On Woke's Subtle Graces

 by EW Wilder

Writing in the July 2023 edition of Harper's, Ian Buruma makes the following errors:

• He accepts the far rightwing definition of "woke" which, rather than being a blanket term for social justice awareness, more likely has its roots in the need for Black Americans to stay aware of their surroundings in order to avoid trouble (or worse) in the Jim Crow South.

• He conflates Anabaptists' baptism conventions with other Protestant traditions of public confession and implies they are parallel to Catholic confession of sin. The Anabaptist conventions are theologically distinct.

• He argues by analogy that Puritan traditions of "doing the work" equate with contemporary corporate statements on social justice issues.

The latter is at the core of his argument, so let's delve into it.

Arguing by analogy is always fraught, and while it's true that vestiges of Puritanism can be found throughout American secular culture, chances are the corporate statements Buruma excoriates are more public relations stunts than they are any expression of real ideological of even political positions. Rightly, Buruma points out the widespread hypocrisy of these statements, coming as they do from companies—such as Amazon—that have a poor history of giving a rip about their workers. But hypocrisy is a longstanding part of corporate life. If Buruma is scandalized by giant companies saying they support #BLM while simultaneously funneling money to the campaigns of racist politicians, wait until he discovers the falseness of their statements that "employee safety is our highest priority" or that clearly terrible customer policies are being implemented "to better serve you."

The only people who are scandalized or even surprised by the hypocrisies of the boardroom aren't, well, "woke" enough to write comprehensively about the subject.

Later in the essay, Buruma puts scare quotes around "'structural'" racism, as if redlining, Jim Crow laws, and race-based gerrymandering never existed, or, indeed, in the case of the latter, don't continue to plague us.

He ends up noting that Democrats, if they want to win, need to de-emphasize social justice issues in their campaigns, lawmaking, and public statements in favor of economic ones. But this is also hardly profound; it was the basis of Bernie Sanders's campaign strategy, after all, and it was a popular enough stance for establishment Democrats with strong corporate ties to quash the Sanders campaign in 2016. So, at best, Buruma's essay is about a decade too late. At worst, though, it helps feed the rightwing hate machine, which, as Ron DeSantis's politics embody, is actively using "woke" as a wedge issue.

Buruma's stance, though, also elides a very serious problem: a lot of White working and middle class Americans are, quite simply, racists. I'm not sure what Buruma's life has been like, but, as a cis/het/middle-class White guy from the Great Plains, I can attest to the fact that racist attitudes are both common and open in all-White spaces, especially informal ones. Behind the barn, over lunch or coffee, at family gatherings, when White people of my demographic get together, jokes about Black and Brown people are often thrown around like a baseball in a game of catch. It's ugly, but it's true.

And the fact that certain swing voters went for Barack Obama once or even twice does not make them not racist. Obama worked for years on making his personal brand acceptable to the White power base, the white electorate. Putting Joe Biden on the ticket, a man who openly used terms like "clean" and "articulate" to describe Obama, was a strategy to appeal to voters who would themselves use those terms to describe an "acceptable" Black person. Like Bill Cosby before him and Clarence Thomas now, Obama knew how to play the White man's game, and he was rewarded for it. It also helped that the economic collapse of 2008 made a message of "hope" and "change" resonate. That many of these same voters reverted to vote for the clearly racist Donald Trump eight years later just adds evidence to the idea that a deeply racist White middle-America is happy to use a Black man to get what it wants and is happy to return to form when it senses that the Other is getting too "uppity."

Buruma goes on to note that globalization has benefited those he deems, in a distortion of Protestant tradition, "the Elect," and that he is among them. He contends that these so-called Elect benefit from virtue-signaling. I admit that I have no idea who his "Elect" are or how they differ from the people (many of them Jewish) the far right deem "the elite" (or, if you're Donald Trump "the a-leet"). Professors and other academics are supposedly part of this cohort, but, as one of their number, I don't see how globalization has helped or hurt me very much one way or the other. The internationalism Buruma cites—the ability for academics to cross international boundaries to collaborate—seems indistinguishable from jet travel, something theoretically more open to the coal miners who once made close to six figures a year than to underpaid profs. But virtue-signaling and benefiting from global trade are unrelated: just ask Rupert Murdoch. Oil companies seeking new markets, manufacturers looking to outsource, and the largely (and vocally) libertarian tech industry looking for cheaper coders from overseas, not to mention uber-wealthy investors looking for a tax dodge, seem to all have benefited from globalization more than anyone else. Few of these entities have a history of even paying lip service to social justice issues, unlike retailers, whose presence in local communities creates a need to appeal to local populations. Retailers, while globalization has allowed them to offer cheaper products, can't offshore their workforce, and they have been among the first to raise starting wages in the years since the pandemic.

