Everyone is not a bigot, but some folks are. Folks who are not bigots, however, are racist, too, and have the same burden (irrespective of race) as everyone else to honestly, meaningfully and radically deal with racism. The "cry wolf" criticism only holds if racism is conceptualized as individual-level rather than systemic. If it is appropriately conceptualized as systemic, it is impossible to "cry wolf" because the wolf, indeed, is always actually there!

A fair question at this point would be, "Hey RaceProject guys: who the hell do you think you are, trying to change the dictionary?!" Our response would be, "Who else?"

We are not suggesting, of course, that we alone are best qualified to influence such an important reference book. But who, if not scholars in their respective areas, should be influential on shaping the denotation of complicated constructs that lexicographers consider as they go about their work? And, we must add, we did not (by a long shot) invent the conceptual difference between these terms. The distinction is understood so well by academics who study race and ethnicity that it is virtually assumed in those conversations. But as race has moved back into the forefront of White consciousness over the past few years and the Internet has provided more material about the topic, we have been persistent in our demand for the language to catch up with the concept.

This is an important point. Folks like us who argue that "racism" and "bigotry" should be distinct terms are not arguing that the concepts should be distinct. They already are distinct. That is not a point of contention. What is being advocated here is that our language must be precise enough to capture the conceptual differences. Part of getting treatment for a disorder involves recognizing that one has the disorder. If non-bigoted Whites do not feel as if they are racist because they understand the term to mean conscious resentment for persons of color, they are not likely to seek the much-needed "treatment." This, too, is reflective of collective racial narcissism.

To that point, Joanna Ashmun notes that "[n]arcissists rarely enter treatment and, once in treatment, progress very slowly. . . .It's difficult to keep narcissists in treatment long enough for improvement to be made -- and few people, narcissists or not, have the motivation . . . to pursue treatment that produces so little so late."

The "treatment" in our analogy is reflection about the power and complexity of racism and our inability to fully come to terms with it so that we can dismantle it. Well-meaning White folks have spent the last couple of decades stomping their feet and covering their ears while screaming that everyone is equal, that we/they are color blind, and that we/they have Black friends. There is a steadfast refusal for us to get treatment for our collective disorder.

Like personality disorders, however, racism is not the "fault" of the culture who suffer from it. As Whites are quick to point out, no one in America today ever owned a slave, and few have even engaged in conscious discrimination of a person of color. Much of our resistance to our own racism comes from an unwillingness to take responsibility for its existence. But we do not have to take such responsibility. We do have to recognize, however, that once it is revealed to us, we must deal with it with honesty, focus and persistence. We cannot continue to ignore the uncomfortable reality of our collective ignorance. There has never been a more opportune time to seek treatment. We can leave our guilt at the therapist's doorstep and work together (not against one another) to better understand our collective condition so that we can move forward.

Racism Fatigue

In 1998, Susan Moeller published Compassion Fatigue: How the Media Sell Disease, Famine, War and Death, in which she explains that media coverage of these types of stories contributes to the tendency of Americans to divert our attention from worldwide human suffering. Moeller helps us to understand that the ways issues are presented determines the degree to which folks will continue to be responsive. As we work our way through the administration of the nation's first Black president, it is important to consider whether Americans are experiencing "racism fatigue."

THIS WEEK, we wrote an article for OpEdNews wherein we explained the racial context for Congressman Joe Wilson's outburst during the president's health care address to a joint session of Congress Wednesday night. If you are interested, we encourage you to jump over there and give it a read. Essentially, we explained that the persistent characterization of Barack Obama as "other" by his opponents has established a context within which behavioral norms can be dismissed. Just this week, it meant that Joe Wilson could hurl an insult during a formal address and that some parents could pull their kids out of school rather than have them listen to the president give a speech (the contents of which were released in advance) about working hard and getting an education.

The response to our article surprised us a bit. Some folks were frustrated that we stopped short of calling Wilson's actions racially motivated (TWIR readers know that we almost never speculate on intent) while others chastised us for invoking race at all. There was a lot of Internet chatter about Wilson's past behavior regarding race since his outburst, and that may be of interest to South Carolina voters or others who are determined to expose him as a bigot (we have chosen to not even link to that material here). We read that material and appreciate its value; it is just not central to what we think matters most.

