Ta-Nehisi Coates's Blog, page 46

If I Were a Black Kid...

Here's a question from yesterday's comments:

Here is a thought experiment -- I do not pose this as an argument, or a "gotcha" proposition. I seriously want to hear this speech: TNC, if you are invited to your high school, Baltimore Polytechnic (thanks Wikipedia! P.S.: that you are not listed as a notable Alumnus is BS) and asked to speak to the students, what would you say? You're not allowed to give an impersonal, professorial talk about your academic interests. Let's assume the people who have invited you really want to know what you think they should do as individuals, and what they should do as a community, in order to achieve the kind of success in life that you have earned.
The large majority are good kids: driven, hungering for success and a sense of self, and desperately looking up to you for encouragement and advice, to somehow move them, even if they are too cool to show it. It's a pretty good school, but you are exceptional, and deep down, they want to be valued like you are valued. They want to be exceptional too. Sprinkled in the audience are also a bunch of fools who are making terrible choices and wrecking their own lives and hurting their community. But for this one hour, regardless of whether they have chosen to actively build up or tear down their lives and their community, they are ALL listening. You've got the mic. What would you say?

Well, first, I would say that you should be careful with Wikipedia. I did, in fact, attend Baltimore Polytechnic Institute ("Poly" for short). But the reason I am not listed as a notable alumnus is probably that I didn't graduate from there. Oh, and here is something else -- I was asked to leave. Twice. The first time, my parents argued for me to be readmitted. The second time they just threw up their hands and said -- "Fool, you are on your own." 
I was 16. I'd been arrested for assaulting a teacher and suspended on suspicion of assaulting another teacher. In my last year there, I got into a really huge fight in which I took a steel trash can to the head and then promptly failed four out of seven classes that year. I actually failed English. (You can read all about my lovely adventures with the Baltimore City Public Schools here.) So, you see, it is highly unlikely that I would ever be invited back to Poly to address the students. My older brother Malik, who also went to Poly and has gone on to work for Dreamworks, would be a much better candidate.
But, weirdly enough, I often do get asked to speak to predominantly black schools. Last year, I had the honor of going back to the site of my old middle school and spending a day with the kids. My mother teaches in Baltimore County and I've gone out and talked to her kids. I've even talked to the kids at Poly's longtime rival -- City College. I'm pretty sure the teachers bring me in because they believe my checkered background might mean I have something to say to them.
What I generally try to do is avoid messages about "hard work" and "homework," not because I think those things are unimportant, but because I think they put the cart before the horse. The two words I try to use with them are "excitement" and "entrepreneurial." I try to get them to think of education as something more than just pleasing their teachers, but as a ticket out into a world so grand and stunning that it defies their imagination. My belief is that, if I can get them to understand the "why?" of education, then the effort and hard work and long study hours will come after. I don't know how true that is in practice, but given that I am asked to speak from my own experience, that is the lesson I have drawn.
This will come as somewhat depressing news, but one of the main reasons I wanted to go to Poly was to get away from the violence that dogged virtually every other Baltimore city high school. That didn't exactly work out as I planned it. But my point is that my childhood -- and my education -- was largely guided by the need to negotiate violence. When teachers talked to us about why we needed to succeed, they talked about not ending up dead, or not ending up in jail. 
Much like President Obama's own rhetoric, this line of conversation is understandable, and it has its uses. A lot of us were killing and being killed. A lot of us really were going to jail. My parents generally talked the same way, and in their case, I have to say it was largely successful. In a few days, I am going to see my younger brother sworn as a lawyer in the state of Maryland. My father has seven kids. All of them hail from in and around West Baltimore. All of them, except me, graduated from college. Perhaps that makes the point. But I know how close I came to the edge. And I think a part of that was that not getting shot and not going to jail simply wasn't enough to make want to succeed in school. No one ever told me about Paris. No one I knew had ever been.
What I have come to believe is that children are more than what their circumstance put upon them. So my goal is to get kids to own their education. I don't think I can hector them into doing this. I don't think I can shame them into doing it. I do think that might be able to affect some sort of internal motivation. So I try to get them to see that every subject they study has the potential to open up a universe. I really mean this. 
I went to the Aspen Ideas Festival in 2008, and I still was, very much, a product of my 'hood. I could not believe what I was seeing. There was a guy next to me who had been old friends with Peter Jennings. He was retired. He had tales about taking Peter Jennings' boat out sailing. He talked about how he'd spent the day up at the Continental Divide with his dog. He loved his life. His only trouble was that he couldn't convince his wife to retire. 
Negro, I didn't even know what the Continental Divide was. And I remember thinking, "People actually live like this. Like, we're doing this now?" And then I remember thinking, "I want to live like that." By which I meant, I wanted to see things. If this was one world far from mine, there must be other worlds. And I really wanted to see them. 
I recall sitting in my seventh-grade French class repeating over and over "Il fait froid. Il fait chaud." Why was I learning French? Who did I know that spoke French? Where is France? Do they even really talk like this? Well, yeah, they kinda do. I figured that out at 37. And now I find myself clutching flashcards, repeating "Il fait froid. Il fait chaud." This summer, I am going to live with my family in Paris for eight weeks and study the language. I had no idea that education could make that possible. If I had been more serious about education, the opportunity would have come a lot sooner.
So when I talk to young black kids, I try to talk about the "why?" as much as the "what?" And, for the record, I do the same thing at MIT. I start my class explaining that learning to write is their moral duty. I told them they had access to more information that 99 percent of all humans who have ever lived. It is a moral duty to learn how to communicate that information, clearly and compellingly. I think everyone should own their education.
I don't know if any of that works. But I am convinced that my problem was mere laziness or a lack of work ethic. Work ethics don't magically appear. Mine is most evidenced when I understand why I am working and when I find that "Why" compelling. I never really had that as a student. "Try harder" has to have some actual meaning beyond sloganeering.
At this point I am fairly well self-educated, though I have many weaknesses which I likely would not have had, if I'd really gotten a proper and challenging education. (St. Augustine, stats, grammar, genetics etc.) I'm not ashamed of this. It's just a fact. But I also know that if I'd understood, as a youth, what education can give you, that a degree was not simply a matter of being "Twice As Good" but a key to bearing witness to "Twice As Much," I might have made better choices.         