Counter to what Buruma seems to think, so-called "wokeism" actually has benefited me as an instructor at a small college, and in practical terms. I serve a diverse student body, and I have to run classrooms and virtual spaces in which Black, immigrant, and LGBT+ people feel safe alongside the White, cis, het, and native born. Besides, this stuff is real: not only is structural racism still alive and well in our congressional districting, gay and trans kids still get bullied, their lives and bodies continue to be sanctioned against by rightwing state and local governments and school boards, and women's representation and wages still lag in business and tech fields.

As someone who spent seven-and-a-half years working alongside the public mental health system, I have seen how economic inequality can impact lives in a massively negative way. Generational poverty is more often the cause of mental health problems than the result of it. But as most progressives realize, addressing economic inequality alone won't solve all social justice issues. There was, after all, a strong Black middle class even when much of America was segregated, and the sexual orientation of Apple CEO Tim Cook didn't stop eleven gay kids who live in a wealthy suburb of my home town from attempting suicide one recent fall semester due to bullying at school and lack of acceptance at home.

Instead of just ceding the "woke" ground to the rightwing, just as liberals have ceded faith and finance and free speech, the left needs to start doing what it used to do: it needs to start educating the public. The rightwing has spent four decades filling the radio airwaves and cable TV signals with its vitriol and hate, while the left has largely sat on its hands. The left needs to raise consciousness; it needs to be unapologetic about issues of gender and race and sexual orientation as well as about issues of economic inequality. This messaging needs to be accurate and frequent and clear.

Indeed, if there's one thing that Americans admire more than anything else, a quality that surpasses ideology and identity in the American mind, it's confidence. Trump won not because he had anything substantive to say—he still doesn't—but because he spouts his nonsense and lies with utter conviction. This is the lesson that we on the left need to learn: not that we need to be less woke, but that we need to be righteous in our commitment to the cause. 

 

Photo credit: "woke" by Bob Larsen 

The Latent Heat of Victimization

by Lael Ewy

At first, it would seem odd that a nation bent on social climbing, personal betterment, and the acquisition of wealth would also be so enamored of victimization.

On further reflection, though, it makes sense: if we gear everything for competition, we have to have something to do with all the losers. And, more important, the losers have to have some type of identity other than “loser,” which is, in the United States, a much worse label than “died trying,” or even “cheated his way to the top.”

In some cases, the victim identity can be a way of bringing attention to real social inequities: those exposing racism, sexism, and rape culture have all successfully “played the victim card” in order to help the rest of us see the real problem for what it is. For some people who are victimized by their social conditions, publicizing victimization brings unexpected social power, such as in the case of Emmett Till, a 14-year old lynched in 1955. Till's mother insisted that his body be publicly displayed in order to show the brutality of the crime perpetrated against him, helping to further the cause of the Civil Rights movement of the time.

Inevitably, this necessary demonstration of social evil creates backlash among those on the wrong side of history via claims that it's not as bad as the victims say (“They were happier when they were slaves.”), that those pressing their social cause are undeserving (“They're faking,” or “They're gaming the system.”), that they had it coming anyway (“If you dress like that, you're asking for it.”), or that they are, themselves, the victimizers (“Feminazis.”).