In fact, we believe that the "gotcha" practice of trying to out bigots can be counterproductive because it tacitly reinforces the notion that "racism" is primarily about individual hatred of persons of color. While those who are bold enough to be open about their resentment of persons of color ought to be recognized as having conscious attitudes that set them apart from most of the American public, overt bigotry represents only a fraction of racial inequality in 21st century America. We ought not lose sight of bigoted occurrences, but we think it is most important to draw attention to the racial underpinnings in contemporary political discourse because that represents a more widespread and powerful current that is carrying along our centuries-old tradition of White supremacy.

But it can be quite tiring, indeed, for racially progressive folks, the millions who are genuinely trying to understand the roots of discrimination and White privilege. The more we folks who do this sort of work write, speak and advance sophisticated ideas about systemic racism, the more (and louder) defenders of the status quo put forth overly simplistic snippets that are easier to understand and, thus, believe.

Such reactions were on display this weekend as millions of (overwhelmingly) White folks gathered at rallies organized by political groups who oppose Barack Obama and/or his policy preferences. Joe Wilson was heralded as a hero at many of these gatherings as many noted that his outrage Wednesday night was justified because they, too, believe Obama is a liar. Further, the outburst was related to and consistent with their desire to keep "aliens" from having access to health care. They see no racism in labeling millions of Brown folks as "other" and subsequently (and angrily) preventing them from having access to what many believe to be a fundamental human right. Despite the fact that they have chosen to speak out so forcefully against government spending during the administration of the first Black president when two of their heroes -- Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush -- greatly contributed to the deficit during their presidencies, they see no racism in their position. Despite the fact that similar groups of Obama's opponents just a year ago brought stuffed monkeys, claimed that Obama was a Muslim and an Arab (which suggests that he is both a terrorist and a liar), yelled that he should go back to Africa, and engaged in myriad other bigoted behaviors, they see no racism in their position.

To the contrary, these folks, when asked about such underpinnings, become quite agitated, noting that the minuscule number of persons of color who agree with them is a coincidence, that they have a Black friend (seriously, this is often used as an alibi against any suggestion of internalized racism), and that it is Obama's supporters who are the real "racists." They are fatigued -- tired of always being called "racists."

This is also where the fatigue begins to surface on the part of advocates for racial justice. In the context of such anger and hostility, is it possible to explain to someone that "racism" is a systemic concept tied to White supremacy, not simply individual-level prejudice? Can one help a sign-waving, screaming, scared middle class White person to understand, in that moment, that 98% of their brain's activity takes place outside their consciousness, so ruling out racism as a factor is impossible? When fear and hostility are in full bloom, it is neither the time nor place to try to explain the complexities of human thought and behavior broadly, let alone neuroscience.

But where is the space for such discussion? All the world has become a tea party or town hall meeting for those who oppose President Obama.

That's why Joe Wilson screamed out. When Congressman Wilson apologized, he said, "I let my emotions get the best of me." At the end of this summer of anger, we are seeing the manifestation of a rhetorical climate that has painted Barack Obama as an "alien" himself. "I want my country back!" is heard at many of these gatherings. One wonders, from whom? From the "other" who has taken it, of course. From the man who does not look like other presidents looked. From the man who doesn't look like "us," like "America." From the man who is not really even American (so say "the birthers") and, therefore, is not even legitimately the president. From the man who will take care of people "like him" and seek retribution and/or reparations for slavery against Whites. From the Marxist/communist/socialist/fascist/terrorist man who used his Hitler-like oratory skills to fool Americans into electing him.

It is exhausting in its intensity and, quite frankly, its effectiveness.

White conservatives are genuinely tired, and while many of their criticisms of the president are not legitimate, we think that their fatigue is understandable. They are tired of being told that they are "racists" because they oppose a man who happens to be the nation's first Black president. They are tired of knowing, with all of their being, that they are not, in fact, "racist," even if they cannot always explain why they are so angry about this particular president. Most of them have worked for generations to use the appropriate term to describe Black Americans, moving from "colored" to "Black" to "African American" and now just resorting to just speaking the word more quietly than the rest of the sentence to avoid any perception of bigotry. They taught their children never to use the n-word, to give everyone an equal chance, irrespective of race or ethnicity, and they genuinely appreciate the diversity that has come to characterize their work spaces. For heaven's sake, some of these folks marched in the 1960s to end legalized segregation of schools and to bring about social justice in our laws! "What more," one can hear them shout, "are we supposed to do?! We have a Black president! That's not equal enough for you?! What more do 'you people' want!"

They're so damn tired.

