This wonderful essay marks the passing of James Foreman with a great discussion about the difficulty of creating change, and questions whether simply recreating the Right's communication machinery is enough. Wonderful essay, wonderful thinking.
Body and Soul: "Walk together, children. Don't you get weary".
I also struggle against the simplified and non-threatening story of
Rosa Parks she hears in school: One day Rosa Parks got tired of being
demeaned -- or maybe her feet just hurt -- and she said no. She refused
to budge. And that changed everything.
Girl power! Let's make a Disney movie starring Raven!
Oh, Lord, no. Not at all. In the first place, Rosa Parks wasn't even
the first black person arrested for refusing to move to the back of the
bus. That act of defiance had to occur several times
before anyone beyond the community where it happened heard about it.
Sometimes courage better be its own reward, because that's all the
reward it's going to get. Equally important, it's an insult to Rosa
Parks, and a gross distortion of how much hard work and knowledge
underlies change, to portray her as a simple seamstress suddenly moved
by an instinct for self-actualization.
A single line in a tribute to James Forman in today's Washington Post haunts me:
You have to constantly think about what it is you are really fighting for, Jim taught us.
We still don't do enough of that.
Some of the smartest commentary I have read since the election has
focused on the need to create an equivalent of the machine
conservatives began to build after Goldwater's defeat in 1964. I more
or less agree with that, but a couple of things about the idea nag me.
The first is the assumption that you can tell the truth using the same
techniques as a lie machine. I have my doubts. If we have a model, it's
not the right-wing's method of perpetrating lies, it's the civil rights
movement's methods of revealing the truth.
The second problem is more fundamental. I think there is too much
concern with the machine, and not enough with what goes in the machine.
We need to think about, write about, talk about, what we're really
fighting for. Not what scraps and compromises we can get. What we're
fighting for.
I'd like to think that James Forman would have appreciated a good man's cri de coeur,
and reminded us that the advantage of dealing with brutal people whose
actions are completely indefensible is that we're constantly reminded
of what we're fighting against.
That's not enough, but it's a start.