The advantages of victimhood are, while powerful, by nature also limited: once the victim identity has been publicly acknowledged and attention to the cause secured, incremental court decisions or legislative changes are made, and then those in power, satisfied that they have “fixed it” go on doing their thing, which is staying in power. This, then, marks the end of the social power of victimhood and where the limitations of the individual power of victimhood become apparent. The victim, by using that term in order to gain power, finds that she only has power within that frame and can never again step beyond it and back into full, human identity. The disabled person may be able to press her case for a reasonable accommodation using the Americans with Disabilities Act, for example, but that does not guarantee access to executive positions, marriage partners, or academic appointments,

Both despite and because of the advent of things like Affirmative Action and the ADA, the power structure goes out of its way to increase the barriers to moving forward and moving up. “We've given you what you want,” the powerful seem to say, “now shut up and go away.” Understanding this attitude is key to understanding the sources of institutional discrimination and how oppression becomes structural. By setting up structural barriers, those in power protect themselves and those like them. As demographics shift, you'll see (and probably have already seen) the traditional, white, male power structure become ever stronger, the reins of power ever more difficult to take in hand for those who haven't proven their loyalty to the status quo.

Reverse victimization plays into the ways the powerful stay in power. Donald Trump insist that those whom he insulted apologize to him; white students claim “reverse discrimination” when they don't get into the college they want to get into; whole political movements rise to power on the idea that we need to “take America back” from the teeming mob who stole it from them. Those who play this game often fail to realize its limitations, that they, too, will be duped by the truly powerful people who help them promote their sense of victimization. The poor and middle class white people riding Trumpist and Tea Party politics will, if history is any indication, be no better off or even lose ground under the leadership they promote. This is just fine with those who stand to gain from such sentiments among the hoi polloi: after all, the Tea Party backers won't be “losers”; they'll be the perpetual victims of black people, brown people, and inner-city “welfare cheats,” perpetually able to be called upon to add “populist” credibility to what are essentially authoritarian political figures.

The culture of right-wing victimization has not yet, like the left, begun to move past the language of victimization and into the language of survivorship. Survivors of sexual assault, for example, have begun to harness this new power in order to be seen as credible brokers in dismantling rape culture on college campuses and in communicating a deeper understanding of how to end rape culture on the whole. The #blacklivesmatter movement has received criticism for its directness and for not being the squeaky-clean thing that white folks want it to be. That arises from #blacklivesmatter being made up of people who refuse to play the victim in the first place: the movement gets criticized because it's no longer possible to ignore. The white power structure had become comfortable with the image of the black victim—of poverty, racism, and overall downtroddenness. As long as there were black victims, whites could take comfort in a kind of well-meaning but entirely patronizing sympathy, to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. as a fallen national hero, to declare a black history month, and to mention Kwanzaa in defense of a “happy holidays” greeting. This is the same mentality that promotes the idea of the “Magical Negro” (noted by Spike Lee in regards to such characters as Bagger Vance) and safe sidekicks such as Danny Glover's character in the Lethal Weapon franchise. This safe view is distinctly challenged by the idea that black people are also allowed to be, you know, people.

In the mental health field, the antipsychiatry movement of the '60s and '70s transformed into the “consumer” movement of the '80s and '90s and into an “illness” movement of the '90s and '00s. The idea was that by identifying as “the mentally ill,” as victims of a blameless disease, suffering people would gain access to treatment, decent housing, and disability benefits. The “it's better than being on the streets” mentality has grown to embrace an acceptance of psychiatric incarceration, anathema to early activists.

The real danger looming in all this is that if people move beyond victimization and into survivorship, they might become assimilated into a culture that they don't recognize, and that people may lose their identity in the process. Can a black American be both an American and black when one of the defining features of American culture is structural racism? This is the field upon which Barack Obama has played out his political career, and the deep contradictions it creates can be seen in the deep contradictions of his administration: successfully bailing out some of the least deserving parts of the power structure, such as Wall Street and General Motors, while simultaneously challenging that power structure in the realm of gay rights. President Obama ground his entire political machine into dust in order to pass the Affordable Care Act, an immensely compromised attempt to expand access to health care that also carefully maintained the least deserving part of it: the profits of private insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies.

A fuller understanding of how power works in the US is in order, one that goes beyond the simple mechanisms of victim and perpetrator, loser and winner. Kimberlé Crenshaw's ideas about intersectionality move toward this, and may prove vital in understanding how power works in a nation in which there is no official, hereditary class structure. We are far from the point at which we can make such ideas meme-worthy, though, and you'd be hard-pressed to hear them discussed in a seven-minute spot on NPR, much less a two-and-a-half minute piece on the CBS Evening News.

Our next step, then, is not to create another reactionary political uprising, but to foment a genuine social movement that can articulate a vision of a future of both genuine equality and robust cultural diversity.