Americans need to find some way to debate Black nationalism

...other than just calling each other racist

Most people are at least vaguely aware of the controversy initiated by NFL Quarterback Colin Kaepernick, back in 2016, when he began to kneel during the singing of the U.S. national anthem in order to protest racial inequality in America. Far fewer people are aware of how the NFL resolved the conflict, which included a commitment to playing two national anthems before key games (including the Superbowl): the “Black national anthem” Lift Every Voice and Sing, and the regular national anthem The Star-Spangled Banner (which I suppose is now in danger of becoming the “white national anthem”).

From a Canadian perspective, it’s not difficult to see why this might make some Americans nervous. This country also has a history of playing politics with national anthems. Back in 1980, with a referendum on secession about to be held in Quebec, playing “God Save the Queen” wasn’t exactly the clarion call to national unity that the country required, so Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau made the not-unreasonable decision to pass legislation changing the anthem to “O Canada” and making it official for the entire country. (This was a somewhat canny move, since “O Canada” was originally a French song, commissioned to celebrate St. Jean Baptiste day.) Imagine instead if he had chosen to declare two national anthems, one for Quebec and one for Canada – both of which would have to be played at the beginning of every hockey game. How many people would have thought this was a great idea? The answer is easy. Quebec separatists would have thought it was a great idea. Absolutely no one else would have.

If you did a survey of Americans, most would probably also say that it’s a terrible idea to play two national anthems before football games. (Football, incidentally, is by far the most integrated sport in America). Why? Because it’s divisive. It defeats the entire purpose of having a national anthem. But of course Americans cannot express this opinion publicly without being labeled racist, as Megyn Kelly discovered. Naturally once Kelly was attacked, a bunch of Republicans leaped to her defence, which then made her position politically toxic for all Democrats. (Meanwhile a number of Democratic politicians, following that party’s infallible instinct for adopting politically suicidal positions, chimed in not just to defend the practice of racially-segregated anthems, but to castigate white fans for not standing during the “Black national anthem.” And people wonder why Democrats have trouble getting Americans to vote for them…)

In any case, it’s not difficult to see the norm that has emerged here. On the liberal/progressive side, any opposition to Black nationalism gets coded as racist. (I’m assuming there is no need to defend here the claim that wanting to have your own national anthem is a nationalist sentiment.) Many Americans, however, find this extremely confusing, because as far as they can tell, Black nationalism just is racist. That’s because, like most minority nationalists, Black nationalists are opposed to integration, while seeking to promote heightened racial solidarity (so they do things like guilt-trip Black athletes for attending “white colleges”). Cultivating in-group solidarity practically always generates out-group antagonism, and so unless people bend over backwards to avoid it, nationalism has an unpleasantly exclusionary quality.

To the extent that there is any debate over Black nationalism in America, it therefore consists of a bunch of people calling each other racist. If you support it, you’re a racist, but if you criticize it, you’re also a racist. What this translates into in practice is that sensible Americans don’t want to say anything on the subject, because they don’t want to be called racist. In particular, it means that all educated white Americans to the left of Mitt Romney know enough to keep their mouths shut. (This is why white Americans get so excited when someone like John McWhorter, or now Coleman Hughes, comes along, who is willing to defend publicly the position that most liberal white Americans privately hold.)

Canadians have had a somewhat easier time thinking about Quebec nationalism, because sovereignists organized political parties, adopted their own flag, commissioned their own national anthem, and generally showed no interest in getting along with English Canadians. (In 1977, after the Parti Québécois was elected in Quebec, my parents were told that I was no longer welcome at the French summer camp that I had previously attended, because even though I was enrolled in a French Catholic school my parents were not actually francophone.) Nationalists also regularly produced manifestos and issued lists of demands, so that everyone could see quite clearly what their goals were. At the same time, there were a large numbers of French Canadians who were clearly and unambiguously opposed to the nationalist project, at least in its separatist form, and so it was obvious to everyone that Quebecers as a group disagreed with one another about how to deal with the problems arising from their status as an internal minority.

Americans, by contrast, have had difficulty grasping the fact that African-Americans are also deeply divided over the basic “integration vs. separation” question. The central feature of nationalist movements is that they are committed to preserving a particular group’s distinctive culture and identity. This is typically achieved by forming institutions in which that group constitutes a majority, ideally a state, but also an education system, economic and cultural institutions, media channels, etc. As a result, nationalism on the part of minority groups within states often takes a secessionist form, but in cases where an independent state cannot be achieved, nationalists often settle for a type of “internal secession,” where they seek to create parallel institutions within the society that insulate them from majority culture and norms. This is accompanied by resistance to integration, on the grounds that it undermines the integrity of the group.

Seen this way, it is not difficult to discern widespread nationalist sentiment among African-Americans. But several factors conspire to obscure the underlying tension between nationalist and integrationist segments of that community. First, ever since the collapse of Black secessionism, the nationalist impulse has had no clear political project to rally around (thus no manifestos or 10-point plans). Second, America’s majoritarian electoral system (and the logic of Duverger’s law) practically forces African-Americans to support the Democratic party, as a result of which internal disagreements seldom find overt political expression. And finally, the overwhelming support for nationalist ideas among African-American intellectuals means that the integrationist wing remains largely a silent majority within that community.

There is also, however, just a weird obliviousness about it. For example, I recently picked up Mark Whitaker’s book, Saying it Loud, whose subtitle promises an account of 1966 – The Year Black Power Challenged the Civil Rights Movement. But while Whitaker provides a detailed account of the events and the personalities involved, he says practically nothing about the ideas that were at stake. For example, he gives an extremely detailed description of events leading up to the 1962 debate at Howard University between Bayard Rustin and Malcolm X on the subject of “Integration vs. Separation,” but provides no account of what either man actually said on the subject (focusing instead on a few of Malcolm’s rhetorical flourishes, and their effect on the crowd). The Black Power movement is consistently portrayed as simply more radical than the civil rights movement. The fact that they also espoused different goals is consistently obscured.

White liberals often find themselves supporting the demands of Black nationalists, in part because they do not have a clear understanding of the difference between these political tendencies. They often seek to prove how progressive they are on racial issues by finding the angriest Black person they can and accommodating themselves to that person’s demands. Recent emphasis on “allyship” has had a similar effect. Because it offers no advice on dealing with cases in which members of oppressed groups make contradictory demands, in practice “being an ally” usually means deferring to the most extreme view. In the context of race, this entails accepting the views of nationalists. (This strikes me as the most plausible explanation for the NFL’s anthem decision – it stems from a desire to placate the angriest rather than cater to the median Black American.)

The problem is that nationalists have a tendency to engage in “cakism,” typically by downplaying the compromises that are involved in pursuing their goals. (In the case of Quebec, this tendency was nicely summed up the comedian Yvon Deschamps, who pointed out that what they really wanted was “an independent Quebec in a strong and united Canada.”) There is a temptation to promise “separation whenever it is in our interest, combined with integration whenever that is in our interest.” But this can easily backfire, generating marginalization (i.e. separation when it’s not in our interest) and the tyranny of the majority (i.e. integration when it’s not in our interest). The only way to figure out, in advance, where one is likely to wind up is through vigorous debate with opponents of the project.

This is why Americans need to figure out a better way to talk about these issues.

While we’re on the subject of nationalism and the African-American experience, allow me to insert a quick promo for my stepmother’s art exhibition (see here, and here, and here) – one of her pieces shown above – currently at the Art Gallery of Ontario.