To be sure, Los Angeles didn’t catch fire because of a highfalutin debate about race as a pretext for the brutal treatment of blacks. It didn’t erupt over intellectual disputes about the twisted uses of reason, objectivity, and evidence in the justification of racial violence. Yet these factors surely played their part in the L.A. riots of 1992. The seams of black civility finally burst because black folk concluded that even when they played by the rules, they could expect nothing in return—when the evidence was clear as day, it could be explained away. Of course, race as pretext and subtext converge at King’s body. King was termed “bearlike,” “hulklike,” and “like a wounded animal” by his molesters. In view of King’s assault, these terms revealed a racially mystified description that appealed to old beliefs, as I’ve argued above, about black males as animals. And of course, by portraying him in such racially mystified terms, the cops were able to justify their vicious treatment of King: treatment befitting a beast.
This history must be kept at the forefront of any discussion of how black folk—including the jurors—viewed the evidence against Simpson. Black response to the evidence in the Simpson case might be viewed as an example of reasonable black suspicion of the uses—really misuses—of the Enlightenment and its towering offspring: objectivity and reason. Both have been used to justify black suffering and death around the globe. Both, or at least twisted versions of the two, have led rational white folk to treat rational black folk in irrational, inhumane ways, or to overlook evidence of such behavior in their fellow whites. Plus, many blacks are suspicious of medical technology. Think of the infamous Tuskegee Study begun in 1932, when three hundred black men were used as guinea pigs to test the longterm effects of untreated syphilis. Of course, there’s no direct link between such cases and the Simpson case. But such cases leave millions of blacks suspicious of the uses of sophisticated scientific technology. Especially when it is employed to prove black inferiority or to experiment with blacks as animals. A potent mix of reasonable suspicion, conspiracy theories, and paranoia thrives in pockets of black America. In the light of real abuse and suspected offenses, it is not difficult to understand how highly educated blacks could believe, for instance, that AIDS was invented to destroy black folk. Or that evidence cooked up by sophisticated science could be manufactured, distorted, or tainted to nab an innocent black man. As remote as it might seem to whites, that possibility loomed large in the Simpson case for millions of blacks. There are a thousand Mark Fuhrmans in black history. Race as context makes that fact crystal clear.
The three uses of race I’ve sketched might also clear up confusion about the socalled race card. The “race card” invariably referred to Johnnie Cochran’s introduction of race as a factor in Simpson’s trial. It referred especially to the defense’s intended blasting of Mark Fuhrman, and to Cochran’s statements outside the court about the pervasive nature of race in our nation. But we should make distinctions. First, the charge that Cochran played the race card is a charge of racial justification. That is, it is a charge that he used race as a pretext to argue Simpson’s lack of guilt because of Fuhrman’s racist behavior. That charge against Cochran is a separate issue from the validity of his point about the pervasiveness of race, which is a question of the context of race—of whether the facts, or at least an interpretation of the facts, warrant Cochran’s assertion about how pervasive race is.
During the trial, and in commentary since the trial ended, the two meanings have been blurred. Cochran’s point about racial pervasiveness was taken as a justification for his use of race in Simpson’s defense. In fact, I think it was an attempt at racial clarification, an attempt to clarify the huge impact of race in our culture. By discussing the pervasiveness of race, Cochran sought to do a difficult thing: to talk about white racism and the privileges and penalties it bestows. It is certainly possible to disagree with Cochran’s use, or interpretation, of the facts. One can argue that Cochran used legitimate facts in a distorted way. But one cannot ignore the truth of his statements about the prevalence of race in our culture. By keeping the two meanings of race separate, we won’t automatically confuse speaking about the facts of race or racism with an attempt to justify unprincipled arguments or exploitative behavior.
For many whites, racial clarification and racial justification are the same. This is especially true when talking about race goes against white beliefs about the disappearance or absence of racism. The question, of course, is whether race made a difference in Simpson’s case. For Cochran and millions of blacks, the reasonable answer was yes. The reasonableness of that answer is partially determined by an undeniable fact: the bad treatment of blacks by the police. Mark Fuhrman’s bigoted behavior only reinforced the belief among millions of blacks that he might have framed O.J.
If we look closely, it will become clear that the race card (racial justification) was played in the Simpson trial from the beginning. The question of which jurors to select was racially motivated. Both the defense and the prosecution took race into account. The decision to bring Christopher Darden onto the prosecution team was driven by race. The prosecution’s decision to stick with Fuhrman, even when it was apparent that he was a racist, carried racial overtones. The race card had been drawn and dealt long before Cochran even came on the scene. It should be evident that the “race card” metaphor is a limited way to understand how race operates. As an instance of racial justification, the race card metaphor leaves aside the context and the subtext of race. The race card metaphor fails to account for the complexity of race. It fails to show how racism poisons civic life and denies the worth of human beings because of their color. Race is not a card. It is a condition. It is a set of beliefs and behaviors shaped by culture, rooted in history, and fueled by passions that transcend reason.
