After the
disturbing and disheartening events that have taken place in Ferguson following
Michael Brown’s death over the past few weeks, many insightful and important pieces have been written about
racism in the United States today, particularly as it pertains to law enforcement and the criminal justice system. I want to use this post to approach
the issue from a slightly different angle, which hopefully will give those of
us with privilege (in this case, white people) an idea of how to stand in
solidarity with the angry and grieving people of Ferguson.
.
One of the
tactics I’ve observed those in positions of power using to continue to get
their way at the expense of the relatively powerless and marginalized is the
pretense of ‘objectivity’ and ‘fairness’. Because the narratives and
interests of the powerful have been favored in the construction of our social,
political and economic systems, the illusion of ‘fairness’ can in fact cover
over a deeply unfair outcome. We see an example of this in the Michael Brown
case. Many (white) people have been saying, ‘we don’t know this is about race!
Let’s wait until all of the facts come out and the investigation is completed!’
But one of the Ferguson protestors’ demands is for an independent third-party
investigation of the shooting and its aftermath, given serious
doubts about the ability of the Ferguson police and prosecutor Bob McCulloch
to conduct a ‘fair’ and ‘objective’ investigation. Letting ‘the process work’
would by default favor the powerful (the police)—which is why people interested
in justice are trying to disrupt the process.
.
During the
year I spent in the Philippines after graduating from college, I encountered a
radical Catholic doctrine known as ‘liberation theology’. I call it ‘radical’
because it was disavowed by more than one former pope, although the current
pope appears to be more open to its teachings. Briefly, liberation theology
posits that God has a ‘preferential option’ for the poor and the marginalized. Liberation
theology has been transformational for me in understanding how people with
racial, economic, and/or educational privilege like myself can contribute to a
more just world (and liberation theology has been applied to the issue of race
in the United States; see the writings of James Cone). Briefly, I’ve become
firmly convinced that I cannot remain ‘neutral’ or ‘objective’ in a context of
oppression, violence, and domination, either as a scientist, an academic, or a
human being. To do so is, de facto, to side with the oppressors. While the circumstances of poor Filipinos being harrassed by a mining company and African-Americans being harrassed by the police have major differences, the nature of power structures that seek self-perpetuation at the expense of those with less power is remarkably similar all over the world. I am
committed to using my Ph.D., my expertise, my ability to travel, my money, the
fact that people will ‘believe me’, or whatever other privileges I have, to
stand on the side of the poor and marginalized, both in this country and
abroad.
Simple to
say—of course, very challenging to do. One has to avoid, on the one hand,
adopting a ‘white savior’ mentality by speaking for instead of with
marginalized people, and on the other, subscribing to a sort of ‘the noble,
suffering poor’ mindset in which poor or marginalized people are saints and
everything they say or do is correct. The poor and disenfranchised aren’t
always right. But because they have been ignored throughout history and their
narratives have been discounted in favor of the narratives of the powerful, I
would argue that one should disproportionately listen to them. When I was in
the Philippines, the tales of human rights and environmental abuses on the part
of the U.S. and Philippine governments and multi-national corporations from my
friends working on the ground at first seemed fantastical to my naïve and
sheltered ears. But the more I investigated these claims (and I dedicated a
Ph.D. to doing so), the more I saw that they were correct. If I had dismissed
their complaints out of hand in favor of the ‘we’re helping Filipinos!’
narrative that the powerful interests promote, I would never have seen the
‘truth’ or the ‘facts’. Far from being objective, I would have been firmly
biased in favor of the powerful.
And, I would
be remiss if I didn’t point out that standing on the side of the poor and
marginalized is likely to come with a price. The powerful don’t like it very
much. I’ve been yelled at; accused of wanting the poor to starve for
questioning some of the outcomes of the Green Revolution; and threatened with
personal and professional failure. Of course, none of that comes remotely close
to the suffering and sacrifice of those on the front lines of the struggle
against injustice—many in the Philippines and in the United States have been
tortured, lost their lives, their reputations, and their careers in the service
of this struggle. But I have certainly felt pressure to stop asking certain
questions or taking certain positions. To be honest, that’s one of the reasons
I chose an academic career—academia, perhaps more so than any other sector, is
fiercely protective of controversial research and independent viewpoints.
In conclusion,
I stand with the citizens of Ferguson. I stand with Michael Brown. I stand with
all African-Americans who have been abused, harassed, and killed by the police
who are supposed to protect them. I’m not neutral, and I refuse to apologize
for that.
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