2013-05-23T08:24:51-04:00 Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=chris-benson Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Chris Benson Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1338029 2012-03-15T12:29:08-04:00 2012-05-15T05:12:01-04:00

Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-benson/
The problem is that this persistent position taken by Santorum -- a lawyer -- is not just one that puts him at odds with the late president Kennedy, but also with the earliest U.S. presidents, the ones who helped establish the nation by writing the U.S. Constitution. It also puts him at odds with at least one person, whose moving story illustrates why the Framers felt a compelling need to erect what Thomas Jefferson called "a wall of separation" between the government and religion.

This month -- Women's Month -- we are given a chance to consider the powerful human story behind the story of the fight that led ultimately to the Supreme Court's 8-1 ruling in 1948 that provided the framework for the contemporary principle of separation of church and state. It is a story that is beautifully rendered in the Peabody and Emmy Award-winning documentary, "The Lord is Not on Trial Here Today," which airs on PBS stations in coming days and weeks. (Check local listings.) It is a story you might expect to be embraced by politicians who advocate the right of individuals to be free from government interference in their most intimate affairs, including their beliefs.

While the constitutional basis for the "wall of separation" is meticulously unpacked in the documentary, the issue is all the more compelling because of the way we see it play out in this narrative. For, at its heart, this is a mother's story, the story of Vashti McCollum, who in 1945 embarked on a three-year legal odyssey -- marked, she said, by "headlines, headaches and hatred" -- ultimately leading to vindication of her beliefs and, as important as anything else, her fifth-grade son, Jim.

At a time when it seemed few in McCollum's conservative Champaign, Illinois community dared to question the connection between American ideals and patriotism, between patriotism and religion, between religion and Protestant Christianity, in that rush-to-judgment world, McCollum hit the "pause button." Stop for a moment. Think about it. Think about it critically. Organized religious activity in public schools is unconstitutional. And for good reason.

"The constitution says government institutions can't play favorites with religion," notes the film's award-winning writer-producer, Jay Rosenstein. "That's really what the establishment clause says to me: all religions and non-religion have to be treated equally by the government," says Rosenstein, associate professor of journalism and a colleague of mine at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. "It wasn't until someone like Vashti McCollum stood up, went through all this financial hardship, emotional hardship, physical hardship, that that right suddenly got applied to the rest of us."

The "rest of us." Catholics, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, atheists... And that's the key point of it all. In practice, to teach religion is to privilege religion -- to "play favorites," to make a choice. And to choose one religious doctrine -- or religion period -- is to exclude all other beliefs, marginalizing so many other faithful and non-believers in the process. Breaking the American promise of an inclusive and egalitarian society.

For Vashti McCollum, the journey began when Jim, the oldest of her three sons, was belittled and bullied and beaten for opting out of the "released time," the Protestant Christian indoctrination that was common in public schools during the 1940s -- a time when, for many, Christian faith was seen as spiritual fuel powering the war against godless authoritarian regimes.

Vashti McCollum waged her own war -- a legal battle to ban religious teaching in public schools -- demonstrating more fidelity to fundamental American principles than the people who tried to shut her up and shut her down. She lost her suit in Champaign County and then later her appeal in Illinois. But she was not defeated. "I was in it for the kill," enthralls a 92-year-old McCollum in the documentary, pumped up, it seemed, by the sheer memory of it all. "I was obligated to go on," even in the face of hate mail and isolation, often driven, it seemed, by slanted local newspaper coverage.

As she would be told by her second son, Dan (who years later would be elected mayor of Champaign for three terms), "Sometimes our culture picks on the wrong person at the wrong time."

While the eventual 8-1 Supreme Court victory plays out in a taut dramatic presentation here, the documentary is just as significant for its resonance in the contemporary moment -- a time when conservatives increasingly are questioning established principles. People like Rick Santorum. Doubts about the constitutional validity of separation of church and state have been amplified by media coverage of such prominent political stars of the moment, who can hide such ironically un-American views behind a choir boy countenance. Such views indicate "just how little the average American knows about this whole concept," notes Rosenstein, who set out on the documentary project in part to show where the concept came from, "how it became part of our legal lexicon."

All the more compelling, he believes, in light of recent efforts to disseminate conservative dogma -- writ large. In 2010, for example, the Texas Board of Education approved a curriculum that promotes a new take on history and economics as presented in textbooks, questioning the separation of church and state doctrine, questioning evolution, emphasizing the superiority of American capitalism and, incidentally, the positives of Republican ideology. Given that the state of Texas is one of the nation's largest textbook buyers, this move is likely to influence the slant in textbooks distributed nationwide, and across subject matter.