But they are tired precisely because there is so much about racism that they do not understand. It is difficult for humans to understand that we cannot know what we do not know. It feels ("logically") that we are in control of our own brains. We are not. Perhaps the ultimate irony is that while we have made so much progress with respect to individual-level prejudice (even considering the backlash we are seeing now), we have much more work to do to help folks understand the complexity of systemic racism. It is very hard work -- not just to facilitate such discussion, but to engage in it. It is hurtful to realize that racism internalized from our culture is more powerful than explicit teachings to the contrary by our parents (or to our children). It is frustrating to think that we are on the right track, only to catch ourselves reaching for the door locks or feeling a tinge of fear or at least suspicion when a Black man approaches (this isn't just Whites, by the way). And it sure as hell is exhausting to worry about whether someone will call us "a racist" when we feel certain that our attitudes are not at all rooted in racism.

Racism fatigue is not new, but we are seeing a widespread outbreak in 2009.

Joe Wilson's emotions got the best of him. Indeed, much of the political psychology research has revealed the false dichotomy between emotion and reason that Enlightenment-era philosophers put forth (privileging the latter over the former, of course). It is unrealistic (and, we would argue, unwise) to ask folks to take emotion out of their political decision-making. After all, we tend to appreciate emotions that lead to outcomes that we embrace. (Progressives want folks to feel empathy, for instance, so that more socially just policies are adopted.) We find nothing wrong with the fact that Joe Wilson feels strong emotions about making preventative health care available to those who cannot afford it, even if our emotions on the subject are quite different from his.

Further, we find the tangential discussions surrounding his act to be distractions from the primary point (health care reform) and our point (the racial context for the outburst). That is, we do not particularly care whether the action was consistent with practices of the British House of Commons during Prime Minister's Questions or whether the president was actually lying. Those are fair items to consider in a broad discussion of the incident, but shouting insults has not been and is not the custom in the U.S. Congress -- whether the president is there or not -- even if the he was not telling the truth.

The folks at the rallies this weekend hold anti-reform attitudes that are similar to those held by folks who opposed civil rights reform a half century ago. White Southerners were tired of being told that they were "bad people" for expecting Blacks to live their lives separately from Whites. They were tired of uppity Blacks telling them anything, in fact. And they were tired of White Northerners talking about them like they were unenlightened bumpkins. They knew the truth, and they were tired of being told otherwise. They wanted their country back. The parallels to the current fight for civil rights (of which the extension of health care to all is but one part) are striking.

So how do we overcome racism fatigue? The first step, we propose, is to do our best to continue to be persistent about the effects of systemic racism but also continue to be diligent about explaining that pointing it out is not an insult. "Racist" is an adjective; it ought not be used as a noun because doing so drains it of its power. Here's why: First, calling someone "a racist" (noun) suggests that he or she is aware of his or her racist attitudes; that may or may not be the case. We can almost never prove intent because those who are intentionally bigoted know how to maintain plausible deniability. It is a no-win situation. Second, using the word as a noun permits defenders of the status quo to turn it around and use it to describe anti-White attitudes (see the sign from this weekend's rally in Washington, DC, above, for example), which rhetorically forces the concept into the neutral position. Anti-White prejudice exists (and, we believe, should be vigorously opposed), but is not nearly as dangerous as racist attitudes because it carries with it no systemic power. When "racism" becomes understood simply as any resentment based on skin color, the true power and effect of racism is lost. It is possible to identify racism without tying that concept to the intent of one or more individuals. When people stop feeling as if they are being called "racists," they may be more open to understanding the way racism really works.

Even so, it may be too late, or the context might be wrong. White folks of all political persuasions, by and large, want to believe that Barack Obama's election signaled the end of American racism -- Dr. King's dream realized. If we are in a "post-racial" period, it is not appropriate to bring race into the discussion; those who do are "playing the race card." So, in effect, there has been a cruel shift in culture such that those fighting for racial justice are accused of actually perpetuating injustice. Who wins in such a circumstance? Defenders of the status quo, of course, because no further progress can be made.

The problem, though, with arguing that this may not the right time to be pushing harder is that White folks are not the only ones with racism fatigue -- those who have been on the receiving end of American racism for generations are quite tired, too, and have been for some time. We have to push, and we have to push wisely, not just strategically. We have to raise consciousness and understanding about the complexities and destruction of systemic racism. We understand that conservative Whites are tired and that progressives are feeling tired, too, but now is not the time to rest. The stakes remain high for those who are harmed by racism: all of us.

Don't Talk to Strangers: Obama as Other

It is wise advice for parents to tell their children not to talk to strangers. It was not until THIS WEEK, however, that such an admonishment was applied to listening to a speech by the president of the United States.