Color-Blind Policy and Color-Conscious Morality

I wanted to circle back to a post I wrote some weeks ago looking at the ways in which the president addresses black America. (Here are two critiques of that piece from Andrew Sullivan and Jim Fallows.) One reason I've focused on the ways racism perpetuates itself in seemingly color-blind policy is to challenge the theory that a rising tide lifts all boats. I think it is important to raise such a challenge as we consider a president who generally advocates for for color-blind policies while arguing for a color-conscious morality.
To wit, here is the president in 2007 at Brown Chapel A.M.E in Selma:

But I'll tell you what -- even as I fight on behalf of more education funding, more equity, I have to also say that, if parents don't turn off the television set when the child comes home from school and make sure they sit down and do their homework and go talk to the teachers and find out how they're doing, and if we don't start instilling a sense in our young children that there is nothing to be ashamed about in educational achievement, I don't know who taught them that reading and writing and conjugating your verbs was something white.

Here is the president in 2008 in Chicago:

Yes, we need more money for our schools, and more outstanding teachers in the classroom, and more afterschool programs for our children. Yes, we need more jobs and more job training and more opportunity in our communities.

But we also need families to raise our children. We need fathers to realize that responsibility does not end at conception. We need them to realize that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child -- it's the courage to raise one... 

It's up to us -- as fathers and parents -- to instill this ethic of excellence in our children. It's up to us to say to our daughters, don't ever let images on TV tell you what you are worth, because I expect you to dream without limit and reach for those goals. It's up to us to tell our sons, those songs on the radio may glorify violence, but in my house we give glory to achievement, self respect, and hard work. It's up to us to set these high expectations.

Here is the president again in 2008:

We cannot use injustice as an excuse. We can't use poverty as an excuse. There are things under our control that we've got to attend to.

In 2008 at the NAACP convention:

That's why if we're serious about reclaiming that dream, we have to do more in our own lives, our own families, and our own communities. That starts with providing the guidance our children need, turning off the TV, and putting away the video games; attending those parent-teacher conferences, helping our children with their homework, and setting a good example. 

In 2009 at the NAACP convention:

To parents -- to parents, we can't tell our kids to do well in school and then fail to support them when they get home.  (Applause.)  You can't just contract out parenting.  For our kids to excel, we have to accept our responsibility to help them learn.  That means putting away the Xbox -- (applause) -- putting our kids to bed at a reasonable hour.  (Applause.)

In 2009:

And I've said it before and I know I may sound like a broken record, but I'm going to say it again:  Government alone cannot get our children to the Promised Land.  (Applause.)  Government can't put away the PlayStation. .. These are things only a mother can do and a father can do.  These are things that a parent can do.  (Applause.)

And so it goes.

I think Barack Obama's defense of his rhetoric would be something like the following: "I am very much aware of the country's long history of racist public policy, a history whose effects continue today. But doing more about those effects requires a political will than cannot be mustered in a country populated by people who have long endorsed those policies. Thinking in a globally competitive context, it is critically important that African-American not just close the achievement gap but excel. We are now in a situation where we have only ourselves to depend on."

This is the theory of "Twice as Good," and it has great currency in the African-American community. You can read my thoughts on "Twice as Good" in this essayish profile of Bill Cosby. Toward the end of my reporting, Cosby said something that sticks with me even today:

If you looked at me and said, 'Why is he doing this? Why right now?,' you could probably say, 'He's having a resurgence of his childhood.' What do I need if I am a child today? I need people to guide me. I need the possibility of change. I need people to stop saying I can't pull myself up by my own bootstraps. They say that's a myth. But these other people have their mythical stories -- why can't we have our own?"

I read that and it still stirs me today, in much the same way that Obama's speech stirred Morehouse. The most motivating feature of "Twice as Good" is that it promises agency -- a world where we need not plead and cajole, where we do not have to get our head cracked in order to get white people to do the right thing. When Barack Obama makes a moral appeal, he is not performing a Sista Souljah tactic. He is speaking sincere beliefs that run deep in his community. I happen to think those beliefs elide some difficult truths about the nature of power. 

In the case of the president, I think they elide the fact that there are actual policy steps he could be taking and isn't. I think yesterday's post on marijuana busts really brings this home. You will not find me among those arguing for deadbeat dads. But putting away the X-Box will not change those incredible arrest numbers. Policy will. As it stands, the president is on the wrong side of that policy:

Recently, there have been increasing efforts to legalize marijuana. The Obama administration has consistently reiterated its firm opposition to any form of drug legalization. Together with Federal partners and state and local officials, the Office of National Drug Control Policy is working to reduce the use of marijuana and other illicit drugs through development of strategies that fully integrate the principles of prevention, treatment, recovery, and effective supply reduction efforts. Proposals such as legalization that would promote marijuana use are inconsistent with this public health and safety approach

Beyond that, I would argue that the current black predicament did not arise because black people lacked sufficient moral will. I would argue that we recognize this in other communities and their own predicaments. It would not be productive for the president to go before a white working-class Appalachian audience and say, "We know that economic unfairness exists, and has long existed, but government programs won't keep your kids off meth and painkillers." The fact that meth and painkiller addiction is higher in those communities, that one in ten kids born in Appalachia was born addicted to drugs, would not be seen as relevant to, say, a jobs program.
Nor would it be productive or wise for the president to go before a primarily Hispanic audience and say "We know that the DREAM Act is the right thing to do, but what you really need to do is keep your babies from having more babies." The fact that the Hispanic community has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the country would not be seen as relevant to, say, immigration reform.

