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Tyre Nichols, Victim of White Supremacy (What would MLK Do?)

For anyone saying [the death of Tyre Nichols at the hands of five black Memphis police officers] was about abuse of power and not race, the disproportionate brutality inflicted upon Black people doesn’t become less racist because of the race of the officers. The system of policing in this country treats Black people like they are less worthy of humane treatment in the eyes of many in law enforcement. Policing is the problem.  

Anoa Changa, January 24, 2023, NewsOne

Suppose that the whole of American society agreed that white supremacy is the cause of police brutality? Then what?

Abolishing police departments would undoubtedly favor anarchy. Anyone who cannot afford private security — a majority of Americans — would find themselves living in a Lord of the Flies dystopia, which is no kind of social justice at all.

What if, instead, we agreed on police reform? Even if we were to “reimagine policing”, how do we stop systemic racism from coming along for the ride? 

As the saying goes “Wherever you go, there you are”. If we are all products of a racist culture, then it also follows that we can scarcely legislate, name-change or reimagine our wrongdoings away.

Marxists have an answer: Scrap the American Experiment and start all over again. But again, the same people who comprise the old system will create the new system. Even those who are aware of the problem are products of the problem. So then what?

Perhaps it is time to acknowledge that on our own power we cannot fully escape our sins, past or present. Nevertheless, we owe people of faith — Martin Luther King, Jr., among many others — credit for much of the progress society has achieved.

If King were here, would he approve of how the fight for equal opportunity and equal rights continues? Would he go about “dismantling” racism the same way modern activists do?

Some things have faded from public consciousness in the 60-some years since the Civil Rights era. Too often we forget that King did not merely advocate for social justice — although that was undeniably part of it. Rev. King also appealed to a higher moral authority in a way today’s activists generally neglect. In King’s day, “original sin” was a theological reference to having been born into a damaged world run by damaged people who are in universal need of personal redemption. Today, by contrast, original sin is a 1619 Project reference to the date when slavery made landfall with European settlers. Still, the troubling fact remains: Humanity’s capacity for evil is as old as Adam and Eve and the knowledge of good and evil itself. Try though we might, we have yet to cure a spiritual disease with a political answer, however well-intended or woke.

After decades of attempts to raise Americans’ awareness through education, the apparent conclusion is that unless or until we fully transform K-12 curriculum (CRT), the legacy of white supremacy will carry on. But is this really true? Is the magic bullet an earlier start to an antiracist education? 

Can we educate our way out evil?

At some point the conversation must be taken to the next level — for our societal, if not personal, health. Academia has constructed entire fields of “critical theory” studies to identify the scope and breadth of The Problem. But how much thought has gone into The Solution

For his part, antiracism thought leader Ibram X. Kendi questions whether any “‘group in history has gained their freedom through appealing to the moral conscience of their oppressors.’ He pushes us to instead focus on policy, because while other approaches may benefit individuals, ‘only policy change helps groups’.”

Equity is one such attempt to address racism via public policy. Equity rejects the notion of a color-blind society and is in some ways at odds with the equality-driven 1964 Civil Rights Act. If homebuyers, job seekers and college applicants who hail from historically marginalized groups are at a disadvantage to a white privileged, heterosexual majority, reverse racism and gender “nonconformity” are acceptable ways to level the playing field. Similarly, it is the goal of antiracists to define hate speech — and, more importantly, laws by which to criminalize undesirable forms of expression. And yet for all this effort, the question remains: Does a reordering of preferential treatment and/or the criminalization of wrong-speech change minds — or do top-down solutions simply force hateful attitudes underground where they are more difficult to address?

The fly in the critical theorist ointment is the largely unexamined assumption that government can achieve what appeals to human decency and a higher power cannot. If the sources of oppression past and present are in fact institutional, then placing greater trust in those institutions, however we may imagine they will be run, is naive at best. Dr. Kendi may lament in How to be an Antiracist that changing hearts and minds is a fool’s errand — but short-circuiting this more tedious and tiresome effort is to trade the hope of social transformation for the seduction of tyranny.

But for a handful of short-lived experiments in Democracy, history has lurched from one oppressive regime to another, in virtually every case under the pretense of the “greater good”. (Perhaps if we were being more honest, we would identify misplaced faith in systems and schemes over minds and hearts as the mechanism by which oppression becomes institutionalized in the first place?)

