By Kyle Smith
Thursday, September 21, 2017
When it comes to essays about Ta-Nehisi Coates, you can
almost guess the race of the writer from the tone of the piece. If the words
ring with a sort of rapturous adulation, as though the writer feels blessed to
be allowed to absorb Coates’s wisdom and especially his chastisement, the
author tends to be white. Several prominent black writers, however, have
written pieces that are much more equivocal, suggesting Coates’s central claims
are off the mark.
The latest example is a deeply felt essay by Jason D.
Hill (he and all of the writers I quote below are black), a Jamaican-born
professor of philosophy at DePaul University who praises the power and poetry
of Coates’s words but notes in an open letter to him, “My concern is that you
and your book function as deputized stand-ins for the black male and the black
experience in America, respectively. And I believe that as stand-ins, both
fail.” Speaking of his own success in embodying the American Dream, or what
Coates derisively calls “the Dream,” Hill writes in Commentary that Coates’s fatalistic writing, particularly the
memoir Between the World and Me,
denies agency to blacks and risks alienating Coates’s son, to whom the book is
addressed and who was famously pushed on an escalator at a movie theater as a
little kid. Asking, “By what impertinence would you hold any white person
guilty for the crime of simply being born white?” Hill declares, “You are
trading on black suffering to create a perpetual caste of racial innocents. And
the currency of your economic system is white guilt.”
A number of leading black intellectuals have raised
similar points. Writing in the London
Review of Books, Thomas Chatterton Williams says that Coates has “either a
cynical or a woefully skewed way of looking at the world,” and he also scores
Coates for his denial of black agency, for reducing criminals to “hopeless
automatons.” He writes that “despite the undeniable progress that has been made
towards equal rights,” Coates insists on presenting racism and racial
disparities “as utterly intransigent and impersonal forces, like a natural
disaster, for which no one can be usefully held to account.” Coates rejects out
of hand the concept of black-on-black crime, which he believes is simply a
natural consequence of white supremacy. Yet Coates, Williams says, is being
“comforting to his white readership” when he paints all white people as equally
hapless in their sin, notably the white woman who shoved his “dawdling” son
years ago, which is “the first, worst and only negative thing we actually see
white people do to Coates or his family.” Williams writes, “It doesn’t occur to
him that she may not be an avatar of white supremacy but just a nasty person
who would have been as likely to push a blonde child or a Chinese one.”
Coates’s incensed reaction actually did injury to blacks: “As long as black
people have to be handled with infantilising care — or fear of dredging up
barely submerged ancestral pain — we’ll never be equal or free.”
Reviewing Between
the World and Me for The New York
Times Book Review, Michelle Alexander says Coates “makes me proud” but
confesses to being “disappointed” and “exasperated” after a first reading of
the book. Reading it again, she says, brought more acceptance of “a book that
offers no answers but instead challenges us to wrestle with the questions on
our own.” She adds: “And yet I cannot pretend to be entirely satisfied. Like
[James] Baldwin, I tend to think we must not ask whether it is possible for a
human being or society to become just or moral; we must believe it is
possible.”
Cedric Johnson, a professor of African-American studies
and political science at the University of Illinois at Chicago, writes for Jacobin that “Coates has convinced me
that his particular brand of antiracism does more political harm than good” and
says that it’s a “changed world, one where blackness is still derogated but
anti-black racism is not the principal determinant of material conditions and
economic mobility for many African Americans.”
In the American
Prospect, Harvard Law School Professor Randall Kennedy scolds Coates for
sometimes treating race as “the master variable that accounted for all that goes wrong for black Americans”
and points out that although “racial sentiment is, to be sure, a major force,”
it is not “the exclusive explanation of discord, unfairness, or tragedy.” He
adds, “A difficulty with attributing this much influence to white folks is that
doing so negates the will of black folks.”
Melvin L. Rogers, a professor of political science at
Brown, writes in Dissent, “When one
views white supremacy as impregnable, there is little room for one’s
imagination to soar and one’s sense of agency is inescapably constrained.”
Rogers says Coates frames black people as “helpless agents of physical laws,”
much like earthquake victims. “Okay, what do we do with that knowledge? Coates
seems to say: construct an early warning system — don’t waste energy trying to
stop the earthquake itself.” Rogers feels a “profound sense of disappointment”
in Coates’s belief that for black people there can be no escape from the chains
forged by whites. Citing Baldwin, Rogers holds that blacks “can’t afford
despair.” Even more pointedly, Rogers quotes Baldwin’s dictum (in Notes from a Native Son), “Hatred, which
could destroy so much, never failed to destroy the man who hated and this was
an immutable law.”
Praising Coates as “an important voice” in The Huffington Post, Spencer Overton
nevertheless has a skeptical ear for Coates’s rhetoric — “I doubt that
dismissing people as majoritarian pigs will reduce violence significantly” —
and for his implicit call for blacks to “disengage” from civic life: “The most
significant flaw is the book’s absence of vision and real solutions.” Coates,
he avers, fails to offer “a vision of what a healthy America or a healthy black
community would look like,” preferring instead “an amorphous directive to
‘struggle.’” He adds, “‘Struggling’ without the direction provided by a clear
vision, however, is a recipe for disaster. Fish in a boat struggle.”
Weighing these reactions against the full-throated praise
shouted by white liberal writers, John McWhorter notes that Coates isn’t really
a political analyst to them. He’s more of a spiritual leader. Tell it! say people who don’t know what
it’s like to be a black person, just as parishioners who have never been to
hell might have a spellbound reaction to a description of its torments.
Speaking of Coates’s essay “The Case for Reparations,” McWhorter says in The Daily Beast that “white people were
receiving [it] as, quite simply, a sermon. Its audience sought not counsel, but
proclamation. Coates does not write with this formal intention, but for his
readers, he is a preacher.” And his church? McWhorter says that “Antiracism —
it seriously merits capitalization at this point — is now what any naïve,
unbiased anthropologist would describe as a new and increasingly dominant
religion.” That Coates keeps saying the same things over and over is central to
his appeal: McWhorter says he is “revered” as being “gifted at phrasing,
repeating, and crafting artful variations upon points that are considered
crucial — that is, scripture.” Those holy words come from a wrathful place,
admonishing the sinners to revel in their own rebuke. For white liberals there is a kind of ecstasy
to be achieved by flaying themselves with Coates’s hot, stinging words.
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