And it would not be productive or wise for the president to go before an audience of Native Americans and say, "Yes, this country stole your land and prosecuted a ruthless war against you, but what would really help now is if you stopped your kids from drinking so much." The high rate of alcoholism among Native Americans would not be seen as relevant. And as I've said, it would not be wise for the president to go to Newtown and point to the absence of active fatherhood in the life of Adam Lanza. 

But for some reason all of these kinds of statements are appropriate in the black community. Not because of higher rates of anything, and it not even because the president is black. They're seen as appropriate because there a deep belief -- even among black people -- that morality lies at the seat of our troubles. This is why Bill Clinton, in 1993,  delivered this speech in Memphis, where he attempted to speak as a modern day Martin Luther King:

"I fought for freedom," he would say, "but not for the freedom of people to kill each other with reckless abandon, not for the freedom of children to impregnate each other with babies and then abandon them, nor for the freedom of adult fathers of children to walk away from the children they created and abandon them, as if they didn't amount to anything."

He would say, "This is not what I lived and died for. I fought to stop white people from being so filled with hate that they would wreak violence on black people. I did not fight for the right of black people to murder other black people on a daily basis. "

This is very similar to the kind of appeal Barack Obama makes when he addresses black audiences today. The neighborhoods where black people shoot at each other are the work of racist social engineering. We know this. But we do not say it, because there is almost no political upside. Instead we hand-wave at racism and pretend that individual black morality might overcome many centuries of wrong:

Folks are complaining about the quality of our government, I understand there's something to be complaining about. I'm in Washington. I see what's going on. I see those powers and principales have snuck back in there, that they're writing the energy bills and the drug laws.  We understand that, but I'll tell you what. I also know that, if cousin Pookie would vote, get off the couch and register some folks and go to the polls, we might have a different kind of politics.

But Cousin Pookie did vote -- at historic levels, no less. And Cousin Pookie's preferred candidate has taken that vote and continued about the business of busting all the other Pookies out there for things the candidate did in his youth. And those busts are happening at rates well beyond Pookie's other American neighbors. There is no reason to think this will change any time soon. 

That saddens me. 
I don't think I'll be breaking any news by pointing out that I'm a fan of the president. And I am not a fan simply because he is black and smart. We have a lot of that. I am a fan of his uncommon imagination. I am thinking of that moment in his address on drone policy a few weeks ago when the president was heckled. Instead of shouting down the protester, he acknowledged her point. And it's not so much that this acknowledgment reflected some deep insight, it was that it was the kind of generosity and wisdom that we are not used to seeing from those who wield existential power. And this actually extends to race. Whatever my critique of his 2008 race speech (and I have one), it's very hard to argue that -- within the context of American history -- the speech is not an incredible document. (Very few Americans even know what redlining is.) 
My disappointment with how Obama addresses black people originates in the fact that I believe he, quite literally, knows better and could do better. It is not enough to point out that crowds of black people cheer him on. Greatness demands that you not just make people cheer, that you not just grant them "Oh my people" catharsis, but that you make them think. This is about legacy. This is about asking whether "First Black President" will simply be an accidental honorific. 

I think back to Barack Obama's favorite president -- Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln is my favorite, too. What I remember about Lincoln is that, in his last public speech, he committed himself to suffrage for black men who'd fought for their freedom in the Civil War. This would have been (and eventually was) a major step in the long war toward true democracy. The next day, Lincoln was shot for his willingness to make that step. He is my favorite for more than his ability to forge compromise. He is my favorite because he is, at the end of the day, a man who laid down his life in a war against our greatest illness -- white supremacy.

What does such a legacy call those of us who admire Lincoln to then do? Is it enough to make the kind of individual moral appeals we hear at family reunions and church services every year? Is it enough to simply speak words that make those who love us most cheer? Or all we ultimately called to something more?        

Color-Blind Policy And Color-Conscious Morality

I wanted to circle back to a post I wrote some weeks ago looking at the ways in which the president addresses black America. (Here are two critiques of that piece from Andrew Sullivan and Jim Fallows.) One reason I've focused on the ways racism perpetuates itself in seemingly color-blind policy is to challenge the theory that a rising tide lifts all boats. I think it is important to raise such a challenge as we consider a president who generally advocates for for color-blind policies while arguing for a color-conscious morality.
To wit, here is the president in 2007 at Brown Chapel A.M.E in Selma:

But I'll tell you what -- even as I fight on behalf of more education funding, more equity, I have to also say that , if parents don't turn off the television set when the child comes home from school and make sure they sit down and do their homework and go talk to the teachers and find out how they're doing, and if we don't start instilling a sense in our young children that there is nothing to be ashamed about in educational achievement, I don't know who taught them that reading and writing and conjugating your verbs was something white.

Here is the president in 2008 in Chicago:

Yes, we need more money for our schools, and more outstanding teachers in the classroom, and more afterschool programs for our children. Yes, we need more jobs and more job training and more opportunity in our communities.

But we also need families to raise our children. We need fathers to realize that responsibility does not end at conception. We need them to realize that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child - it's the courage to raise one... 

It's up to us - as fathers and parents - to instill this ethic of excellence in our children. It's up to us to say to our daughters, don't ever let images on TV tell you what you are worth, because I expect you to dream without limit and reach for those goals. It's up to us to tell our sons, those songs on the radio may glorify violence, but in my house we give glory to achievement, self respect, and hard work. It's up to us to set these high expectations.

