by Cornel West
This Arnoldian sentiment is expressed in an American idiom by Ralph Waldo Emerson, the godfather of our deep democratic tradition, in his essay “Plato; or the Philosopher,” a tribute to the Socrates of Plato’s texts:
The rare coincidence, in one ugly body, of the droll and the martyr, the keen street and market debater with the sweetest saint known to any history at that time, had forcibly struck the mind of Plato, so capacious of these contrasts; and the figure of Socrates, by a necessity, placed itself in the foreground of the scene, as the fittest dispenser of the intellectual treasures he had to communicate. It was a rare fortune, that this Aesop of the mob, and this robed scholar, should meet, to make each other immortal in their mutual faculty.
For Emerson, every democratic citizen must aspire to the Socratic love of wisdom, to a vigilant questioning that transforms the unruly mob into mature seekers of the tougher, deeper truths that sustain democratic individuals, democratic communities, and democratic societies.
Yet our Socratic questioning must go beyond Socrates. We must out-Socratize Socrates by revealing the limits of the great Socratic tradition. My own philosophy of democracy that emerges from the nightside of American democracy is rooted in the guttural cries and silent tears of oppressed people. And it has always bothered me that Socrates never cries—he never sheds a tear. His profound yet insufficient rationalism refuses to connect noble self-mastery to a heartfelt solidarity with the agony and anguish of oppressed peoples. Why this glaring defect in Socratic love of wisdom? Does not the rich Socratic legacy of Athens need the deep prophetic legacy of Jerusalem? Must not the rigorous questioning and quest for wisdom of the Socratic be infused with the passionate fervor and quest for justice of the prophetic?
The Jewish invention of the prophetic begins with the cries for help and tears of sorrow of an oppressed people. This profound grief and particular grievances are directed against imperial Egypt. God hears their cries and is moved by their tears because God is first and foremost a lover of justice (Psalms 99:4 and 37:28; Isaiah 61:8). The Judaic God declares, “I will surely hear their cry…. For I am compassionate” (Exodus 22:23, 27). Divine compassion undergirds the divine love of justice just as human compassion undergirds the prophetic love of justice. The premier prophetic language is the language of cries and tears because human hurt and misery give rise to visions of justice and deeds of compassion. For the prophetic tradition, the cries and tears of an oppressed people signify an alternative to oppression and symbolize an allegiance to a God who requires human deeds that address these cries and tears.
The Christian movement that emerged out of prophetic Judaism made the language of cries and tears a new way of life and struggle in the world. My philosophy of democracy is deeply shaped by that particular Jew named Jesus who put the love of God and neighbor at the core of his vision of justice and his deeds of compassion. His vision of a just future consoles those who cry and his deeds of compassion comfort those who shed tears. His loving gift of ministry, grace, and death under the rule of nihilistic imperial elites enacts divine compassion and justice in human flesh. The ultimate Christian paradox of God crucified in history under the Roman empire is that the love and justice that appear so weak may be strong, that seem so foolish may be wise, and that strike imperial elites as easily disposable may be inescapably indispensable. The prophetic tradition is fueled by a righteous indignation at injustice—a moral urgency to address the cries and tears of oppressed peoples.
Despite the Constantinian captivity of much of the Christian movement here and abroad, the prophetic tradition has a deep legacy of providing extraordinary strength of commitment and vision that helps us to care in a palpable way about the injustices we see around us. In our own time this was the fire that drove Martin Luther King Jr., Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Dorothy Day, and millions of other Americans to deepen our democratic project. This prophetic tradition is an infectious and invigorating way of life and struggle. It generates the courage to care and act in light of a universal moral vision that indicts the pervasive corruption, greed, and bigotry in our souls and society. It awakens us from the fashionable ways of being indifferent to other people’s suffering or from subtle ways of remaining numb to the social misery in our midst. Prophetic love of justice unleashes ethical energy and political engagement that explodes all forms of our egocentric predicaments or tribalistic mind-sets. Its telling signs are ethical witness (including maybe martyrdom for some), moral consistency, and political activism—all crucial elements of our democratic armor for the fight against corrupt elite power.