If we omit spirituality from the social justice conversation, we lose a key element of successful civil rights movements past. Only when we confront deeper truths about what it means to be products of the human condition, does humility rise above politics, and healing triumph over hate. 

The stain of slavery is one of trauma. As such, the social media and political spaces in which the so-called cultural wars play out do as much to amplify trauma as to condemn hate. If King were here, he would do more than call for courtroom justice on behalf of Tyre Nichols and the countless others who have been lost to senseless violence. He would also remind us that when we neglect to take a knee, we are no longer aiming high enough. 

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From Liberated to Disillusioned: How far did we come, baby?

Something of a debate is afoot: Are nuclear families a good idea? Do they work in 21st Century America?

David Brooks, in a provocatively-titled Atlantic magazine piece, argues that “The Nuclear Family Was a Mistake“. He recognizes the utility of the extended family, which predates the nuclear variety, but points out that “while extended families have strengths, they can also be exhausting and stifling.” Conversely, he observes, “family, once a dense cluster of many siblings and extended kin, fragmented into ever smaller and more fragile forms. The initial result of that fragmentation, the nuclear family, didn’t seem so bad. But then, because the nuclear family is so brittle, the fragmentation continued. In many sectors of society, nuclear families fragmented into single-parent families, single-parent families into chaotic families or no families.”

Brooks goes on to argue in favor of “forged families” — meaning people who voluntarily adopt the roles of extended family even though they are not biologically related. Brooks’ piece, while a worthy read, raises more questions than answers. For one, is it not more typical for conservatives to raise concerns over the state of American families? What would prompt a liberal journalist, however obliquely, to critique the impact of individualism on society?

And why now?

While mulling this question over, I decided to revisit aspects of history I recall studying in college. I watched the Amazon Prime documentary “She’s Beautiful When She’s Angry“, which depicts the way in which women of the 1960s began to redefine roles within the family and the workplace.

While there is great value in the first-person recollections of the women who helped raise the nation’s consciousness in the 1960s and 1970s, I am struck by a question only a post-baby boomer would likely ask: In an era dominated by Greatest Generation Americans, how did a movement of this kind achieve critical mass — devoid not only of social media but beholden to a national media bound to an FCC-mandated fairness doctrine? This, of course, begs another question: Are we correct to attribute second-wave feminism to entirely organic (spontaneous) causes? The documentary acknowledges, for example, that J. Edgar Hoover planted informants in women’s consciousness-raising groups. What is less clear is at what stage government involvement occurred. That matters because the “when” and the “why” may very well be informed by a history we have yet to fully explore. (To that end, the documentary scarcely touches upon Gloria Steinem’s pivotal role in the feminist movement and her self-admitted associations with a CIA front group.)

It is said that history is written by the victors. In this case, the victors consist of self-described student radicals, most of whom are well into their Golden Years. But there is another history this documentary doesn’t touch upon — that of the post-World War II period: the Cold War, Korean and Vietnam war era. It’s a glaring omission that that circumscribes this documentary to the anecdotal recollections of long-ago activists.

It cannot be stressed enough that the Cold War was not merely an arms race or a tale of two competing ideologies. The stakes were far higher: freedom vs. tyranny; mutually-assured destruction vs. prosperity; patriotism vs. sedition. However it is remembered, it was a time of, by and for the politics of patriarchy. When President Nixon vetoed a bill in 1971 that would have granted the pro-family policies the women’s liberation movement championed, his explanation reflects Cold War chauvinism as much as it reflects upon stereotypical gender-role expectations of the time. Similarly, the contrasting roles of Soviet and American women appear to have been propagandist ploys as much as anything.

If this kind of bravado occurred in the open, what kind of behind-the-scenes social engineering efforts went into winning the Cold War on the home front?

In the documentary, a leader of the 1960s women’s movement relates — still with an apparent sense of awe — that women’s consciousness groups arose “spontaneously” around the country. For a country that was still decades removed from social media, is this not curious? Is there any research to suggest that the timeline of government efforts to monitor, if not influence, activist groups occurred well after such movements caught on? Has anyone within the journalism sphere, for that matter, pursued Freedom Of Information Act requests to explore whether the government played a direct, if not lesser-appreciated, role?