Here is the president again in 2008:

We cannot use injustice as an excuse. We can't use poverty as an excuse. There are things under our control that we've got to attend to.

In 2008 at the NAACP convention:

That's why if we're serious about reclaiming that dream, we have to do more in our own lives, our own families, and our own communities. That starts with providing the guidance our children need, turning off the TV, and putting away the video games; attending those parent-teacher conferences, helping our children with their homework, and setting a good example. 

In 2009 at the NAACP convention:

To parents -- to parents, we can't tell our kids to do well in school and then fail to support them when they get home.  (Applause.)  You can't just contract out parenting.  For our kids to excel, we have to accept our responsibility to help them learn.  That means putting away the Xbox -- (applause) -- putting our kids to bed at a reasonable hour.  (Applause.)

In 2009:

And I've said it before and I know I may sound like a broken record, but I'm going to say it again:  Government alone cannot get our children to the Promised Land.  (Applause.)  Government can't put away the PlayStation. .. These are things only a mother can do and a father can do.  These are things that a parent can do.  (Applause.)

And so it goes.

I think Barack Obama's defense of his rhetoric would be something like the following: "I am very much aware of the country's long history of racist public policy, a history whose effects continue today. But doing more about those effects requires a political will than cannot be mustered in a country populated by people who have long endorsed those policies. Thinking in a globally competitive context, it is critically important that African-American not just close the achievement gap but excel. We are now in a situation where we have only ourselves to depend on."

This is the theory of "Twice As Good," and it has great currency in the African-American community. You can read my thoughts on "Twice As Good" in this essayish profile of Bill Cosby. Toward the end of my reporting, Cosby said something that sticks with me even today:

If you looked at me and said, 'Why is he doing this? Why right now?,' you could probably say, 'He's having a resurgence of his childhood.' What do I need if I am a child today? I need people to guide me. I need the possibility of change. I need people to stop saying I can't pull myself up by my own bootstraps. They say that's a myth. But these other people have their mythical stories--why can't we have our own?"

I read that and it still stirs me today, in much the same way that Obama's speech stirred Morehouse. The most motivating feature of "Twice As Good" is that it promises agency-- a world where we need not plead and cajole, where we do not have to get our head cracked in order to get white people to do the right thing. When Barack Obama makes a moral appeal, he is not performing a Sista Souljah tactic. He is speaking sincere beliefs that run deep in his community. I happen to think those beliefs elide some difficult truths about the nature of power. 

In the case of the president, I think they elide the fact that there are actual policy steps he could be taking and isn't. I think yesterday's post on marijuana busts really brings this home. You will not find me among those arguing for deadbeat dads. But putting away the X-Box will not change those incredible arrest numbers. Policy will. As it stands, the president is on the wrong side of that policy:

Recently, there have been increasing efforts to legalize marijuana. The Obama administration has consistently reiterated its firm opposition to any form of drug legalization. Together with Federal partners and state and local officials, the Office of National Drug Control Policy is working to reduce the use of marijuana and other illicit drugs through development of strategies that fully integrate the principles of prevention, treatment, recovery, and effective supply reduction efforts. Proposals such as legalization that would promote marijuana use are inconsistent with this public health and safety approach

Beyond that, I would argue that the current black predicament did not arise because black people lacked sufficient moral will. I would argue that we recognize this in other communities and their own predicaments. It would not be productive for the president to go before a white working-class Appalachian audience and say, "We know that economic unfairness exists, and has long existed, but government programs won't keep your kids off meth and painkillers." The fact that meth and painkiller addiction is higher in those communities, that one in ten kids born an Appalachia was born addicted to drugs, would not be seen as relevant to, say, a jobs program.
Nor would it be productive or wise for the president to go before a primarily Hispanic audience and say "We know that the DREAM Act is the right thing to do, but what you really need to do is keep your babies from having more babies." The fact that the Hispanic community has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the country would not be seen as relevant to, say, immigration reform.

And it would not be productive or wise for the president to go before an audience of Native Americans and say, "Yes, this country stole your land and prosecuted a ruthless war against you, but what would really help now is if you stopped your kids from drinking so much." The high rate of alcoholism among Native Americans would not be seen as relevant. And as I've said, it would not be wise for the president to go to Newtown and point to the absence of active fatherhood in the life of Adam Lanza. 

But for some reason all of these kinds of statements are appropriate in the black community. Not because of higher rates of anything, and it not even because the president is black. They're seen as appropriate because there a deep belief--even among black people--that morality lies at the seat of our troubles. This is why Bill Clinton, in 1993,  delivered this speech in Memphis, where he attempted to speak as a modern day Martin Luther King:

"I fought for freedom," he would say, "but not for the freedom of people to kill each other with reckless abandon, not for the freedom of children to impregnate each other with babies and then abandon them, nor for the freedom of adult fathers of children to walk away from the children they created and abandon them, as if they didn't amount to anything."

He would say, "This is not what I lived and died for. I fought to stop white people from being so filled with hate that they would wreak violence on black people. I did not fight for the right of black people to murder other black people on a daily basis. "

This is very similar to the kind of appeal Barack Obama makes when he addresses black audiences  today. The neighborhoods where black people shoot at each other are the work of racist social engineering. We know this. But we do not say it, because there is almost no political upside. Instead we hand-wave at racism and pretend that individual black morality might overcome many centuries of wrong:

Folks are complaining about the quality of our government, I understand there's something to be complaining about. I'm in Washington. I see what's going on. I see those powers and principales have snuck back in there, that they're writing the energy bills and the drug laws.  We understand that, but I'll tell you what. I also know that, if cousin Pookie would vote, get off the couch and register some folks and go to the polls, we might have a different kind of politics.