Barack Obama plans to give a "back to school" address on Tuesday "about the need to work hard and stay in school." In such a polarized political context, it is refreshing to have a visible leader speak about something on which folks from every political persuasion can agree. Except that with this president, in this context, conservatives are suspicious about the content, demanding to see the text of the address in advance.

One-time Republican presidential hopeful Gary Bauer called the speech an "unprecedented" use of power." He was not making a cheeky reference to President George W. Bush's surveillance of U.S. citizens, Abraham Lincoln's suspension of habeus corpus or any of the invasions of sovereign nations that the U.S. has undertaken over the years. He was being completely sincere, and so was the chairman of the Florida Republican Party in a memo that accused the president of using "taxpayer dollars . . . to spread President Obama's socialist ideology." A Republican state lawmaker from Oklahoma is quoted as saying, "As far as I am concerned, this is not civics education — it gives the appearance of creating a cult of personality. This is something you'd expect to see in North Korea or in Saddam Hussein's Iraq."

Of course, such an argument is wholly without merit. There is certainly a "cult of personality" around the U.S. president for school children, and there always has been. Fred Greenstein's groundbreaking work with children in the 1960s revealed that presidents are perceived as "benevolent leaders" to children, irrespective of their parents' political beliefs. There have always been portraits of the current president hanging in schools, courthouses, post offices and other public spaces. Portraits do not invite "a critical approach" to presidents, as the Arizona state schools superintendent said should happen; indeed, they invite "worship" of our nation's top leader in the name of patriotism.

Is this paranoia racially driven? A solid case could probably be made for that, but we are not going to make it. What we will do, however, is explain how these accusations work to erode Obama's image as part of a larger push to portray him as "other." As we always do, we will take the social science approach and focus on the effects of this communication rather than the intent of the folks who are crafting and delivering the message.

Social science research reveals that racist messages in political campaign communication almost never occur as a result of a candidate using direct ("explicit") racist language. Rather, there is a combination of images and code words that are effective because they activate deeply-held racist predispositions in the minds of voters (not just White voters). Again, this work speaks to the way that such messages have the potential to affect voters; it makes no claims as to whether such appeals were intended by the candidates or their campaign teams. In some case (like the infamous Willie Horton ad from 1988), we can know intent because the architect (in that case, Lee Atwater), admitted as much (in that case, after he knew that he was dying -- far too young -- of cancer), but for the most part, we cannot, as President George W. Bush used to say, know what is in their hearts.

In our most recent work, we found that there is a tendency to use in-group/out-group language to indicate "otherness," a tactic which has the potential to be greatly exacerbated when the "other" is a member of a racial or ethnic minority group. Such language often comes by way of the choice of first person pronouns in combination with images that suggest the race of the in group. For instance, if a White candidate is running against a Black candidate in a district that is majority-White, he or she might run an ad that includes only White citizens, with language about "our values" or "our priorities," signaling that those priorities are different than those of a candidate of color. There is nothing inherently racist about candidates trying to convince voters that they are more "relatable" than their opponents; as a result of the way race has worked in America, however, the priming of group identity with images in combination with such language can work to the advantage of a candidate who employs such a strategy.

We can see this very clearly in Barack Obama's opponents over the past two and a half years. From the Democratic primaries through the election through the first six months of his presidency, detractors from all political persuasions have used language that pushes Obama into the category of "other." The specific elements on which Obama is accused of being different change (quite frequently, in fact): He has been labeled as un-American in at least these ways by political elites: communist/socialist/Marxist, elitist, corrupt, terrorist sympathizer, foreign-born, a thug, fascist and racist (ironically, this is considered to be un-American). None of these labels are racist in and of themselves (even "racist"), but when leveled against a person of color, the dynamic is inherently different.

Does that mean that any attack against a person of color is racist? Certainly not (though Obama's opponents have used that argument, as well). First, even if the messages are racist by these scholarly definitions, that does not mean that those who crafted the message did so intentionally (did we mention this already?). Second, there are all sorts of ways that a person of color can be criticized on political grounds without playing into preexisting negative stereotypes about that person's race or ethnicity. Suggesting that Barack Obama is trying to deceive people has a racist effect because African Americans are presumed to be shifty, dishonest and criminal. To argue that Barack Obama's health care proposal is bad for America because small businesses would have a difficult time with the provisions, for instance, is wholly non-racial. Some progressives have argued that all of Obama's opponents are playing on race because the overwhelming visible criticism of him has been based on fear appeals related to negative stereotypes about African Americans.

