Animus and Systemic Racism
The current hand wringing and head
scratching in this country over the definition of “racism,” most particularly
in terms of personal beliefs and behaviors, is a rather curious phenomenon. It
is curious not because it is an odd topic for discussion – we Americans have long needed to discuss what
racism is, how it is expressed, why it is both “natural” and naturally harmful,
as well as what we can do to eradicate it. It is curious because defining racism
is actually not all that hard. Nor, quite frankly, is it hard to recognize
where it is found and how it expresses itself.
The recent death of Toni Morrison, an American writer of unparalleled
force and dignity, whose work consistently shed light on the costs and consequences
of racism, might well occasion such a long overdue discussion of racism in
America.
What we usually mean by “racism” is
simply “personal animus,” dislike of another person due to that person’s racial
differences: skin color, facial features, language, social behaviors and
habits, religion or religious expression, and so forth. There are a lot of
things that can be considered to be race characteristics, even things that have
nothing to do with race per se. Personal animus is usually considered in terms
of one to one. Consequently, if I personally don’t “dislike” a person as an
individual based on these racial features, then I would likely conclude that I
am not racist. This is where the President and his apologists appear to be
coming from. So if we ask the question, “Is the President a racist?” we will
have to rely on what he claims. This action is problematic, of course, because
we can’t see his thoughts and because his commentary is often disconnected from
what we traditionally regard as factual reality. As regards the issue of his personal animus,
we just can’t tell from the outside.
If that were all racism involved,
our discussion would end there, with what in boxing is called a “split
decision.” But there is, in fact, more to it. Racism is more than just a
one to one issue. There is, for example, systemic racism or institutional
racism, in which “well-meaning” and “law abiding” people, even people without
specific personal animus, behave in ways that support prejudicial behaviors.
This is likely to happen between groups, as we see with issues of the
disagreement over the border wall. No one has suggested the United States build
a border wall along the Atlantic seaboard to keep out unwanted immigrants from
Europe. Beyond the obvious fact that such a wall is not practical, we really
have no need or desire to keep out Europeans. In fact, the idea should strike
us as absurd. Notably we are talking in this instance about white people, like
many of us. If those same people were
struggling to cross the southern border in order to flee persecution, that is,
if white Europeans were at the southern border we would be having a
different conversation over the border wall than we have had during the last
three (plus) years. We are not likely to experience either the heated rhetoric
or the pumped-up anxieties. We would, in fact, take an entirely different
approach to the problem.
Systemic racism also appears in
language habits and in the use of symbols. When I was a child in the 1950s,
what we call the “n word” was generally understood to be impolite if not problematic
– not that the northern white communities that I grew up in understood its
harsh ramifications. My family did not use the word because my parents, to
their credit, regarded it as disrespectful. But others people did use it both as a descriptive term
and as an epithet. Part of our education as a culture and as a society since
that time has involved the general removal of this term from pervasive, common
use. I am noting here a reduction in use of the term, not, sadly, its
eradication. Nevertheless, our success at limiting
use of the “n” word would suggest that we white Americans can improve our behavior with regard to race – if we are sufficiently motivated.
Widespread condemnation of the “n
word” leads me to another point with a bearing on the wider issues of systemic
racism – the use of symbolic and coded language. There are many examples
available, but “law and order” will serve. At face value, that is to say, literally speaking, why wouldn’t we all be
in favor of “law and order”? We all want or at least benefit from stability and
consistency, which is one primary meaning of the term. Additionally, the phrase
also suggests an unquestionable legitimacy, a reliable system of knowns. “Of
course,” we would say, “I am a law and order kind of person.”
But once we scratch the surface of
“law and order” to see what it signifies practically or historically we discover
that “law and order” has been used as code language for an often punitive
application of policing, as well as rationale for control by various “authorities.”
From this starting point, historically speaking, we discover that the law and
order position is used to preserve the status quo, whatever that might be at
any particular moment in history. We also discover that the application of law
and order, given this starting point, comes down most frequently and most
heavily on minorities, on the poor, on the powerless and the
unconventional.
To put it differently, the experience of most African Americans with regard to law and order is enormously different from the experience of middle class and affluent whites. Often, the difference is significant enough that we might think the term had two quite distinct literal meanings. It does. But, then, that is the nature of systemic racism, isn’t it.
Or, if you will, consider the
“black lives matter” slogan that has become ubiquitous in recent weeks. There
were two prominent reactions to this movement. Some have called the BLM folks
"terrorist," which, of course, is neither true nor reasonable. Others, especially
in the white community, have countered with the more generous slogan, “ALL
lives matter.” The only reasonable response to “All lives matter” is
affirmation: “Of course, all lives matter!”
Unfortunately, that is not the point. The
point is that in our country, white lives DO matter because the system works
fairly consistently in favor of whites. White lives are already affirmed by the
system. When was the last time you read about or saw on the news cops shooting a
white person who had been stopped for a broken tail light? or cops gang
tackling and squeezing the life out of a white person passing a bogus $20 bill
or for selling cigarettes on the street?
But in the same system, black lives
are cheap. Black folks are far less valuable if we are to judge from how often
minor encounters between police and black males especially end in death. In
that context, then, insisting that “all lives matter” effectively hides the
egregious excesses of the current law-and-order system of policing in America. Insisting
that “black lives” have value, significance, meaning clearly is the corrective our system needs.
While we are pondering how this particular response to “black lives matter” sheds light on “all lives matter,” let’s consider one more implication of “all lives matter.” Since “all lives matter” is a natural and often immediate response of white folks who would describe themselves as “conservative” and “conservatively Christian,” how is it that our (yes, I am white too) concern for “all lives” has serious limits? We value the lives of folks living in our communities, but find ourselves reluctant to extend that valuing to the mostly brown folks who have streamed to our borders looking for sanctuary from oppression, brutality, poverty, and death in the countries they fled? Do those lives matter? Clearly they don’t matter much to us, but do they matter to God? Are they included in Christ’s mandate that specifies “the least of these”? What if they are just looking for “opportunity” for their children? Is that reason enough to set out on thousand mile treks to our border?
There are almost too many examples
of how this strand of systemic racism works to fit into our conversation. We
value the lives (and, significantly, the property)
of folks in white neighborhoods but not of the black jogger or the black
teenager in a hoody using these streets to get home?
I am not suggesting there are easy
answers to questions like these. But I hope the links I have sketched
demonstrate in some important way, that “systemic racism” is real, it is deep,
it is deeply entrenched in all our systems, and it needs to be addressed for
what it is. The arrogant killing of
George Floyd – and others of his or ANY color – is only the most obvious fruit
of a system built on racist assumptions and practices and institutions that we continue to benefit from, whether we
think we are racist or not.