But Cousin Pookie did vote--at historic levels, no less. And Cousin Pookie's preferred candidate has taken that vote and continued about the business of busting all the other Pookies out there for things the candidate did in his youth. And those busts are happening at rates well beyond Pookie's other American neighbors. There is no reason to think this will change any time soon. 

That saddens me. 
I don't think I'll be breaking any news by pointing out that I'm a fan of the president. And I am not a fan simply because he is black and smart. We have a lot of that. I am of his uncommon imagination. I am thinking of that moment in his address on drone policy a few weeks ago when the president was heckled. Instead of shouting down the protester he acknowledged her point. And it's not so much that this acknowledgment reflected some deep insight, it was that it was the kind of generosity and wisdom that we are not used to seeing from those who wield existential power. And this actually extends to race. Whatever my critique of his 2008 race speech (and I have one), it's very hard to argue that--within the context of American history--the speech is not an incredible document. (Very few Americans even know what redlining is.) 
My disappointment with how Obama addresses black people originates in the fact that I believe he, quite literally, knows better and could do better. It is not enough to point out that crowds of black people cheer him on. Greatness demands that you not just make people cheer, that you not just grant them "Oh my people" catharsis, but that you make them think. This is about legacy. This is about asking whether "First Black president" will simply be an accidental honorific. 

I think back to Barack Obama's favorite president--Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln is my favorite too. What I remember about Lincoln is that in his last public speech he committed himself to suffrage for black men who'd fought for their freedom in the Civil War. This would have been (and eventually was) a major step in the long war toward true democracy. The next day Lincoln was shot for his willingness to make that step. He is my favorite for more than his ability to forge compromise. He is my favorite because he is, at the end of the day, a man who laid his life in a war against our greatest illness--white supremacy.

What does such a legacy call those of us who admire Lincoln to then do? Is it enough to make the kind of individual moral appeals we hear at family reunions and church services every year? Is it enough to simply speak words that make those who love us most cheer? Or all we ultimately called to something more?

       

Color-Blind Policy And Color-Conscious Morality

I wanted to circle back to a post I wrote some weeks ago looking at the ways in which the president addresses black America. (Here are two critiques of that piece from Andrew Sullivan and Jim Fallows.) One reason I've focused on the ways racism perpetuates itself in seemingly color-blind policy is to challenge the theory that a rising tide lifts all boats. I think it is important to raise such a challenge as we consider a president who generally advocates for for color-blind policies while arguing for a color-conscious morality.
To wit, here is the president in 2007 at Brown Chapel A.M.E in Selma:

But I'll tell you what -- even as I fight on behalf of more education funding, more equity, I have to also say that , if parents don't turn off the television set when the child comes home from school and make sure they sit down and do their homework and go talk to the teachers and find out how they're doing, and if we don't start instilling a sense in our young children that there is nothing to be ashamed about in educational achievement, I don't know who taught them that reading and writing and conjugating your verbs was something white.

Here is the president in 2008 in Chicago:

Yes, we need more money for our schools, and more outstanding teachers in the classroom, and more afterschool programs for our children. Yes, we need more jobs and more job training and more opportunity in our communities.

But we also need families to raise our children. We need fathers to realize that responsibility does not end at conception. We need them to realize that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child - it's the courage to raise one... 

It's up to us - as fathers and parents - to instill this ethic of excellence in our children. It's up to us to say to our daughters, don't ever let images on TV tell you what you are worth, because I expect you to dream without limit and reach for those goals. It's up to us to tell our sons, those songs on the radio may glorify violence, but in my house we give glory to achievement, self respect, and hard work. It's up to us to set these high expectations.

Here is the president again in 2008:

We cannot use injustice as an excuse. We can't use poverty as an excuse. There are things under our control that we've got to attend to.

In 2008 at the NAACP convention:

That's why if we're serious about reclaiming that dream, we have to do more in our own lives, our own families, and our own communities. That starts with providing the guidance our children need, turning off the TV, and putting away the video games; attending those parent-teacher conferences, helping our children with their homework, and setting a good example. 

In 2009 at the NAACP convention:

To parents -- to parents, we can't tell our kids to do well in school and then fail to support them when they get home.  (Applause.)  You can't just contract out parenting.  For our kids to excel, we have to accept our responsibility to help them learn.  That means putting away the Xbox -- (applause) -- putting our kids to bed at a reasonable hour.  (Applause.)

In 2009:

And I've said it before and I know I may sound like a broken record, but I'm going to say it again:  Government alone cannot get our children to the Promised Land.  (Applause.)  Government can't put away the PlayStation. .. These are things only a mother can do and a father can do.  These are things that a parent can do.  (Applause.)

And so it goes.

I think Barack Obama's defense of his rhetoric would be something like the following: "I am very much aware of the country's long history of racist public policy, a history whose effects continue today. But doing more about those effects requires a political will than cannot be mustered in a country populated by people who have long endorsed those policies. Thinking in a globally competitive context, it is critically important that African-American not just close the achievement gap but excel. We are now in a situation where we have only ourselves to depend on."

This is the theory of "Twice As Good," and it has great currency in the African-American community. You can read my thoughts on "Twice As Good" in this essayish profile of Bill Cosby. Toward the end of my reporting, Cosby said something that sticks with me even today:

If you looked at me and said, 'Why is he doing this? Why right now?,' you could probably say, 'He's having a resurgence of his childhood.' What do I need if I am a child today? I need people to guide me. I need the possibility of change. I need people to stop saying I can't pull myself up by my own bootstraps. They say that's a myth. But these other people have their mythical stories--why can't we have our own?"