This latest criticism over the education speech is no different. The argument is that Obama is trying to play a shell game with the American people, to "get at" our children, and to be dishonest about his true intentions. Such a criticism aimed at a White president (or official or candidate) carries no racist associations, as Whites are not, as a group, commonly assumed to have such characteristics. Since such stereotypes do exist about Blacks, however, the effect of this charge is different.

Former Republican Speaker of the House (and likely 2012 presidential hopeful) Newt Gingrich came out in support of the president's speech on Sunday, but implied that his support was related to the fact that he believed that the text of the speech would be made available so that parents could choose whether to allow their children to be exposed to the message. This is consistent with the calls from many of those who have criticized the speech, suggesting that Obama is trying to hide the content from parents. We do not know how common it is for presidents to release the text of their speeches weeks or days ahead of time (though it is quite common for text to be released to the press hours ahead of time for publication assistance), but in the larger context of conservative attacks on Obama over the past year or so, the request is troubling, as it signals that Black folks -- even the president -- cannot be trusted to talk directly to our students without parents having the chance to censor.

Adults talk to our children everyday without our input: teachers, firefighters, police officers, other children's parents on "career days," etc. Presumably there is no opposition to such speakers because those folks are not "strangers" -- they are members of our community. In the past, presidents of the United States were very much considered to be members of our community -- even largely in communities of color.

But this president will never be accepted as "family" or even as legitimate to many Whites. Once that is understood, it is not surprising that parents would not want their children to hear what he has to say unless and until they approve the content ahead of time. If you are not "one of us," you do not get to talk to our children.

Update (9/7/09, 12:39pm CDT): The text of the president's speech to children can be found here.

Who Can Use the N-Word?: 2009

We are in agreement with one another about most things. We like a lot of the same music, we generally enjoy the same movies, we like the same food (okay, that’s a bad example because we both like pretty much ALL food), and we certainly share a lot of the same views when it comes to social justice and issues related to race.

But there are a couple of places where we part ways. For instance, Charlton favors the Big 12 conference (OU) and Stephen is a Big 10 guy (Purdue). When it comes to Tastykakes, Stephen prefers Butterscotch Krimpets while Charlton reaches for the Chocolate Juniors (if you want to read something racial into that, go right ahead).

The most substantive disagreement we have with respect to race concerns the use of the n-word. A couple of years back, we did a mini-tour of some colleges where we publicly debated one another and then engaged in discussion with the audience. For a summary of our positions, see our earlier blog entry (and for video of one of the public debates, click here).

This disagreement surfaced again last month when New York member of Congress Carolyn Maloney (left) – who was then planning to run for the U.S. Senate seat in the 2010 Democratic primary against Kirsten Gillibrand – was quoted in an interview using the n-word. As always, the context is important; Maloney (who is White) was repeating what an African American said. Here’s the quote:

"I got a call from someone from Puerto Rico, said (Gillibrand) went to Puerto Rico and came out for English-only (education). And he said, 'It was like saying the n-word to a Puerto Rican,'" Maloney said, using the full racial slur.

Still, she was forced to make a public apology, and she has since announced that she will not seek the Senate seat next year. Here are our respective takes on this situation.

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Stephen: I don’t feel comfortable saying definitively that someone’s career ought to be derailed (and we don’t expect that Maloney’s will be – we only know that she won’t be seeking higher office in the near future), but I do believe that folks who called on her to make a public apology were correct to do so. Of course, the entire situation was somewhat complicated because Rev. Al Sharpton, who predictably (and, in my opinion, appropriately) criticized the comments, is a Gillibrand supporter. Further, the context within which she made the comments were racial because it centered on English-only education. So there is a lot going on here.

My position, though, is that a White person should (almost) never utter the word (I used to say “never,” but attendees at our public debates made some excellent points about, for instance, White actors in a play or film). That is not to say, of course, that White folks shouldn’t talk about the word – I am (hopefully clearly) very much in favor of that. And while it may seem ridiculous to say “the n-word” when everyone knows what it is (it’s like spelling "s-e-x" in front of a 16-year-old, right?), the symbolism of avoiding the word is an important indication of the word’s power.

In short, Maloney could have (should have) repeated the story and said “the n-word” instead of. . . well, the n-word.

Charlton: Yes, perhaps –- politically -- Maloney should have said, “the n-word.” But then again, the “n-word” is not quite the same thing as saying “nigger,” which, I guess is kind of the point on both sides of the issue. I won’t say Maloney was “right” to use the term, but I do think that given the context, it should have been permissible and not have become the albatross it became for her political aspirations. To describe the level of the term's offensiveness, using the “n-word” doesn’t carry the full effect -– the offensive effect it should have had when the person Maloney was quoting used it.

