On Narrative, Presupposition, and History
It's the funny thing about disclaimers; I wouldn't know what to tell certain neighbors around the world, because it's true, Americans who think of themselves as somewhat average or normal, have a hard time with this sort of question. To the other, when it comes to certain questions and issues, it might well be there are plenty of people halfway around the world, or some such, who have a better clue than the average American. The underlying point has to do with narrative voice and perspective.
For instance, Sohail Daulatzai reflects, ca. 2012, on the inauguration of Barack Obama:
And, while he does go on, it is worth taking the moment amid that introductory narrative to observe that some people might already be confused. There's good news and bad to that. The good news is that you're not alone; the somewhat normal or average American would be, too. The bad news is that, well, the somewhat normal or average American would be, too.
But it's true, this is one in which certain people abroad probably don't understand, and certain other people abroad might. Indeed, Daulatzai himself is Pakistani-American, not African-American, and his pathway to this narrative is both something the average American is largely unaware of, but also almost literally bleeds through where the internationalist perspective intersects with American Islam.
Even late in Obama's first term it was evident that, no, there was no national exorcism, no purging or reckoning of history. And the would-be exorcism of Malcolm X not only failed, but never could have succeeded; it was either desperate and gratuitous, or else terribly ignorant, take your choice, but it is impossible to pretend around the point. What history informs, since, utterly rejects any vindication of "emphasis on the ballot and nonviolence in contrast with what was assumed about Malcolm and the bullet".
Make the point, then, that feels so obvious. The problem remains, nonetheless; it was always a false equivalence. These are all, in their way, questions of narrative.
And that's what feels confusing; the underlying historical narrative presupposes the world differently, and if Daulatzai would seem to veer and verge toward the radical, two points worth observing are that it is easy, in the prevailing narrative, to pretend any intersection with internationalism is somehow radical, and that the thirteen years since have seriously eroded this part of the prevailing narrative.
It's one thing, for instance, if neoliberalism, as such, sought to chastise what our American prevailing historical narrative considers Black radicalism in saying, "Those who doubt the supremacy of the ballot over the bullet can never diminish the power engendered by nonviolent struggles for justice and equality", but it was conservatives who who brought that doubt to bear.
Maybe we could have gotten away with pretending the historical vindication of "emphasis on the ballot and nonviolence in contrast with what was assumed about Malcolm and the bullet", but these are the United States of America, and that's just too much to ask of people. And, no, not the internationalists, or the radicals; that would be the would-be normal or average Americans.
In the time of conservative "anti-woke" obsession, this sort of woke would leave them shook to incoherence because it transcends the boundaries of their historical narrative, i.e., it's a bigger idea and discussion than they are accustomed to imagining, and thus feels implicitly alien and beyond their reach.
More liberal narratives, as such, are fundamentally shook by the collapse of a tepid and timid Civil Rights narrative that never, in the care of the American conscience, stood a chance. Perhaps it seems a nearly radical suggestion: It's one thing if this Civil Rights narrative led to Obama's presidency, but Daulatzi is not wrong that it "has been used to rewrite the 1960s, underwrite the white backlash and the 'culture wars' of the 1980s and '90s, and cement the politics of the New Right, which assumes that race has been transcended, and that the United States has fulfilled its national destiny."
And the important difference is not whether this internationalist narrative is radical or not, nor whether the difference of the last thirteen years changes our assessment; rather, the difference to observe is that the prevailing narratives, and prevailing narrative paradigm, by which those assessments are made and justified, are broken, and perhaps irreparably.
____________________
Notes:
Daulatzai, Sohail. Black Star, Crescent Moon: The Muslim International and Black Freedom Beyond America. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012.
"For many, Obama's election was a national exorcism, a purging of the past and a reckoning with the present, as the empire was reeling from massive discontent, economic anxieties, and the perpetual wars fought in its name."
― Sohail Daulatzai
It's the funny thing about disclaimers; I wouldn't know what to tell certain neighbors around the world, because it's true, Americans who think of themselves as somewhat average or normal, have a hard time with this sort of question. To the other, when it comes to certain questions and issues, it might well be there are plenty of people halfway around the world, or some such, who have a better clue than the average American. The underlying point has to do with narrative voice and perspective.