Yet in our postmodern world of pervasive consumerism and hedonism, narcissism and cynicism, skepticism and nihilism, the Socratic love of wisdom and prophetic love of justice may appear hopeless. Who has not felt overwhelmed by dread and despair when confronting the atrocities and barbarities of our world? And surely a cheap optimism or trite sentimentalism will not sustain us. We need a bloodstained Socratic love and tear-soaked prophetic love fueled by a hard-won tragicomic hope. Our democratic fight against corrupt elite power needs the vital strength provided by the black American invention of the blues. The blues is the most profound interpretation of tragicomic hope in America. The blues encourages us to confront the harsh realities of our personal and political lives unflinchingly without innocent sentimentalism or coldhearted cynicism. The blues forges a mature hope that fortifies us on the slippery tightrope of Socratic questioning and prophetic witness in imperial America.
This black American interpretation of tragicomic hope is rooted in a love of freedom. It proceeds from a free inquisitive spirit that highlights imperial America’s weak will to racial justice. It is a sad yet sweet indictment of abusive power and blind greed run amok. It is a melancholic yet melioristic stance toward America’s denial of its terrors and horrors heaped on others. It yields a courage to hope for betterment against the odds without a sense of revenge or resentment. It revels in a dark joy of freely thinking, acting, and loving under severe constraints of unfreedom.
I have always marveled at how such an unfree people as blacks in America created the freest forms in America, such as blues and jazz. I have often pondered how we victims of American democracy invented such odes to democratic individuality and community as in the blues and jazz. And I now wonder whether American democracy can survive without learning from the often-untapped democratic energies and lessons of black Americans. How does one affirm a life of mature autonomy while recognizing that evil is inseparable from freedom? How does one remain open and ready for meaningful solidarity with the very people who hate you? Frederick Douglass and Bessie Smith, Ida B. Wells-Barnett and Duke Ellington, Sarah Vaughan and Martin Luther King Jr., Ella Baker and Louis Armstrong all are wise voices in a deep democratic tradition in America that may provide some clue to these crucial questions in our time. They all knew that even if the tears of the world are a constant quantity and that the air is full of our cries, we can and should still embark on a democratic quest for wisdom, justice, and freedom.
This kind of tragicomic hope is dangerous—and potentially subversive—because it can never be extinguished. Like laughter, dance, and music, it is a form of elemental freedom that cannot be eliminated or snuffed out by any elite power. Instead, it is inexorably resilient and inescapably seductive—even contagious. It is wedded to a long and rich tradition of humanist pursuits of wisdom, justice, and freedom from Amos through Socrates to Ellison. The high modern moments in this tradition—Shakespeare, Beethoven, Chekhov, Coltrane—enact and embody a creative weaving of the Socratic, prophetic, and tragicomic elements into profound interpretations of what it means to be human. These three elements constitute the most sturdy democratic armor available to us in our fight against corrupt elite power. They represent the best of what has been bequeathed to us and what we look like when we are at our best—as deep democrats and as human beings.
This democratic armor allows us to absorb any imperial and xenophobic blows yet still persist. It permits us to
face any antidemocratic foe and still persevere. It encourages us to fight any form of dogma or nihilism and still endure. It only requires that we be true to ourselves by choosing to be certain kinds of human beings and democratic citizens indebted to a deep democratic tradition and committed to keeping it vital and vibrant. This democratic vocation wedded to an unstoppable predilection for possibility may not guarantee victory, but it does enhance the probability of hard-won progress. And if we lose our precious democratic experiment, let it be said that we went down swinging like Ella Fitzgerald and Muhammad Ali—with style, grace, and a smile that signifies that the seeds of democracy matters will flower and flourish somewhere and somehow and remember our gallant efforts.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was made possible—as are all of my writings—by my loving family: my inimitable parents, the late Clifton L. West and Irene Bias West (the precious namesake of the recently dedicated Irene B. West Elementary School!); my steadfast brother, Clifton L. West (the deepest person I know); my supportive sisters, Cynthia McDaniel and Cheryl West; my wonderful son, Clifton Louis West; and my lovely daughter, Dilan Zeytun West. I benefited greatly from the professional support of Mary Ann Rodriguez and the personal love of Leslie Oser Kotkin. The hard work of Ben Polk and the editorial genius of Emily Loose made this work much of what it is. I also want to thank my blessed literary agent, Gloria Loomis, and the visionary publisher Ann Godoff. I take full responsibility for its shortcomings.