Plain and simple -– whether you’re Black or White –- when we throw all context out the window and say “you just can’t say the word,” we’ve reduced the conflict to nothing more than a political game over the limits of censorship. We can pretend we’re all children and use the n-word euphemism to show we know the power the word has and seek to shield everyone from that reality. Or, we can say that part of continually recognizing and reminding folks of the word’s power is making it permissible to utter the word – especially if the result is a productive conversation about the complexities of the term’s usage.

Stephen: The censorship argument is a red herring. I am not advocating "thought police" or any formal ban on the word (as we saw in a number of places and wrote about in this space a couple of years back). I am arguing that White folks should be thoughtful about the power of the word and should illustrate that power symbolically by conspicuously and ceremoniously avoiding it. We are in agreement, I think, that Maloney should not be unduly punished as a result of saying it in this context, but it was quite appropriate for her to apologize.

The bigger problem from my perspective is that her apology did not push forward the dialogue in any meaningful way. From her statement:

I apologize for having repeated a word I find disgusting. It's no excuse but I was so caught up in relaying the story exactly as it was told to me that, in doing so, I repeated a word that should never be repeated.

First of all, I don’t know that it is true that the word should “never be repeated.” Not only does my colleague argue that it can be used by Whites, but there is an entirely different argument with respect to whether persons of color – particularly African Americans – can use the term in different contexts. Further, she does not explain why she should not use it in this or any other context. As it is, she leaves us with a position that Charlton is correct to indicate is tantamount to censorship.

It is not enough to simply say that it is a “bad” word that no one (or even just Whites) should never say. That isn’t a sophisticated position at all. That’s why my position is that Whites ought to make a conscious decision to talk about the word while not saying it so as to call attention to its hideous history and contemporary power.

Charlton: That is precisely my point. Maloney does not explain why she should not use the word – or whether she should in some context or another – because this is what our racial censorship has taught us. You say the word – there’s only one recourse: say "I’m sorry." That’s all anyone wants to hear. That’s all Rev. Sharpton wanted to hear. Few are really interested in a prolonged conversation about the term because doing so would necessarily require the freedom to use the term by all involved. It would also mean continuously risking the offense and confronting the emotions that would come along with it. That’s harder to do – understandably so. But we have chosen the easier course: We just say that no one should say it under most circumstances so we will never have to confront what it has and continues to mean and whether it should always do so.

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As always, we're very much interested in your thoughtful comments on the issue. Please feel free to leave them below.

(Also, just as a reminder, we do not "moderate" the comments for content at all; that step is simply added to eliminate the tremendous amount of spam we receive in the comments section of our blog when the filter is removed. We love thoughtful disagreement, and we even publish less-than-thoughtful disagreement.)

What the %@#& Do We Know?

Few folks feel confident enough to substantively question the writing of scholars in the natural sciences or even, to a certain extent, in the humanities. But in the social sciences -- particularly in those areas related to government -- there seems to be less of a sense of deference to scholars' offerings. In a number of ways, that's healthy because it allows folks without formal training (many of whom have not had the opportunity to get formal training) to weigh in on some of the most important problems of our times. It causes us to wonder aloud sometimes, though, what the %@#& do we know, anyway, and why does it matter?

Particularly in the age of the Internet, it is possible for interested persons to do "research" on a number of topics and feel that they are informed. The cycle can be vicious, though, as the information that is available is not always credible, though much of it sounds quite authoritative. Combine this with the conscious and deliberate attack on intellectualism in academia from conservatives who worry that young adults are being indoctrinated by liberal professors, and we are left with a situation where much of the information relating to politics and society appears to be quite similar.

This blog, for instance, gets about 400 hits a week. There are others who read THIS WEEK via RSS, email, etc., but even so, it's a pretty small audience overall. Each week, we try to apply (sometimes explicitly, sometimes implicitly) scholarly principles to current events so that our readers see clearly the ways that social scientists (at least two of us, anyway) "read" these issues. We are rarely sensationalistic, almost never call anyone names (remember: the scholarly use of the term "racist" is not an attack, but rather a truism; we use it as an adjective rather than a noun), and, as a consequence, we have a rather limited reach.

In short, we are pretty boring by the standards of more visible media sources (both new and traditional). So why are you reading this? What the %@#& do you know?!