Having come of age during the 1980s at the height of the crack epidemic, yuppie culture, latchkey kid debates, urban gang proliferation and the tail end of the nuclear arms race, my sense is that early second-wave activists who credit themselves with continuing where Suffrage left off seem to miss the fact that, far from being non-beneficiaries of women’s liberation, men — and more specifically the federal government— were working to advance one overarching goal: Proving that the United States, and by extension Capitalism, was superior to that of the U.S.S.R. (Communism).

While political leaders of the era may have continued to pay lip service to the traditional roles of women, there was only so far the image of American nuclear family bliss could go in the hands of “happy homemakers“. The effort to defeat Communism, after all, was also cultural and economic. The Soviets, for their part, actively worked to project cosmopolitan values, in which female labor was a man’s equal (or so the propaganda maintained). Soviet women’s children were supported by collectivist programs even as American women and children were not. Machismo undoubtedly shaped American foreign policy and that, in turn, dovetailed with key aspects of second-wave feminism. Conversely, less masculine aspects of the movement, such as access to universal childcare, floundered then and continue largely unchanged today.

Why might that be?

Could the thinking have been — if not explicitly, tacitly — that while less robust Soviet citizens might require Marxist concessions to secure their cooperation, Capitalists are a tougher, more independent, patriotic and industrious lot? Might this explain why aspects of the women’s liberation movement, such as labor force participation, succeeded in changing expectations and norms, whereas efforts to confront domestic inequality and to alleviate racial inequality, among other burdens that continue to fall disproportionately upon women, have been less successful?

The support garnered in 2016 and 2020 by a self-professed democratic socialist, presidential candidate and Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders, reveals not just a desperation to unseat the current president but a declining belief in the merits of Capitalism. College-age women today still envision for themselves what women of an earlier generation sough: liberation. To a Millennial generation disproportionately raised by single and/or overworked dual-income parents, equality does not look like the gender-defined domestic roles one’s grandmother or great grandmother shouldered, a lifetime of student loan debt servitude or the seductive, if not disingenuous, women-can-have-it-all messaging of the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s (loving marriage, fulfilling career and quality, if not quantity, time with the kids).

While second-wave feminism paved the way for women to pursue fulfilling careers, the law of unintended consequences was not far behind. Within two decades the conversation was less about choice and more about economic necessity. As household incomes began to rise as a result of women’s entry into the workforce, the buying power of a dollar began to slip. Despite surging numbers of dual-income households, financial security continues to elude many middle class households. What began as women’s choice translated, for too many families, into a man’s license to abandon his children. The result is that women have been left to juggle responsibilities they have been tasked with for hundreds, if not thousands of years — even as women are now socially and culturally obligated to demonstrate their worth to kin and country, alike, in a monetized manner.

Is this the “choice” our liberation-minded trailblazers promised?

Disillusionment with the nuclear family reflects a loss of faith in something else entirely. With the exception of the affluent, who can readily hire the help they need to strike a better work-life balance, middle class and working class women have been sold a bill of goods about “having it all”. In reality, something was bound give: the career; the marriage; non-work friendships; waning influence over the values of one’s own over-scheduled children; and, in the end, support for the nuclear family if not Capitalism itself.

Conservatives have long decried the unraveling of the nuclear family and, in some ways, their worst fears have been realized over the past 60-some years: By the 1980s, self-medicating yuppies and their latchkey adolescents had begun to fuel a demand for recreational drugs; gangs overtook the inner cities to deal to users — while disproportionately maiming and killing each other in the ensuing turf wars; addicts dropped out of the workforce and/or began to commit crimes in support of their addictions, contributing to mass incarceration and a still-proliferating homelessness crisis; violent crime rates hit new highs in the 1980s and 1990s, divorce rates climbed and, in a mea culpa that is just now beginning to make the rounds, Brooks’ assertion that the nuclear family was a mistake.

Is this chain of events purely a fluke?