I read that and it still stirs me today, in much the same way that Obama's speech stirred Morehouse. The most motivating feature of "Twice As Good" is that it promises agency-- a world where we need not plead and cajole, where we do not have to get our head cracked in order to get white people to do the right thing. When Barack Obama makes a moral appeal, he is not performing a Sista Souljah tactic. He is speaking sincere beliefs that run deep in his community. I happen to think those beliefs elide some difficult truths about the nature of power. 

In the case of the president, I think they elide the fact that there are actual policy steps he could be taking and isn't. I think yesterday's post on marijuana busts really brings this home. You will not find me among those arguing for deadbeat dads. But putting away the X-Box will not change those incredible arrest numbers. Policy will. As it stands, the president is on the wrong side of that policy:

Recently, there have been increasing efforts to legalize marijuana. The Obama administration has consistently reiterated its firm opposition to any form of drug legalization. Together with Federal partners and state and local officials, the Office of National Drug Control Policy is working to reduce the use of marijuana and other illicit drugs through development of strategies that fully integrate the principles of prevention, treatment, recovery, and effective supply reduction efforts. Proposals such as legalization that would promote marijuana use are inconsistent with this public health and safety approach

Beyond that, I would argue that the current black predicament did not arise because black people lacked sufficient moral will. I would argue that we recognize this in other communities and their own predicaments. It would not be productive for the president to go before a white working-class Appalachian audience and say, "We know that economic unfairness exists, and has long existed, but government programs won't keep your kids off meth and painkillers." The fact that meth and painkiller addiction is higher in those communities, that one in ten kids born an Appalachia was born addicted to drugs, would not be seen as relevant to, say, a jobs program.
Nor would it be productive or wise for the president to go before a primarily Hispanic audience and say "We know that the DREAM Act is the right thing to do, but what you really need to do is keep your babies from having more babies." The fact that the Hispanic community has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the country would not be seen as relevant to, say, immigration reform.

And it would not be productive or wise for the president to go before an audience of Native Americans and say, "Yes, this country stole your land and prosecuted a ruthless war against you, but what would really help now is if you stopped your kids from drinking so much." The high rate of alcoholism among Native Americans would not be seen as relevant. And as I've said, it would not be wise for the president to go to Newtown and point to the absence of active fatherhood in the life of Adam Lanza. 

But for some reason all of these kinds of statements are appropriate in the black community. Not because of higher rates of anything, and it not even because the president is black. They're seen as appropriate because there a deep belief--even among black people--that morality lies at the seat of our troubles. This is why Bill Clinton, in 1993,  delivered this speech in Memphis, where he attempted to speak as a modern day Martin Luther King:

"I fought for freedom," he would say, "but not for the freedom of people to kill each other with reckless abandon, not for the freedom of children to impregnate each other with babies and then abandon them, nor for the freedom of adult fathers of children to walk away from the children they created and abandon them, as if they didn't amount to anything."

He would say, "This is not what I lived and died for. I fought to stop white people from being so filled with hate that they would wreak violence on black people. I did not fight for the right of black people to murder other black people on a daily basis. "

This is very similar to the kind of appeal Barack Obama makes when he addresses black audiences  today. The neighborhoods where black people shoot at each other are the work of racist social engineering. We know this. But we do not say it, because there is almost no political upside. Instead we hand-wave at racism and pretend that individual black morality might overcome many centuries of wrong:

Folks are complaining about the quality of our government, I understand there's something to be complaining about. I'm in Washington. I see what's going on. I see those powers and principales have snuck back in there, that they're writing the energy bills and the drug laws.  We understand that, but I'll tell you what. I also know that, if cousin Pookie would vote, get off the couch and register some folks and go to the polls, we might have a different kind of politics.

But Cousin Pookie did vote--at historic levels, no less. And Cousin Pookie's preferred candidate has taken that vote and continued about the business of busting all the other Pookies out there for things the candidate did in his youth. And those busts are happening at rates well beyond Pookie's other American neighbors. There is no reason to think this will change any time soon. 

That saddens me. 
I don't think I'll be breaking any news by pointing out that I'm a fan of the president. And I am not a fan simply because he is black and smart. We have a lot of that. I am of his uncommon imagination. I am thinking of that moment in his address on drone policy a few weeks ago when the president was heckled. Instead of shouting down the protester he acknowledged her point. And it's not so much that this acknowledgment reflected some deep insight, it was that it was the kind of generosity and wisdom that we are not used to seeing from those who wield existential power. And this actually extends to race. Whatever my critique of his 2008 race speech (and I have one), it's very hard to argue that--within the context of American history--the speech is not an incredible document. (Very few Americans even know what redlining is.) 
My disappointment with how Obama addresses black people originates in the fact that I believe he, quite literally, knows better and could do better. It is not enough to point out that crowds of black people cheer him on. Greatness demands that you not just make people cheer, that you not just grant them "Oh my people" catharsis, but that you make them think. This is about legacy. This is about asking whether "First Black president" will simply be an accidental honorific. 

I think back to Barack Obama's favorite president--Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln is my favorite too. What I remember about Lincoln is that in his last public speech he committed himself to suffrage for black men who'd fought for their freedom in the Civil War. This would have been (and eventually was) a major step in the long war toward true democracy. The next day Lincoln was shot for his willingness to make that step. He is my favorite for more than his ability to forge compromise. He is my favorite because he is, at the end of the day, a man who laid his life in a war against our greatest illness--white supremacy.

What does such a legacy call those of us who admire Lincoln to then do? Is it enough to make the kind of individual moral appeals we hear at family reunions and church services every year? Is it enough to simply speak words that make those who love us most cheer? Or all we ultimately called to something more?