We hope that you read us each week because you value the unique contribution that scholarship makes to public discourse (not just our scholarship -- all scholarship). We know that many of you are academics, but many of you are not. If you are not, you have come to appreciate what we and other social scientists offer to the discussion of race, language and politics because you realize that there is an important process that is in place that separates our writing from the less formal (though often just as thoughtful) writings of those who are not trained as scholars and do not spend their lives working within that framework.

At the heart of the scholarly process is an understanding of the work of those who have come before us and a commitment to the methods that are accepted as valid in the disciplines within which we work.

Training for a doctorate involves both of those areas. The graduate school years in social science programs are spent reviewing and re-contextualizing previous research and learning the nuances of the various methodologies accepted in the field. The creation of new knowledge centers on the double-blind peer review process in which all scholarly publications are subject to anonymous review by other scholars (who are familiar with the history and methodology in the specific area of inquiry) who determine if the work is worthy of publication in a scholarly journal or as a book. This process takes several years from the initiation of research until publication.

So it is disturbing to hear someone like Michele Malkin (left), who has millions of readers each week (as compared to the handful that we have) state proudly on The View THIS WEEK (watch here or below) that she spent six months writing her latest book about corruption in the Obama Administration. Six whole months! From the perspective of an academic, whether we agree or disagree with the "findings," it is quite suspect to rely on any evidence so hastily put together and screened only for its ability to make money (rather than any external intellectual standards). But in the free market, Malkin (who has no advanced formal academic training) is considered to be an "expert" on politics (she was a round table guest on This Week with George Stephanopoulos last week as she promoted her book).



Sour grapes? Sure. We cannot assume that is not part of our frustration, but it is not about Malkin, Beck, O'Reilly and others simply being more wealthy than we are. Most academics certainly have the talent and opportunities to enter professions where we would make more money. It is more about the frustration of being exposed to (and subsequently internalizing) the idea that information is more valid when it is held to scientific standards and practices. That is, something published in an academic journal or from a university press is a "better" source than something published in The New York Times, which (because it has editorial oversight) is better than something published on someone's blog.

For instance, a blogger named budwhite called Frank Rich and others who, like us, believed that there should be a teachable moment in the Henry Louis Gates, Jr. incident "racial hucksters." (We argued that there should be but would not be.) The commenters (and he has a lot more than we have each week!) tended to agree with him, even though there was no evidence that he applied scholarly principles to his opinion. Budwhite has a compelling story (World War II vet, retired LA police officer, starting law school in the fall) that (we feel) provides him with important perspective with which to offer his opinion. While we disagree strongly with his position on this issue, it brings to mind an important question about formal education versus life experience. Both are valuable, but in what ways? Under what circumstances? Do budwhite's life experiences make him equally qualified to comment on race as folks like us, who have earned doctoral degrees in related fields and who have published and spoken widely on the issue? Are we, in turn, as qualified as he is to speak on the nuances of police action? Is President Obama (when he claimed -- and we agreed -- that the Cambridge police acted "stupidly" when they arrested Professor Gates)?

How do we weigh the value of such differing perspectives? As college-level instructors, we expect students to understand that there is a difference between writing by academics and non-academics -- no matter how "smart" the latter are. But it is not as simple as reviewing the qualifications of the author(s). Academics are are also human, we are citizens, and we have a right to advance our own personal agendas, as well. Some of us do so in our own social network posts. Sometimes we make a serious effort to adhere to academic principles in these spaces (as we do); sometimes we do not. That is, sometimes we just wear our "citizen" hats. But we believe that, like a boxer who is not permitted to get into a bar brawl, academics should always remain committed to engaging in dialogue that enhances democracy. In other words, though no one can never be wholly "objective," academics have a responsibility to strive for objectivity by holding firm to the process that separates what we do from what those not trained as social scientists do. Being objective is not the same as being neutral, however; that is a distinction that folks need to recognize.

So we take the time THIS WEEK to reflect, but also to ask you: What the %@#& do we know?! If you are an academic, what do you know? If you are not, why do you read our stuff (and/or other blogs by academics)? Do you read scholarly journals and books, too? Why (or why not)?

It will come as little surprise to you that it takes us between three and five hours each week to put this offering together. Over three years, that is a significant time commitment, particularly when you consider that it has virtually no positive effect on our prospects for promotion. If we spent that time engaging in traditional academic pursuits, we might have an additional peer-reviewed article or two, or our books would be further along. We spend this time because we are committed to making the scholarship about race, politics and language accessible and relevant to our readers. We do it to (hopefully) serve as a model of what thoughtful dialogue can look like in the blogosphere. (For more about why we do this, see our last foray into blogger existentialism, "Defining Our Role," from last September.)