Understanding the complexity of race can throw light on the actions of the black jurors in the Simpson case. The jurors’ verdicts were widely viewed as a failure to transcend race. They were also viewed, in the words of a ’70s James Brown hit, as the “big payback” to whites for all the wrong they’ve done. Furthermore, the jurors were accused of failing to critically weigh the evidence in the case. Racial clarification helps to identify a historical paradox of race for blacks relating to claims of this sort: when dealing with their peers, blacks are seen as fair—that is, neutral, just, and transcending race—only when they oppose perceived black interests. For many whites, the black jurors could only transcend race, and satisfy the demands of justice and good citizenship, by finding Simpson guilty of murder. Because the jury found Simpson not guilty, many whites believed their decision was an instance of racial justification, that the verdicts were a biased judgment, a pretext for racial solidarity.
But blacks routinely convict black defendants. (I should know. I saw my brother sentenced to life in prison by an all black jury.) Neither are whites viewed as unfair when they fail to send a white defendant to jail. Whites are not viewed in such cases as expressing white solidarity. Unless, of course, the defendant is accused of a crime against a black person. Even then, whites defend their decisions as just. They often claim their decisions are made without regard to color. Whites are rarely asked to consider the role race plays in the decisions they make. This is especially the case when their decisions involve unconscious expressions of group loyalty.
Racial mystification may help to explain veiled, and not-so-veiled, references to the black jurors’ intelligence. The subtext of criticisms aimed at the black jurors was drenched in race: they were uneducated, hence, intellectually inferior. It’s interesting to note how dismissed white juror Francine Florio-Bunten’s story casts light on racial mystification in the trial. Florio-Bunten claims she would have voted to convict Simpson. She has been celebrated, in coded terms, as a white heroine who would have saved the day by representing the “truth”—that is, “white” interests. Florio-Bunten was lauded for being the only juror who knew what “DNA” stood for at the beginning of the trial. (The subtext is that the black jurors, by contr
ast, were dumb.) Florio-Bunten also claims that she had decided Simpson’s guilt long before the trial had ended. Yet, unlike the black jurors, who were viciously attacked for arriving at a hasty decision (after four hours of deliberation), Florio-Bunten has been exempt from harsh criticism. Florio-Bunten is even more ingratiating to whites when she claims that no amount of deliberation by her cohorts would have swayed her opinion. (Subtext: she would have resisted “black interests” and stood firm for “white interests.”) The stigma black jurors wear—dumb, race loyalists, un-American—is the stigma attached to many blacks who risk white rage by reaching decisions that upset white interests and beliefs.
In the final analysis, what race as context, race as subtext, and race as pretext cannot help us gain is certainty about the motives that lurk in the hearts of human beings. We don’t know what intentions or motivations people have apart from the behavior we can observe. (That is the frustration for blacks confronting subtle forms of racism that are not manifest in overt action.) Despite every effort to explain the jury’s actions, it may be that race, of whatever sort, was the motivation for their decision in the Simpson trial. No amount of knowledge or insight can protect against that possibility. Black folk already know this because they have been on the losing end of that proposition too many times before. As this case proves, it’s a bitter lesson few whites are familiar with. It may be that the jurors’ decision confirmed the worst fears of whites and blacks: Despite what many whites think about blacks—that they are morally inferior—or what many blacks think about themselves—that they are morally superior to whites—blacks and whites may be very much the same.
Oddly enough, that might be a basis for moving beyond the prism of race. Not by denying race, but by taking it into account. That is the lesson we learn from clarifying our understanding of race. Those whites who claim it is unfair, even absurd, for blacks to enjoy racial preferences deny that whites have always enjoyed such preferences on a much larger scale. Now that many whites seek to use the absurdity of racial preferences as a justification for axing programs like affirmative action, they fail to make use of history. True enough, they highlight the absurdity of the idea of race. But they remove it from a context—racial clarification—that explains its historical function—to justify white privilege. The bitter history of black struggle, the facts, are what make the idea that race is absurd valid and compelling. To take that idea out of context and to turn it against blacks without regard for history is crass and dishonest.
Then too blacks must be honest about the manner in which we have been vulnerable to race exploiters who deny the importance of race. If racial justice is our dominant concern, then the cases of prisoners Geronimo Pratt and Mumia AbuJamal should have goaded us to action long before the superrich Simpson captured our attention. And our large disinterest in the trials of rappers Snoop Doggy Dogg, Tupac Shakur, and Dr. Dre reveals a huge class and generational bias in black America. In fact, millions of blacks believed the hostile portrayals of these young blacks in the media. (I’m not suggesting that each didn’t deserve criticism for his actions. I’m simply referring to hostile black reaction to the category of “young, black male” or “rapper.”) Millions of blacks believed in these rappers’ probable guilt simply because they were rappers. Millions of blacks didn’t rally around these rappers, who probably had more cash than Simpson. Many blacks wrote them off. Why? They weren’t the right kind of blacks. They weren’t “our” kind of role models. Yet such figures, given the wide public hostility aimed at them, are more likely to be targets of white fear and police misconduct than a rich, well-loved black sports icon like O.J. Class divisions in black life are huge and growing.
