“I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…yes, I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character” (Martin Luther King, 3). These inspirational words capture the passion and paradigm of Martin Luther King JR’s explosive oratorical style. His dream, a dream shared by many, inspired solidarity and confidence in an entire generation of freedom fighters. His dream, a dream fraught with unfettered emotion, eventually culminated in the attainment of legal civil rights in 1964. At the heart of King’s dream was a belief that all blacks would one day rise up and out of servitude, become free agents with a free will, and thereby reach a “promised land” where all races lived together in peace. With the dawn of the new century upon us, however, we must ask ourselves, what has become of this utopian dream and where is the “promised land” that King so eloquently embodied? Shelby Steele, in A Dream Deferred, would argue that we still have not attained it. Scott posits that the advent of post-sixties liberalism has given birth to a “victim focused racial identity” which has ultimately “stifled black advancement more than racism itself”(Steele, 4). This popular attitude, which has caused a shift in focus “from protest to suppression”, is at the base of an unhealthy contingency that exists between the races, and one in which black fate is inescapably linked to white redemption. Simultaneously, blacks have relinquished their free will, become dependent on whites, and have, in the process, become empowered by it. Whites, on the other hand, have willingly relinquished their power in an effort to gain forgiveness for their past. Scott claims that this co-dependency has created a false sense of power since blacks have bartered agency for authority, and without agency there can be no freedom. In other words, as long as one group sustains control over another, regardless of the form that control takes, there is no true equality. Steele notes, “Whites agree to stay on the hook for an illusion of redemption, and blacks agree to keep them there for an illusion of power” (11). He theorizes that since “black fate remains in white hands,” we have not moved that far beyond slavery or segregation. We have instead replaced the physical chains with social welfare and intervention, which, in turn, has belittled the intellectual capacities and abilities of individual African Americans. That is to say, we have created a “functional symbioses” in lieu of King’s promised land (12).
Steele utilizes two key concepts to support this symbiotic contingency: totalism and victimization. These two concepts together form the base of our co-dependency, and have created a structural sense of freedom. Steele observes, “To accept victimization not as one of many variables but as a totalism was to see it as structural- so built into the patterns of society that it could be manifested apart from human will” (13). In other words, freedom has become mere words instead of reality, and victimization has become the sole reason for black underachievement. This totalistic vision ignores all other aspects and hindrances. Steele notes, “victimization is treated as a totalism” which therefore “keeps us from understanding the true nature of our suffering. It leads us to believe that all suffering is victimization and that all relief comes from the guilty good-heartedness of others. But people can suffer from bad ideas, from ignorance, fear, a poor assessment of reality, and from politics that commits them to the idea of themselves as victims” (10). Steele objects to a totalistic view of oppression since it creates a crutch for blacks to lean on, and undermines all forms of accountability. Additionally, Steele believes that this lack of accountability prevents blacks from experiencing the pride of accomplishment through the achievement of goals: “the principles of merit, excellence, hard work, delayed gratification, individual achievement, personal responsibility, and so on- [are] principles without which blacks can never achieve true equality” (20). In essence, blacks have shortchanged themselves in their grasp for power, by placing themselves at the mercy of whites and their need for redemption.
Before we can ultimately outgrow this contingency, however, we need to understand the foundation of our racial co-dependency, and how the duality of black victimization and white redemption initially developed. All relationships are based on an exchange of power and benefits. Because of this, human nature allows for co-dependency to flourish in most relationships, racial or otherwise. Shirley Hune, in “Rethinking Race: Paradigms and Policy Formation,” notes that, “people who benefit from existing racial paradigms have a vested interest in maintaining them and tend to resist innovation” (29). This irony of this statement is that it was apropos of whites prior to civil rights, and is applicable to blacks now. It highlights our natural tendency to cling to what feels beneficial, whether it is or isn’t, and quantifies our fear of letting go. Put most simply, our co-dependency is a disorder of both fear and responsibility. Within the framework of this disorder, whites assume too much responsibility, and blacks do not assume enough. More importantly, it accentuates a lack of choice and freedom, since one race relies on the other for survival. Our desire to produce racial equality has driven us to devise relationships that are detrimental since they destroy rather than build confidence. This lack of confidence keeps the relationship of black victimization and white redemption strong. If we are to overcome this, we need to control more of our own lives and displace less responsibility.
Claiming this control will not be easy since “racial paradigms are also embedded in ideologies, policies, and practices and are integrated into the formal structures and institutions of U.S. society as well as our everyday lives” (Hune, 29). That is to say, “They [have] become habits of mind and patterns of behavior taught to subsequent generations of scholars” (Hune, 29). These habits of mind underscore much of our social orientation, and, as with all habits, are not necessarily beneficial. An example of this is Steele’s assessment of conventional wisdom: “Government, corporate America, universities, foundations-they [are] all in the business of seeing blacks as victims, of trading an illusion of power for an illusion of redemption. Everybody [is] practiced in these negotiations” (11-12). But what are we practiced in, the condoning of preferential practices or the conformity to them? Hune would argue that it is conformity, and I would tend to agree. Society has conventionalized standards that we do not necessarily believe in, simply because they have become patterns and habits. The problem is that this type of conventional wisdom usually eliminates individual agency, and without agency we lack freedom.
Although Steele has a correct diagnosis of the problem, he fails to deliver an adequate solution. His answers are radical, and perhaps, just as harmful as the problem he rallies against. As a society, we need to encourage a shift in paradigms that is elaborate enough to dislodge all forms of victimization, but not so extreme that our minorities loose their footing on an even playing field. We need create an environment in which minorities can learn to help themselves, and not hang them out to dry. In this sense, Hune supports a reassessment of our “traditional frameworks,” by changing “how problems and policies are perceived and developed,” not a complete eradication. In other words, if we can acknowledge that our programs are based on an outdated paradigm, we can challenge and refine our archaic concept of race relations. By doing this, a new model will inevitably emerge. This emergence will cause an evolution in the way we see race and define social equality. If we strive to accept each other’s cultural differences, without quantifying them in terms of dependency and victimization, we can begin to overcome this strange contingency.
Since Steele fails to realize that demolishing our social programs will not provide an adequate answer to our cultural ills, he offers no real end to his contingency. His solution negates the fact that some of these programs can be constructive, and valuable enough to keep. For example, instead of discarding welfare, we should institute a system that requires the recipient to either go to school, or work part time, before receiving any subsidized government wage. This would allow the recipient to garner adequate income while enjoying the satisfaction of work, a known confidence builder. By revamping these programs, we can change an injurious policy and into a constructive entity. This task could ultimately free us from our co-dependency while giving agency, and unbiased freedom, to blacks. Hune notes, “paradigms shift as new models emerge to challenge traditional ways of defining problems” (29). If we challenge our problems and racial co-dependency now, a more valuable paradigm will emerge in the future.
This future paradigm will view all people as true equals devoid of Steele’s social contingency. It will stem from a more evolved way of thinking, and encompass acceptance, confidence, and strength. This strength will overcome our co-dependency by replacing it with racial respect. Perhaps, this paradigm will even become King’s dream realized instead of Steele’s dream deferred. “And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every little village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last! Yes, free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last! (Martin Luther King, 4)