For instance, Sohail Daulatzai reflects, ca. 2012, on the inauguration of Barack Obama:
While the spirit of Dr. King was already present, the figure of Malcolm X was also conjured, if only to try to exorcize him from the national past and the nation's future. A key and telling moment occurred when Senator Dianne Feinstein, of California, gave the introductory remarks at the inauguration, saying, "Those who doubt the supremacy of the ballot over the bullet can never diminish the power engendered by nonviolent struggles for justice and equality―like the one that made this day possible." Feinstein continued, saying that future generations would "look back and remember that this was the moment that the dream that once echoed across history from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial finally reached the walls of the White House" ....
.... Not surprisingly, on the inauguration day of a Black president, both Dr. King and Malcolm X―the twin poles of Black redemptive possibility―were conjured and invoked. And the stark choices they purported to represent no longer seemed relevant with the election of Obama. For the choices between integration and separation, dream and nightmare, Civil Rights and Black Power, patriot and ineternationalist, were now seemingly irrelevant, for as Feinstein suggested, King's and Civil Rights' emphasis on the ballot and nonviolence in contrast with what was assumed about Malcolm and the bullet was vindicated by history through the election of Obama to the White House.
But in celebrating King and Civil Rights that day, Feinstein unsurprisingly viewed King through a narrow interpretive lens, invoking a frozen and ossified memory of him―one in which he is remembered as the "I Have a Dream" American, not the insurgent anti-imperialist who changed his views in 1967 and linked racism and U.S. militarism, vehemently protesting the Vietnam War and calling the United States "the biggest purveyor of violence in the world," only to be assassinated in 1968. While King's internationalism and criticism of the U.S. society were ignored in favor of a more accommodating image of him, Feinstein invoked Malcolm in order to dismiss him not only because of his call for a Black internationalism that tied the fates of Black peoples with decolonization in the Third World but also because of his penetrating critiques of U.S. foreign policy. In celebrating that pacifist memory of King and ignoring and dismissing the penetrating depth of his and Malcolm's thought, not only did Feinstein and the political establishment frame Obama's victory with the triumphalist narrative of Civil Rights, but more important, Obama's victory also served as a vehicle to co-opt, contain, and strip away any of the remaining vestiges of internationalist impulses emanating from Black political culture.
But in the logic of Civil Rights, Feinstein was suggesting and reaffirming that, yes, Black peoples do have a stake in this country and that the feeling is mutual―that not only does their vote count, but it also matters. The narrative of Civil Rights has tremendous purchase and traction in the United States, because it has been used to rewrite the 1960s, underwrite the white backlash and the "culture wars" of the 1980s and '90s, and cement the politics of the New Right, which assumes that race has been transcended, and that the United States has fulfilled its national destiny. Most important, the Civil Rights narrative has assumed that Black freedom could be achieved within the legal frameworks and political institutions of the United States.
(ix-xi)
.... Not surprisingly, on the inauguration day of a Black president, both Dr. King and Malcolm X―the twin poles of Black redemptive possibility―were conjured and invoked. And the stark choices they purported to represent no longer seemed relevant with the election of Obama. For the choices between integration and separation, dream and nightmare, Civil Rights and Black Power, patriot and ineternationalist, were now seemingly irrelevant, for as Feinstein suggested, King's and Civil Rights' emphasis on the ballot and nonviolence in contrast with what was assumed about Malcolm and the bullet was vindicated by history through the election of Obama to the White House.
But in celebrating King and Civil Rights that day, Feinstein unsurprisingly viewed King through a narrow interpretive lens, invoking a frozen and ossified memory of him―one in which he is remembered as the "I Have a Dream" American, not the insurgent anti-imperialist who changed his views in 1967 and linked racism and U.S. militarism, vehemently protesting the Vietnam War and calling the United States "the biggest purveyor of violence in the world," only to be assassinated in 1968. While King's internationalism and criticism of the U.S. society were ignored in favor of a more accommodating image of him, Feinstein invoked Malcolm in order to dismiss him not only because of his call for a Black internationalism that tied the fates of Black peoples with decolonization in the Third World but also because of his penetrating critiques of U.S. foreign policy. In celebrating that pacifist memory of King and ignoring and dismissing the penetrating depth of his and Malcolm's thought, not only did Feinstein and the political establishment frame Obama's victory with the triumphalist narrative of Civil Rights, but more important, Obama's victory also served as a vehicle to co-opt, contain, and strip away any of the remaining vestiges of internationalist impulses emanating from Black political culture.
