The worst thing in the world is to be called a racist. Because there is no defense against this pejorative. Oh, you can say: No I'm Not. Good luck with that, pal. Obviously, that answer is not working. So I propose the opposite idea.
Of course I'm a racist. Isn't everyone?
Doesn't everyone prefer their own kind best? For instance, your liberal anti-racist may sneer and be ashamed of his rich-kid whiteness. But that's because his whiteness is not his identity. For a lefty xir leftiness is xir identity. Call him a lefty and he feels the compliment.
I'm a racist because I like my own kind best. As a family I am deeply conscious of how my family dodged the bullets of the 20th century that mowed down tens of millions and enslaved hundreds of millions: how my dad, born in Russia, got out in 1918 just in time; how my mother, born in Japan, got out in 1940 just in time; how I, born in India, got out in 1948 after Indian Independence because the Indians were too busy killing each other to bother about the left-over Brits.
As a man descended from northwest Europeans I am deeply conscious and proud of the remarkable contributions to humanity made by northwest Europeans, from limited government to finance to science to understanding and developing the concepts of the market economy and the nation state, and getting embarrassed about slavery, that ultimate expression of hierarchy, and doing something about it.
As an American I am deeply proud of the Founders, those remarkable men that seized political power and then walked away from it, in part with their separation of powers doctrine and in part with the repeated actions of George Washington, man on a white horse that twice walked away from a kingly crown: first as the victorious commanding general of a revolutionary war; and second as a two-term president.
As a white person I am deeply proud of the civil rights revolution that extended to a subordinate minority, blacks, the promise of equal rights under the law. In what country, ever, has the dominant majority ever extended the hand as the Americans of the 1950s and 1960s extended the hand of equal rights to African Americans, because they thought it was the right thing to do?
Look, I get it. In politics, the whole point is to divide the world up into Us and Them, and we humans are groupish, we identify with groups: with our immediate family, with our kindred, with our city, with our nation, with our identity as educated globalists. I like to say that we are all tribesmen, except that back in the day of the hunter-gatherer the boundaries of tribe were much more flexible than, say, the boundaries of American citizenship.
Every war leader, rallying his people to the defense of the homeland, automatically encourages his people to identify as members of a fake tribe, the community of people that need to band together to defend the homeland. The tribe might be a hunter-gatherer band; it might be a horticultural village; it might be an agricultural fiefdom; it might be a nation state. And in the modern era of identity politics, the war leader may call upon our identity as black, or white, or male, or female or gay. Doesn't really matter. Humans respond to the call to arms, and form themselves by instinct into ranks and files, and believe the things that their leaders tell them. There is no difference between any of these tribes, called into existence to meet the threat. We humans are groupish; we establish our identity with our group memberships, especially in the hour of need.
Our lefty friends, it must be said, have become the world champs when it comes to discovering new ways in which to form humans into ranks and files and set them against each other. And what they have learned from the military leaders, or instinctively stumbled upon, is that you cannot really form a strong group unless that group is experienced as being under attack. Thus, to get African Americans to vote 90 percent for Democrats, you must terrify African Americans into believing that Jim Crow is just around the corner. This is, of course, no different that rallying Americans to fight in World War II by terrifying them about Nazis. Or rallying them to fight the Cold War by terrifying them about Commies. Or rallying them to occupy the Middle East by terrifying them about Muslims. Or rallying rich-kid white activists for the #Resistance by terrifying them about white supremacy and toxic masculinity.
So yeah. Call me a racist. I don't care. Because all the vile accusations flying around are merely the crude attempts of political activists to divide people and conquer them. But accusations only work when we cringe. If we do not cringe, then the accusation starts to lose its power.
OK, OK. It's easy for me to say that, because I don't earn my living in the public square: I can't be "canceled."
But right now the accusation of racism is an accusation against which there is no defense. You cannot say: no I'm not! And you certainly cannot throw the accusation back into the face of an African American.