       

A Drug War in the Time of Color-Blind Policy

I don't know that it will come as any surprise to anyone reading here that black people are arrested for marijuana possession a lot more often than white people, despite there being virtually no gap in marijuana usage. Still, this data from a new ACLU report is worth considering:

Marijuana use is roughly equal among Blacks and whites. In 2010, 14% of Blacks and 12% of whites reported using marijuana in the past year; in 2001, the figure was 10% of whites and 9% of Blacks. In every year from 2001 to 2010, more whites than Blacks between the ages of 18 and 25 reported using marijuana in the previous year. In 2010, 34% of whites and 27% of Blacks reported having last used marijuana more than one year ago -- a constant trend over the past decade. In the same year, 59% of Blacks and 54% of whites reported having never used marijuana. Each year over the past decade more Blacks than whites reported that they had never used marijuana.

And now some data on actual arrest rates:

In 2010, nationwide the white arrest rate was 192 per 100,000 whites, and  the black arrest rate was 716 per 100,000 blacks. Racial disparities in marijuana possession arrests are widespread and  exist in every region in the country. In the Northeast and Midwest, Blacks  are over four times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession  than whites. In the South, Blacks are over three times more likely, and in  the West, they are twice more likely. In over one-third of the states, Blacks  are more than four times likelier to be arrested for marijuana possession than whites. 
Racial disparities in marijuana possession arrests exist regardless of county household income levels, and are greater in middle income and more affluent counties. In the counties with the 15 highest median household incomes (between $85K-$115K), Blacks are two to eight times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than whites. In the 15 counties in the middle of the household income range (between $45K-$46K), Blacks are over three times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than whites. In the poorest 15 counties (median household incomes between $22K-$30K), Blacks are generally 1.5 to five times more likely to be arrested ...

The overall black population has almost nothing to do with this disparity:

For example, in Lycoming and Lawrence, PA, and in Kenton County, KY, Blacks make up less than 5% of the population, but are between 10 and 11 times more likely than whites to be arrested. In Hennepin County, MN (includes Minneapolis), and Champaign and Jackson Counties, IL, Blacks are 12%, 13%, and 15% of the population, respectively, but are 9 times more likely to be arrested than whites. 
In Brooklyn, NY, and St. Louis City, MO, Blacks comprise 37% and 50% of the residents, respectively, and are 12 and 18 times more likely to be arrested than whites. In Chambers, AL, and St. Landry, LA, Blacks account for more than twice as many marijuana arrests (90% and 89%, respectively) than they do of the overall population (39% and 42%, respectively). In Morgan and Pike Counties, AL, Blacks make up just over 12% and 37% of the population, respectively, but account for 100% of the marijuana possession arrests.

The disparity is not getting better, it's getting worse.  Since 1990 arrests for marijuana possession. The increase has not been color-blind:

As the overall number of marijuana arrests has increased over the past decade, the white arrest rate has remained constant at around 192 per 100,000, whereas the Black arrest rate has risen from 537 per 100,000 in 2001 (and 521 per 100,000 in 2002) to 716 per 100,000 in 2010. Hence, it appears that the increase in marijuana arrest rates overall is largely a result of the increase in the arrest rates of Blacks.

The years between 2000 and 2010 do not simply constitute a war on marijuana, but a war on black people who use marijuana. 
A rising wave smashes Negroes first.        

A Drug War In The Time Of Color-Blind Policy

I don't know that it will come as any surprise to anyone reading here that black people are arrested for marijuana possession a lot more than white people, despite their being virtually no gap in marijuana usage. Still this data from a new ACLU report is worth considering:

Marijuana use is roughly equal among Blacks and whites. In 2010, 14% of Blacks and 12% of whites reported using marijuana in the past year; in 2001, the figure was 10% of whites and 9% of Blacks. In every year from 2001 to 2010, more whites than Blacks between the ages of 18 and 25 reported using marijuana in the previous year. In 2010, 34% of whites and 27% of Blacks reported having last used marijuana more than one year ago -- a constant trend over the past decade. In the same year, 59% of Blacks and 54% of whites reported having never used marijuana. Each year over the past decade more Blacks than whites reported that they had never used marijuana.

And now some data on actual arrest rates:

In 2010, nationwide the white arrest rate was 192 per 100,000 whites, and  the black arrest rate was 716 per 100,000 blacks. Racial disparities in marijuana possession arrests are widespread and  exist in every region in the country. In the Northeast and Midwest, Blacks  are over four times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession  than whites. In the South, Blacks are over three times more likely, and in  the West, they are twice more likely. In over one-third of the states, Blacks  are more than four times likelier to be arrested for marijuana possession  than whites. 
Racial disparities in marijuana possession arrests exist regardless of county household income levels, and are greater in middle income and more affluent counties. In the counties with the 15 highest median household incomes (between $85K-$115K), Blacks are two to eight times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than whites. In the 15 counties in the middle of the household income range (between $45K-$46K), Blacks are over three times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than whites. In the poorest 15 counties (median household incomes between $22K-$30K), Blacks are generally 1.5 to five times more likely to be arrested...

The overall black population has almost nothing to do with this disparity:

For example, in Lycoming and Lawrence, PA, and in Kenton County, KY, Blacks make up less than 5% of the population, but are between 10 and 11 times more likely than whites to be arrested. In Hennepin County, MN (includes Minneapolis), and Champaign and Jackson Counties, IL, Blacks are 12%, 13%, and 15% of the population, respectively, but are 9 times more likely to be arrested than whites. 
In Brooklyn, NY, and St. Louis City, MO, Blacks comprise 37% and 50% of the residents, respectively, and are 12 and 18 times more likely to be arrested than whites. In Chambers, AL, and St. Landry, LA, Blacks account for more than twice as many marijuana arrests (90% and 89%, respectively) than they do of the overall population (39% and 42%, respectively). In Morgan and Pike Counties, AL, Blacks make up just over 12% and 37% of the population, respectively, but account for 100% of the marijuana possession arrests.