PERMISSIONS
Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to reprint excerpts from the following copyrighted works:
Letter from Leo Baeck and Albert Einstein to The New York Times, April 18, 1948. By permission of the Leo Baeck Institute.
“True Dat (Interlude)” lyrics by Ruben L. Bailey. Used by permission of Ruben L. Bailey.
The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin. © 1962, 1963 by James Baldwin. Copyright renewed. Published by Vintage Books. Used by permission of the James Baldwin Estate.
“Lost Ones” by Frederick Hibbert and Lauryn Hill. Copyright 1998 Sony/ATV Tunes LLC Obverse Creation Music Inc. By permission of Sony/ATV Music Publishing. Copyright © 1998 by Sony/ATV Tunes, LLC and Universal—Songs of Polygram Int. Inc. (ASCAP and BMI). Used by permission of Universal Music Publishing. International copyright secured. All rights reserved.
“Hater Players” by Shawn Jones, Talib Greene (Talib Kweli), and Dante Smith. Copyright 1998 JPeriod Music (ASCAP). Administered by The Royalty Network. © 1998 by Songs of Windswept Pacific o/b/o Itself Pen Skills Music. All rights administered by Windswept. All rights reserved. Used by permission of Warner Bros. Publications U.S. Inc., Miami, Florida. © 1998 EMI Blackwood Music Inc., Empire International, Medina Sound Music, J. Period Records, Songs of Windswept Pacific and Pen Skills Music. All rights for Empire International and Medina Sound Music controlled and administered by EMI Blackwood Music Inc. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Used by permission.
INDEX
The page numbers in this index refer to the printed version of this book. To find the corresponding locations in the text of this digital version, please use the “search” function on your e-reader. Note that not all terms may be searchable.
Abandoned Baobab, The (M’Baye), 131
abolitionist movement, 47, 48, 49, 91, 152, 157
Adams, Charles, 168
Aeschines, 209
affirmative action, 165, 191, 195
Afghanistan, 110–11, 128–29
Africa, 9, 12, 55, 59, 117, 151, 191, 194
Afrikaa Bambaataa, 180
aggressive militarism, 5–6, 7–8, 9, 13, 18, 21, 55, 101, 103, 105, 146, 148, 178
AIDS, 12, 151, 194
Ali, Muhammad, 218
Allen, Derek “D.O.A.,” 185–86
Al Qaeda, 61
Ambiguous Adventure (Kane), 131–32
American Blues (Williams), 92
American Evasion of Philosophy, The: A Genealogy of Pragmatism (West), 188
American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), 122
“American Scholar, The” (Emerson), 70–71, 76
Americans for Peace Now, 121
Amit, Meir, 117
Amos, Book of, 18, 113, 114, 217
An-Na’im, Abdullahi Ahmed, 140
Antidosis (Isocrates), 207–8
anti-Semitism, 10, 11, 40, 110, 123, 124, 128, 139, 169, 170–71, 197, 199
Apology (Plato), 16, 201, 208, 209
Appeal (Walker), 156
Appeal in Favor of That Class of Americans Called Africans, An (Child), 48
Appeal to the Colored Citizens of the World (Walker), 47–48
Arafat, Yasser, 115–16, 142
Aristophanes, 210
Aristotle, 42
Arkoun, Mohamed, 133
Armstrong, Louis, 91–92, 217
Arnold, Matthew, 212
Arts Empowerment Collective, 185
Ashcroft, John, 169
Athenian democracy, 15, 16–17, 42, 203–14
Archon of, 205
creation of, 204–6
decline of, 211
demes of, 206
demos of, 68, 206, 207, 208, 210, 211, 212