Second-wave feminism did not occur in a vacuum. The U.S. was left with a sky-high bill for the cost of rebuilding Europe after WWII and for our subsequent commitment to NATO. Against a Cold War backdrop we pursued a costly nuclear arms buildup, sparking fears not only of a “hot war” but of ballooning deficits. In the span of only a few decades, the United States went from an isolationist foreign policy to one of unprecedented global responsibility, which demanded two things as a means to assure our national security interests: rapid economic growth and an increase in the tax base — meaning more working-age adults, male and female alike, in the labor market. Fast forward to the 21st Century, and women and children are still lacking in access to affordable childcare, healthcare and other quality (or equality) of life and family indicators one might expect in a First World country.

Against this backdrop, is it any surprise that the Millennial generation is inclined to believe that the only way to achieve a work-life balance is to challenge the Capitalist system their mothers and grandmothers worked so hard to participate in? Similarly, might falling marriage and birthrates among Millennials, first noted among Generation-X, who were themselves less financially secure than their parents, explain why politicians and pundits increasingly condemn efforts to distinguish between legal and illegal immigration? Do our leaders genuinely believe unsecured borders pose no terrorism risk or that limits to immigration carry xenophobic overtones — or is it the case, rather, that our deficit-riddled federal government would rather open the door to “pyramid scheme migration” than implement family-supportive policies that may serve, much as they have in socialist countries, to curb precipitous demographic declines?

If these observations are in any way prescient, they illustrate one of the most ironic, if not tragic, developments in the entirety of this Great Experiment: whereas the Soviet Union disbanded into a quasi-Capitalist Russian state, Americans are increasingly inclined to romanticize the greener grass on the other side of the socialist fence. To bring this full circle, we must ask a fundamental question: How historically certain are we that the second-wave women’s liberation movement was entirely grassroots in nature? For all that it ultimately came to represent in the 1970s and beyond, is it possible the U.S. government’s early efforts to gain the upper hand in the Cold War were so all-encompassing that it motivated policymakers — who were largely answerable to traditional values-driven voters — to disavow social engineering efforts that were too radical to endorse outright? Could this explain, in turn, why Steinem — who at the face of it might have been expected to be at odds with a male-dominated, hierarchical government — said of her relationship to the CIA, “In my experience The Agency was completely different from its image; it was liberal, nonviolent and honorable.”?

To reflect upon Steinem’s words, perhaps the radicalism-driven image we hold today obscures the Cold War-combating cooperation that existed in those days, in defiance to its apparent contradictions.

While it may be a bridge too far to assert, as some do, that second-wave feminism weakened the family unit and made more Americans dependent upon government for their welfare, there is no getting around the fact that Cold War posturing backed the United States and the former Soviet Union into ideological corners from which we have only recently begun to emerge. The question is, what does that emergence look like? Will it take the form of a more family-friendly version of Capitalism — or a wholesale exodus to a Socialist future in which economic growth, even more so than our European counterparts, is stifled by the impossible burden of over-ambitious entitlements we can ill afford to keep?

We now have seen two, if not three, generations of Americans faced with untenable choices: one in which they attain the education, career and financial stability necessary to support a family but are severely delayed if not denied the opportunity by virtue of a prolonged pursuit; the other in which life stages such as marriage and family are realized within traditional time frames, but all too often without the requisite skills and economic mobility to adequately sustain those choices. A generation of political leaders has done so little to address real-world domestic concerns — to include a wholesale failure to shore up the entitlements retiring baby boomers will soon deplete!  — that Americans have been conditioned to expect inaction. Nonetheless, failed leadership has begun to extract a price: Faith in the Great Experiment itself.

A government in which top elected representatives spend their time appearing on Right vs. Left-wing media to shift blame is a government that is actively deflecting from its collective public policy failures.

How do we derive change from division, reform from partisan gridlock and pragmatic progress from ideological purity?

As American citizens, do we still believe, as our idealistic counterparts of the 1960s did, in the power of activism? Are reform efforts best served in an ideology-driven sociopolitical climate — with or without our current president to blame! — in which an ever-expanding federal government continues to serve every cause but our own?

Much like the 1960s, we are at a crossroads. We can plunge down the rabbit-hole to a post-nuclear family oblivion, polarized and unappreciative that our passions have been exploited, our energies redirected and our problems unchanged. We can bog down in the weeds of identity politics — conservative/liberal, male/female, black/white, they/them, majority/minority, secular/religious, Capitalism/Socialism. Alternately, we can identify the challenges we share in common as a means to evolve what is really at stake: a better work-life-opportunity balance.

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