We're not going to stop. We know from your feedback that you are out there and that you appreciate our perspective (even when you disagree). But we know that we could exponentially increase our reach if we were to be more controversial. We also know, however, that you do not want that. Earlier in the week, we posted a link to a very disturbing bigoted web site on the RaceProject Facebook page, and some of our "fans" expressed concern -- not over the content of the site (it is expected that such garbage exists), but because they felt it was beneath what we do to engage with such mindless drivel. While we made a case for occasionally posting such material, we appreciate the sentiment behind the complaints. Folks were saying that they are attentive to the RaceProject because what we do is different than much of the other commentary out there. That has been our goal since we started the Project in 2001. Happily, it seems that you feel that (for the most part) we are doing it correctly.

But hey, what the %@#& do you know?!

Thanks to Our Vets and Current Military Service Members

Memorial Day is, of course, the unofficial start of summer, a day off work for many (but certainly not all), and a chance to bust out that grill, and it is an opportunity to reflect on the women and men who have served in the American military. At a time when Americans are in harm's way in a number of places, we may not need a holiday as much as we do during peaceful times, but it gives us an excuse to discuss the contributions of persons of color -- persons who have a unique perspective on what it means to be American.

In 2007, there were 2.4 million single-race Black military service members in the United States. That year, the Boston Globe reported that while the number of Black enlistees had dropped some 58% since 2000, "the percentage of blacks in the military still slightly exceeds that of the general population: 14.5 percent in the military, as of 2005, versus 12.8 percent in the U.S. population." Hispanics are underrepresented in the military, but their participation is increasing; they comprised 13.5 percent of the military in 2007 (as compared to 15% in the U.S. population). There were more than a quarter of a million Asian Americans serving in 2005, and there are approximately 185,000 Native American veterans in the U.S. (For a detailed analysis of race/ethnicity and military service, download this 2004 [.pdf] document from the Population Reference Bureau.) There are organizations dedicated to African American Veterans, Hispanic Veterans, Asian American Veterans and Native American veterans.

It has been said that in military service, there is no Black, White or Brown -- there is only Red, White and Blue. We agree with that sentiment, but, as always, it is a bit more complicated than that.

First, it is no secret that our voluntary military disproportionately attracts young men and women with few other options (though see this report from the Heritage Foundation, which argues against a draft to rectify this imbalance). In 2005, UPI reported that "[n]early two-thirds, 64 percent, of recruits to the military were from counties that have average incomes lower than the national median National Priorities Project said. . . . According to NPP, 15 of the top 20 counties that had the highest numbers of recruits [in 2004] had higher poverty rates than the national average, and 18 of the top 20 had higher poverty rates than the state average." Young high school graduates who are not qualified to attend college or cannot afford to do so find few jobs available that provide opportunities for sustenance. Black and Latino families face rates of poverty in America that are disproportionate to those of Whites.

Second, while service to country is admirable under any circumstances and putting oneself in harm's way for a cause beyond one's own self interest is laudable irrespective of race or ethnicity, it is particularly admirable for persons to voluntarily serve a country that has been historically hostile at worst and indifferent at best to groups with which they identify (LGBT Americans are similarly situated in this regard).

I got a letter from the government
The other day
I opened and read it
It said they were suckers
They wanted me for their army or whatever
Picture me given a damn - I said "never"
Here is a land that never gave a damn
About a brother like me and myself
Because they never did
I wasn't with it, but just that very minute
It occurred to me
The suckers had authority
[...]
They could not understand that I'm a black man
And I could never be a veteran
-- Public Enemy, "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos" (1988)

So while you are firing up that grill, taking that first swim in the public pool, or otherwise participating in Memorial Day festivities, we join those who urge us to remember why we are asked to pause and reflect. It is not about some blind obedience to a flag (or even what it represents) or the unwavering support for our elected leaders (even when they are making bad choices); it is about the individual and collective lives of those who choose to serve. The most conservative among us understands that if the government has any role at all, it is in national defense. The most progressive among us understands that the military is an indispensable element of a modern democratic society that is often instrumental in helping people around the globe. The men and women who put on (and have put on) a U.S. military uniform each day, many of whom sacrifice their lives on a regular basis, come from all ethnic and racial backgrounds, but share a fundamental commitment to the only identification that should come before country: humanity.

See this page for an archive of African American military service since the Revolutionary War and this page for historical information compiled by the U.S. Army. The Army has also developed this page for information about the history of Hispanic service, this page for information about Asian Americans' service, and this page for information about Native Americans' service.