So really, the only thing to do is to own it. Yes. I'm a racist. Whaddya going to do about it, pal?
Of course I'm a racist. Isn't everyone?
Doesn't everyone prefer their own kind best? For instance, your liberal anti-racist may sneer and be ashamed of his rich-kid whiteness. But that's because his whiteness is not his identity. For a lefty xir leftiness is xir identity. Call him a lefty and he feels the compliment.
I'm a racist because I like my own kind best. As a family I am deeply conscious of how my family dodged the bullets of the 20th century that mowed down tens of millions and enslaved hundreds of millions: how my dad, born in Russia, got out in 1918 just in time; how my mother, born in Japan, got out in 1940 just in time; how I, born in India, got out in 1948 after Indian Independence because the Indians were too busy killing each other to bother about the left-over Brits.
As a man descended from northwest Europeans I am deeply conscious and proud of the remarkable contributions to humanity made by northwest Europeans, from limited government to finance to science to understanding and developing the concepts of the market economy and the nation state, and getting embarrassed about slavery, that ultimate expression of hierarchy, and doing something about it.
As an American I am deeply proud of the Founders, those remarkable men that seized political power and then walked away from it, in part with their separation of powers doctrine and in part with the repeated actions of George Washington, man on a white horse that twice walked away from a kingly crown: first as the victorious commanding general of a revolutionary war; and second as a two-term president.
As a white person I am deeply proud of the civil rights revolution that extended to a subordinate minority, blacks, the promise of equal rights under the law. In what country, ever, has the dominant majority ever extended the hand as the Americans of the 1950s and 1960s extended the hand of equal rights to African Americans, because they thought it was the right thing to do?
Look, I get it. In politics, the whole point is to divide the world up into Us and Them, and we humans are groupish, we identify with groups: with our immediate family, with our kindred, with our city, with our nation, with our identity as educated globalists. I like to say that we are all tribesmen, except that back in the day of the hunter-gatherer the boundaries of tribe were much more flexible than, say, the boundaries of American citizenship.
Every war leader, rallying his people to the defense of the homeland, automatically encourages his people to identify as members of a fake tribe, the community of people that need to band together to defend the homeland. The tribe might be a hunter-gatherer band; it might be a horticultural village; it might be an agricultural fiefdom; it might be a nation state. And in the modern era of identity politics, the war leader may call upon our identity as black, or white, or male, or female or gay. Doesn't really matter. Humans respond to the call to arms, and form themselves by instinct into ranks and files, and believe the things that their leaders tell them. There is no difference between any of these tribes, called into existence to meet the threat. We humans are groupish; we establish our identity with our group memberships, especially in the hour of need.
Our lefty friends, it must be said, have become the world champs when it comes to discovering new ways in which to form humans into ranks and files and set them against each other. And what they have learned from the military leaders, or instinctively stumbled upon, is that you cannot really form a strong group unless that group is experienced as being under attack. Thus, to get African Americans to vote 90 percent for Democrats, you must terrify African Americans into believing that Jim Crow is just around the corner. This is, of course, no different that rallying Americans to fight in World War II by terrifying them about Nazis. Or rallying them to fight the Cold War by terrifying them about Commies. Or rallying them to occupy the Middle East by terrifying them about Muslims. Or rallying rich-kid white activists for the #Resistance by terrifying them about white supremacy and toxic masculinity.
So yeah. Call me a racist. I don't care. Because all the vile accusations flying around are merely the crude attempts of political activists to divide people and conquer them. But accusations only work when we cringe. If we do not cringe, then the accusation starts to lose its power.
OK, OK. It's easy for me to say that, because I don't earn my living in the public square: I can't be "canceled."
But right now the accusation of racism is an accusation against which there is no defense. You cannot say: no I'm not! And you certainly cannot throw the accusation back into the face of an African American.
So really, the only thing to do is to own it. Yes. I'm a racist. Whaddya going to do about it, pal?
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