market elites of, 207–8
mimes of, 210
oligarchic corruption in, 68, 207–10
paideia in, 39, 41, 91
parrhesia in, 16, 39, 209, 210, 211
Sophists and, 16, 17, 30, 207–8
authoritarianism, 6–8, 10, 12, 13, 18, 21, 49, 103, 146, 148, 160, 161, 178, 210
Baeck, Leo, 126
Bailey, Ruben, 179–80
Baker, Ella, 92, 217
Baldwin, James, 1, 22, 67, 68, 78–86, 96, 97, 98, 107 Banks, Russell, 102
Batnitzky, Leora, 124–25
Beloved (Morrison), 37–38, 93–95
Berrigan, Philip and Daniel, 154
Biggie Smalls, 181
blacks:
American terrorism against, 20–21, 51, 156
as Civil War soldiers, 49
in Continental army, 44
Fourteenth Amendment and, 51
freedom struggle of, 16, 22, 33–35, 57, 158, 174; see also civil rights movement
at Harvard, 192
inner-city, 65, 66
middle-class, 65
nihilism of, 26
political leaders of, 65–66
as prophetic Christians, 155–59, 164
relationship of Jews and, 197–99
in rural communities, 52
as voters, 2, 33
see also racism; slavery; tragicomic hope
Black Star, 181
Black Visions: The Roots of Contemporary African-American Political Ideologies (Dawson), 34–35
Blake, Charles E., 168
Bloom, Harold, 100
blues, 16, 19–21, 22, 62, 79, 85, 87, 91–93, 99, 100, 216
Bob Jones University, 164
Booth, John Wilkes, 50
Bourne, Randolph S., 173
Bradley, Bill, 193
Breira, 120–21, 122
British empire, 8, 10, 14, 42, 54, 109, 149, 152
Brothers Karamazov, The (Dostoyevsky), 31–32
Brother to Dragons (Warren), 87
Brown, John, 67, 73
Burnett, Charles, 102
Burns, Anthony, 91
Bush, George W., 2, 26, 31, 32, 61, 65, 166–67, 169
Bush administration, 6, 9, 10, 12–13, 21–22, 30, 31, 66, 101, 105, 110–11, 204
tax cuts of, 29, 61, 78, 103
Carmichael, Stokely, 79
Carr, Leroy, 20
Catholic Worker Movement, 154
Cervantes, Miguel de, 19
Chavis, Benjamin, 184
Chekhov, Anton, 19, 102, 217
Cherokee, 73
Chief Joseph of the Nez Percé (Warren), 87
Child, Lydia Maria, 47, 48
Chomsky, Noam, 102
Chraibi, Driss, 131
Christianity, 16, 17, 19, 74–75, 12
8, 132–33, 134, 141, 145–72
activists in, 153–58
basic teachings of, 146, 148, 149, 172
black prophetic, 155–59, 164
commodification of, 167–68
Constantinian vs. prophetic, 147–72, 215
fundamentalist, 146, 152–53, 164, 165–67, 171
political action groups of, 166–68
Puritan, 149
right-wing evangelical, 2, 124, 165, 168
in Roman empire, 147–48, 150, 151, 159, 169–72, 214–15
secular liberalism vs., 159–61, 162, 163
slavery and, 157
Christianity and the Social Crisis (Rauschenbusch), 153
Chuck D, 85, 173–74, 180
Churchill, Winston, 55
Cicero, 73
civil rights movement, 152, 157, 164
white supporters of, 19, 83–84, 119, 127
Civil War, 45, 48, 49–50, 51, 157–58
Cleisthenes, 206
Clinton, Bill, 9, 35, 36, 64
Clinton, Hillary Rodham, 35–36, 61, 122
Coffin, William Sloan, 154–55
cold war, 9, 56, 57, 109, 117, 118, 129
Coltrane, John, 67, 85, 91–92, 217
Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, 122, 123 Constantine, emperor of Rome, 147, 148, 169
Coolidge, Calvin, 55
Cork, Sujay Johnson, 168
corporations, 3–4, 9, 12, 22, 27, 28, 30, 33, 35, 38, 39–40, 51, 53, 58, 61, 103, 151, 175, 204
“Creative Process, The” (Baldwin), 80
Crystal Clear Studios, 185–86
C-SPAN, 187–88
Culture and Anarchy (Arnold), 212
Dailey, Michael, 185–86
DA Smart, 182
Davis, Angela, 103
Dawson, Michael, 34–35