First off–I’m not a trained philosopher. I don’t have special insight. I just have my opinions.
And I haven’t finished reading the book in question, “Between the World and Me,” by Ta-Nehisi Coates.
But while I’ve been reading, I’ve been listening to the reactions to the book and its message. Some have made the charge that the book is nihilistic, that it speaks of a world without meaning, where there are no dreams and no hope, where nothing matters and therefore nothing is worth doing. That because there is no “God” driving the book and its message, there is no meaning or purpose to the story. That Mr. Coates is bitter and reactive to his upbringing and environment, anti-American, and wanting to destroy all that is American.
I’ve read these responses in various places, online in formal reviews, in blog posts, in comments, on Twitter.
And while I agree that people can have their opinions, and opinions do not need to be “right” in order to be held, I also believe that an opinion based upon misunderstanding or upon an animus-based reading of the text is a wrong opinion.
I’ve read, as I’ve said, 2/3 of the book, and am working slowly on the final third.
It is slow going. The language and phrasing is rich and solemn, and it requires careful thought to examine the clauses, the words, the ideas, and to form your own opinion along the way, letting the book carry you along from preliminary reactions to a set of final conclusions.
Coates is doing what he can in the book to describe the life he lives as a black man in America, and to describe being black in America, and to describe the American experience for black people.
He is doing something very careful and deliberate in his work: he is trying very hard to say nothing that is not backed by what actually is, and not what is backed up by hope or promises or assurances that cannot be assured because they would make the future something that already exists based upon current wishes.
He describes what actually is, right now, with no attention to language that would soften the blow for his son (the book is written to his son) or for other men and women in America who find themselves with a station in life dependent upon the accident of proportions of melanin. He describes what is, alluding to the decisions and policies and governments set up by white men in America for the benefit of white men, white women, and white children, and by design to the deliberate detriment of all others in America, most especially the black man, the black woman, the black child, and in his description he makes no attempt to make it nice for white Americans. He is not attempting to give a false promise to black Americans, saying that dreams and good intentions will lead somehow to things being better, and he is not attempting to give false consideration to the tender feelings of white Americans who will not hear his words unless they are covered with treacle and disguised by ambiguities and misdirections.
It can feel like a very bleak book. It is what it is, he says. This is what it is. It is this, and this, and this. Black and white words.
He is not offering the book in order to change things. That will come from people who read the book and decide what to do with it.
He is offering the book in order to describe things. Before any ideas can be formed about what is, we have to know exactly what is. Before any thoughts about solutions to problems can be formed, we must know what the problems are, stripped of all niceties and delicacies and the adumbrations of pleasantries which disguise the base nature of black existence.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up one day and discover you are a black American. Not in some way where one day you go from being white to being black—no transmogrification. Just the realization one day that you don’t belong here, you are not wanted, the promises are not for you, the riches are not for you, safety is not guaranteed for you, dreams are not encouraged for you. One day, if you are a black American, you will be confronted with that by someone who will tell you that and who will make sure you understand your place, a place which is outside whiteness. Nothing you do or are or achieve will matter. If you are black, you will have to deal with that. If you are white, you will likely never, ever have to deal with that, because even if you think you might understand—you will never have this happen to you.
So Coates is telling you and me and everyone what that means, softening no blows. If you are black, your body and mind are of no value unless they are used by another for their profit, he says. If you are white the entire force of policy and society and culture and government are to your comfort and protection. If you are black, they are all out of reach unless by happy accident you are unmolested. For a time.
It might sound nihilistic because Coates does not go on to provide “answers” and “solutions” and “dreams.” He is writing, clearly, that thinking it will get better is magical thinking. Hoping it will get better is magical thinking. Dreams are magic and entertaining and comforting—but they do not change anything.
I find that in his bare telling of how things are, he is stripping away all the clutter that keeps people from making changes on their own.
Rather than a nihilistic approach, his approach is truthful—and with that, completely empowering.
Rather than waiting for dreams to come true, rather than praying and hoping for God to make things change, rather than expecting the long moral arc of history to bend towards justice, Coates is saying this: none of these things will change anything because none of them involve you and me. He is saying that if we think there is injustice and terror and theft and slavery, the power to change all of this lies completely in our hands, so completely that we can’t afford to waste time with dreams, with hopes, with prayers, with the expectation that it will somehow come to right if we wait long enough.
I’ve been a Christian 40+ years. In all that time I’ve seen that God does great things when people pray. I’ve seen dreams lead to wonderfully creative solutions. I’ve seen the moral sense of people become fired up to a white-hot flame, and I’ve seen changes. But in all that, what I focus on is that all these things happened because people saw a problem, found they were powerful to make changes, and they effected changes.
That is what Coates is saying–outside the dreams and hopes and prayers, it comes down to this: recognizing what is, listening to what you yourself feel a moral urgency to do–and then doing it.
This is not nihilism. This is, rather, pure pragmatism. Doing what needs to be done because it needs doing.