But in the logic of Civil Rights, Feinstein was suggesting and reaffirming that, yes, Black peoples do have a stake in this country and that the feeling is mutual―that not only does their vote count, but it also matters. The narrative of Civil Rights has tremendous purchase and traction in the United States, because it has been used to rewrite the 1960s, underwrite the white backlash and the "culture wars" of the 1980s and '90s, and cement the politics of the New Right, which assumes that race has been transcended, and that the United States has fulfilled its national destiny. Most important, the Civil Rights narrative has assumed that Black freedom could be achieved within the legal frameworks and political institutions of the United States.
(ix-xi)
And, while he does go on, it is worth taking the moment amid that introductory narrative to observe that some people might already be confused. There's good news and bad to that. The good news is that you're not alone; the somewhat normal or average American would be, too. The bad news is that, well, the somewhat normal or average American would be, too.
But it's true, this is one in which certain people abroad probably don't understand, and certain other people abroad might. Indeed, Daulatzai himself is Pakistani-American, not African-American, and his pathway to this narrative is both something the average American is largely unaware of, but also almost literally bleeds through where the internationalist perspective intersects with American Islam.
Even late in Obama's first term it was evident that, no, there was no national exorcism, no purging or reckoning of history. And the would-be exorcism of Malcolm X not only failed, but never could have succeeded; it was either desperate and gratuitous, or else terribly ignorant, take your choice, but it is impossible to pretend around the point. What history informs, since, utterly rejects any vindication of "emphasis on the ballot and nonviolence in contrast with what was assumed about Malcolm and the bullet".
Make the point, then, that feels so obvious. The problem remains, nonetheless; it was always a false equivalence. These are all, in their way, questions of narrative.
And that's what feels confusing; the underlying historical narrative presupposes the world differently, and if Daulatzai would seem to veer and verge toward the radical, two points worth observing are that it is easy, in the prevailing narrative, to pretend any intersection with internationalism is somehow radical, and that the thirteen years since have seriously eroded this part of the prevailing narrative.
It's one thing, for instance, if neoliberalism, as such, sought to chastise what our American prevailing historical narrative considers Black radicalism in saying, "Those who doubt the supremacy of the ballot over the bullet can never diminish the power engendered by nonviolent struggles for justice and equality", but it was conservatives who who brought that doubt to bear.
Maybe we could have gotten away with pretending the historical vindication of "emphasis on the ballot and nonviolence in contrast with what was assumed about Malcolm and the bullet", but these are the United States of America, and that's just too much to ask of people. And, no, not the internationalists, or the radicals; that would be the would-be normal or average Americans.
While Civil Rights has assumed that Black freedom is attainable within U.S. legal frameworks and political institutionalists, critical Black internationalists have historically questioned that assumption, seeing white supremacy as a global phenomenon and looking to international struggles in the Third World as lenses for their own battles with white power .... And while Civil Rights has long assumed that the United States has been a force for good in the world, whether it be through fighting and eradicating communism or any other perceived threats to U.S. national security, Black internationalists have been skeptical and have even outright challenged U.S. foreign policy, viewing it as similar to European colonialism, as an extension of Manifest Destiny and a racist logic that it practices at home.
(xii)
(xii)
In the time of conservative "anti-woke" obsession, this sort of woke would leave them shook to incoherence because it transcends the boundaries of their historical narrative, i.e., it's a bigger idea and discussion than they are accustomed to imagining, and thus feels implicitly alien and beyond their reach.
More liberal narratives, as such, are fundamentally shook by the collapse of a tepid and timid Civil Rights narrative that never, in the care of the American conscience, stood a chance. Perhaps it seems a nearly radical suggestion: It's one thing if this Civil Rights narrative led to Obama's presidency, but Daulatzi is not wrong that it "has been used to rewrite the 1960s, underwrite the white backlash and the 'culture wars' of the 1980s and '90s, and cement the politics of the New Right, which assumes that race has been transcended, and that the United States has fulfilled its national destiny."
And the important difference is not whether this internationalist narrative is radical or not, nor whether the difference of the last thirteen years changes our assessment; rather, the difference to observe is that the prevailing narratives, and prevailing narrative paradigm, by which those assessments are made and justified, are broken, and perhaps irreparably.
____________________
Notes:
Daulatzai, Sohail. Black Star, Crescent Moon: The Muslim International and Black Freedom Beyond America. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012.