In the end, we can only have racial progress if we take the lessons of this case seriously. Despite the undeniable advances we have made, despite the enormous strides taken, we remain a deeply divided society. (Although this case framed our racial problems in black and white, we must certainly realize that there are all sorts of racial and ethnic tensions brewing that involve Asian, Native American, and Latino communities.) We cannot wish our differences away. We must work to increase our understanding of the contexts, pretexts, and subtexts of race. Then we must do something concrete about racial suffering and racial injustice. We have the negative examples of O.J. Simpson and Mark Fuhrman, the two men at the center of this trial, to spur us on past their, and our, tragic limitations and failures. Simpson, in particular, is a man without a country. The white folk who once adored him, and whose acceptance Simpson still seeks, now despise him. The blacks Simpson has never shown much interest in, and who have welcomed him, do not inspire his allegiance.
In perhaps one of the most tragic ironies this case has served up, a black man who lived his life avoiding black culture was ultimately set free because of a white bigot who hated blacks and worked at the core of urban black life. The cruel symmetry of their fates at the hands of a black culture that each, in his own way, found troubling is nearly biblical. If we are not careful, their fates will be the nation’s as well.
PART THREE
AFFIRMATIVE ACTION
There is little doubt that affirmative action is a controversial public policy that has been bitterly debated in the nation’s long and chaotic battle for racial justice. I think it is best to tell the truth about affirmative action: that it is not a cure-all for our racial miasma; that it is not fair for whites who have enjoyed centuries of unchallenged social advantage to carp about the relatively small benefits distributed to minorities; and that too often the discussion of racial justice is yanked out of a truthful political context and smothered by amnesia. If we ever ginned up the courage to speak honestly about race, we might also open up unexpected avenues of racial healing.
Six
DEBATING AFFIRMATIVE ACTION
A headline in the University of Pennsylvania’s student newspaper, theDaily Pennsylvanian, barely captured the tenor of the debate between me and University of Michigan professor Carl Cohen when it declared: “Taping of ‘Justice Talking’ Turns Heated.” The debate, moderated by Margot Adler, took place at Penn’s Wistar Institute, and was edited for broadcast on NPR’sJustice Talking. Although the finished version screened some of our most acrimonious exchanges, a vibrant measure of our fundamental disagreement survives on the pages of our transcribed and edited debate. Cohen, a Michigan philosophy professor, helped instigate the anti–affirmative action movement at the university that led to two lawsuits targeting the institution’s undergraduate and law school admissions policies, both of which were heard before the Supreme Court in 2003. I received quite a bit of correspondence after this debate aired shortly before the cases were argued before the Supreme Court on April 1, and again after the Court’s decision in June. Besides a widely viewed debate on C-SPAN between me and black conservative activist Ward Connerly, this encounter with Cohen provides my most extensive response to the issues surrounding this critical racial policy.
Moderator: From the Annenberg Public Policy Center at the University of Pennsylvania, I’m Margot Adler. Welcome to Justice Talking. Do we still need affirmative action? The United States Supreme Court will rule this term on whether the University of Michigan can consider race when evaluating applicants to its undergraduate and law schools. Like many prestigious colleges and universities, Michigan takes the position that diversity itself has an important educational value, and that the school must maintain its academic freedom to create a student body with the widest range of people, ideas, and experiences. U of M gives African American applicants additional points just for being black, and whites who didn’t get in have sued, claiming reverse discrimination . . . Affirmative action—will it prevent the resegregation of our country’s institutions of higher learning? Is diversity a value so important in the twentyfirst century that colleges may discriminate against whites?
I’m joined by Carl Cohen, who has taught philosophy at the University of Michigan since 1955. Professor Cohen’s request for these policies under the Freedom of I
nformation Act is credited with sparking the movement to end race-based admissions at the university. He is the author of a book called Naked Racial Preference. Michael Eric Dyson is also with us. He’s the Avalon Foundation Professor in the Humanities at the University of Pennsylvania. Known as a hip-hop intellectual, Professor Dyson is also a Baptist minister and the author of Race Rules: Navigating the Color Line. We’re thrilled to have both of you here on Justice Talking.
Moderator: So Carl, how do the University of Michigan’s affirmative action policies work? And how does race figure into the equation?
Cohen: Race figures into the equation heavily, both on the undergraduate level and in the law school. There are two different systems, and that’s why there are two different cases. In the undergraduate case, additional points are actually given on a scale, which one hundred points eventually assures admission. Twenty points are given for color of skin. I find that, of course, deeply wrong. In the law school, a point system is not used, but a critical mass of minority students is sought.
The Michael Eric Dyson Reader Page 13
