The inside of Obama’s head must be a fascinating place. Our
first black President, clearly one of the most self-aware and brilliant minds
that ever held the office, must not only walk a line between sympathy for black
victims of unwarranted police violence and support for the risky work that
police must do daily to maintain us as a society of laws, but also make
wrenching, complex decisions about how best to put the enormous military forces
at his disposal to constructive use in faraway lands.
Further, he presides over a gridlocked congress, subject to an
apparent subliminal racism of its own, that has fought him tooth and nail, him
and anyone else who thinks a few small gun law reforms might not be a bad idea
at this chaotic moment in our history. At the same time, he meets with subordinates regularly to decide who may be
worthy of assassination by drone somewhere in the lawless hinterlands of
Afghanistan, Yemen, Syria, Somalia, Libya, Pakistan or Iraq—what some have
called extra-judicial murder. Sometimes the cognitive dissonance must be
mind-boggling.
Martin Luther King Jr., in his famous Riverside Church
speech of 1967, “Beyond Vietnam,” cataloged
the ingredients of the toxic brew we must acknowledge and eliminate if we
really hope to make America great: rampant racism, materialism, and militarism.
America’s original sin, the slave trade and the tragic consequences that have
unfolded from that sin, is far from resolved. Donald Trump’s rhetoric only
drags us back into the dark side of our history, taking us further from the
light of resolution.
Racism, materialism, and militarism are closely woven into our culture and with each
other. When our militarism seeks out
enemies to justify itself, they are frequently non-white (and since World War
II except for some Serbs in 1999, when we actually attack and kill, none are caucasian).
Our economic system, rigged to benefit a small number of the privileged, is
fatally tied to the manufacture of bombs and fighter planes and missiles and
submarines. Material greed is the motivational engine driving the contemptible
lobbyists for the gun industry like the NRA and the equally contemptible politicians that lack the courage
to pass common-sense gun regulation. The “chickens coming home to roost”
element in the Dallas horror is inescapable. The shooter was a veteran who had
been deployed to Afghanistan. Instead of trying to capture him alive, perhaps
allowing us to learn more about whether his experience abroad affected his
mental stability, a “drone” (robot-delivered) bomb was used to blow him up, a
tactic associated with the military, never before with police.
One way we have avoided confronting ourselves has been to
take on the strange and futile task of playing policeman to the whole world.
What gives us the moral authority to play this exalted role? The events of this
past week demonstrate how much work we have to do at home before we browbeat
the rest of the world into arranging their affairs to suit our interests.
Erik Wilson, the black deputy mayor pro tem of Dallas, spoke
the most important words this week: “No conflict has ever been solved with
violence,” he told CNN. “It’s always been solved with conversation. And that is something that we need to focus on.”
If this country—if this planet—is
to have a future beyond racism, militarism,
and materialism, we and our leaders must
embrace Erik Wilson’s diagnosis and prescription as something worthy of consistent application at home and abroad. What
kind of conversation with each other and with our fellow human beings beyond
our borders will give form to a shared vision of peace beyond our own “civil
wars” and the endless war on terror? What example could we set here that might
help Shia and Sunni understand that “no conflict has ever been solved with
violence?”
There’s a huge upside to our situation: we are a free
country; in fact, we are still the hope
of the world, as we know because so many millions would give an arm and a leg
to come here. We are free to face our pain, anger and fear, and our addiction
to violence as the unworkable response to these emotions. We are free to name
our challenges honestly, and to find new ways to meet them by deep conversation in our “civil public square.”
Whether we agree or disagree with the specific prescriptions
of a candidate like Bernie Sanders, he has exemplified an integrity and moral
consistency that speaks to many of us, especially young people. He has touched
a longing in us, only intensified by this week’s horrors, to embrace a vision of
authenticity and inclusivity beyond the reflexive
violence of the wars at home and wars abroad that share all too much in common.
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