The disparity is not getting better, it's getting worse.  Since 1990 arrests for marijuana possession. The increase has not been color-blind:

As the overall number of marijuana arrests has increased over the past decade, the white arrest rate has remained constant at around 192 per 100,000, whereas the Black arrest rate has risen from 537 per 100,000 in 2001 (and 521 per 100,000 in 2002) to 716 per 100,000 in 2010. Hence, it appears that the increase in marijuana arrest rates overall is largely a result of the increase in the arrest rates of Blacks.

The years between 2000 and 2010 do not simply constitute a war on marijuana, but a war on black people who use marijuana. 
A rising wave smashes black boats first.



       

The Mad Men Treadmill

AMC

It's become pretty clear to me that Mad Men's sixth season is its worst season. It cannot be saved by the notion that Matt Weiner is "building up to something." "Building up to something" only works when you actually care about the characters. Despite some great acting, I don't really care what happens to Don Draper. I don't much care whether he's pathetic. I don't much care whether he's a badass. I know who he is, and who he is will never change. So his story is pretty much over. There are other, more interesting, characters. But because Don is the show's centerpiece, they'll never get the time that he gets.

It's sad to see the show just drifting listlessly from shocking event to shocking event.

I think this has become more of a problem. One reason the (temporary) reunion between Betty and Don worked so well was because Betty's character was so well explored in the first three seasons. The series developed her (even if they've since abandoned that project) and so Betty and Don are two fully fleshed-out characters in conversation. You can't really say that about any other woman in Don's life. Sylvia is barely an actual person compared to Betty. (I also think that January Jones and Jon Hamm, for whatever reason, have a kind of chemistry on set that hasn't been since duplicated.)

It's sort of sad to see the show just drifting listlessly from shocking event to shocking event. It points to a lack of actual things to say about actual human beings. Ostensibly, Mad Men is a show about "the '60s." But stories "about" particular times almost never work. Stories about people work. At any rate, it's pretty clear that Season Six has almost nothing to say about the times beyond, "This guy called this guy a fascist, and some hippies were doing drugs, and that guy called that guy a racist." As uninteresting as this season has been, it is at its least interesting when it is trying to "say" something—about the year, about the city, whatever.

Increasingly the magical '60s and a crumbling New York have become a crutch for Mad Men. I hope this changes in the seventh season. But I see no reason why it would. I suspect this series ended a while ago. (I'd argue either the second or fifth season.) It feels like we're on a tour-bus, and one of the tourists is driving.

       

So I'm Halfway Through Slaughterhouse-Five ...

...And I'm wandering around the house muttering "So it goes..." I know. Very unoriginal. Still I can't decide whether "So it goes" beats "Every night, priest five against one!" for funniest lines I've read. 
I'm certainly enjoying Slaughterhouse-Five more than I enjoyed A Farewell To Arms. Still "Five against one!" is hilarious.         

So I'm Halfway Through Slaughterhouse-Five...

...And I'm wandering around the house muttering "So it goes..." I know. Very unoriginal. Still I can't decide whether "So it goes" beats "Every night, priest five against one!" for funniest lines I've read. 
I'm certainly enjoying Slaughterhouse-Five more than I enjoyed A Farewell To Arms. Still "Five against one!" is hilarious.         

The Many Secrets of a 'Bloated National Security State'

Steve Coll argues (convincingly) that the Justice Departments disclosed surveillance of the press is only the tip of the iceberg, and originates somewhere deeper than presidential disposition:

It seems likely that Holder or his deputies have authorized other press subpoenas and surveillance regimes that have not yet been disclosed. The Justice Department has acted belligerently even in cases where no grave harm to the public interest has been demonstrated, or where, as in the A.P. case, the leaks under suspicion have served to publicize the Administration's successes. Why would the President preside over such illiberal decisions? His longest-serving advisers are disciplined and insular to a fault; press leaks offend their aesthetic of power. And it would hardly be surprising if Obama viscerally disdained the media's self-important excesses. Yet the Administration's record cannot be chalked up to the President's temperament or to Holder's poor judgment alone. 
It is no coincidence that the A.P. and the Fox cases arose from national-security reporting. Obama inherited a bloated national-security state. It contains far too many official secrets and far too many secret-keepers -- more than a million people now hold top-secret clearances. Under a thirty-year-old executive order issued by the White House, the intelligence agencies must inform the Justice Department whenever they believe that classified information has been disclosed illegally to the press. These referrals operate on a kind of automatic pilot, and the system is unbalanced. Prosecutors in Justice's national-security division initially decide on whether to make a criminal case or to defer to the First Amendment. The record shows that in recent years the division has been bent on action. 
Last month, at the National Defense University, Obama pledged to end America's formal war on terrorist groups. His speech was one of the most impressive of his second term. He announced renewed plans to close Guantánamo, and he promised to tighten the rules governing classified drone strikes. He made no mention, though, of the many examples of investigative reporting -- about the torture and abuse of prisoners, about official lies issued by the Bush Administration on the road to war in Iraq, about targeting errors in drone attacks -- that have helped to discredit the policies he now seeks to wind down.

I think that last point is really key. Many of the debates we are having, and have had, would be impossible without leaks. (Chris Hayes details them a few of them above.) It's perhaps a self-serving cliché to point out the need for an oppositional press in an actual democracy. But it's also a fact. Not to take away from Coll's point, but I think this (typically) excellent Jane Mayer piece on how the president handles whistle-blowers is worth a re-read.