"It's not just religion," Rosenstein cautions. "It's every aspect of difference. It's sexual orientation, it's kids who are gay and lesbian, everything. In a way, I kind of feel that what happened to Jim (McCollum) was, in some ways, the same story that happens to every kid or every family who is different in some way."

Which is why the human story -- the story behind the story with its universal themes -- is so important. When it comes to sorting socially constructed difference in America, everyone has something to add to our understanding, a chapter to write in the narrative, a way to make a difference.

"When we look at the history of this country, and so much of it is built on these Supreme Court cases," Rosenstein notes, "what people don't always realize, and certainly people who study the law tend to overlook, is that behind every one of these cases is a personal story and probably a very deep involved personal story about a person or family who had to go through great hardships and show great courage and have all sorts of negative things happen to them for having the courage to stand up for one of these unpopular ideas," he says. "The constitution," he notes, echoing legal scholars, "is not self-executing."

Vashti McCollum died in 2006 at age 93, considering in the documentary production just what it meant to wipe away the tears of a son who was ostracized, of being force-fed ideas you had no right to question, of being vilified as a "devil" woman and atheist. Thanks to the documentary, her voice once again can be heard in the contemporary discourse on this issue.
Rick Santorum has said that the idea that the church should have no influence in the operation of the state is "absolutely antithetical to the objectives and vision of our country."

On one level it should not be surprising that Santorum has reprised his opposition to such well-settled constitutional questions. After all, what comes off as a principled position is merely another strategic move as Santorum battles Newt Gingrich for support on the religious right in Alabama and Mississippi in this Tuesday's GOP Presidential primary contest -- two states where polls show Santorum is beating Mitt Romney decisively among evangelicals, yet still polling even with Romney generally because Gingrich continues to draw on Santorum's base.

In considering the "objectives and vision" Santorum suggests, we can go back to Thomas Jefferson's "wall of separation between church and state" or George Washington's declaration that "The government of the United States is not in any sense founded on the Christian religion." Or, we simply can reflect on their foresight as illustrated in the story of Vashti McCollum to conclude that the right has it wrong on the "vision" thing.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.869302 2011-06-02T11:44:06-04:00 2011-08-02T05:12:01-04:00

Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-benson/ takedown of Osama bin Laden was as much a surprise to the GOP as it was to al Qaeda. In that heart-stopping moment, the game changed, and the Republicans who have relied on a subtly subversive campaign of Obama "othering" just might have been left without a game plan.

That point seemed apparent right from the start. There was that dizzying shell-game-of-a-spin, which the likes of Rush ("I want the president to fail") Limbaugh attempted to put on the bin Laden kill. If Obama gets any credit, according to this take, it is because he continued the policies of George W. (as in "weapons of mass destruction") Bush. Limbaugh actually thanked God for Obama with a tongue-in-cheek reference to the president's insistence on following through with the successful plan.

Curiously, the same right wing that has been eager to stick Obama with the blame for the financial meltdown that began (and was worsened) on Bush's watch and by his policies, now wanted to give Bush the credit for the PlayStation-perfect black op that was designed, refined and greenlit on Obama's watch. A "mission accomplished" banner dissolved into a Mission: Impossible trailer.

What is at stake here is more than whether one administration or the other deserves the credit. What is at stake is how the accomplishment is interpreted. And that interpretation is about more than mere policy differences. Way more. It's about how effectively we move past socially constructed differences in resolving political differences.

Recent events suggest the Republican lineup still does not get it. Last week, former Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty tweaked Obama on presidential strength in announcing his bid for the Republican presidential nomination. Really, though?

Let's rewind a moment for a quick reality check on strength (as well as leadership, which is the implied value).

Certainly the raid on bin Laden's compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan, was a strong move. But the ramp up to that move says a lot about the president, too. Obama was cool. Way cool. Rat-Pack cool. Could have been playing the Sahara on the Vegas strip back in the day. Instead, Obama played golf while the plan he authorized was unfolding. Delivered a commencement address. Watched a space shuttle launch. Took swipes at Donald Trump at the Correspondents' Dinner. Black tie cool.

All the while, knowing what no one in the press corps or the Republican opposition or anyone outside that iconic Situation Room moment in political Washington possibly could have known. This is the confidence of a person who is plugged into something much deeper, dedicated to something much higher than himself. That is the strength of leadership. Leadership in assessing national interest. Leadership in taking risks to meet that interest. And maintaining enough street cred to merit a shout out from the sometimes critical Bill Maher, who called Obama "one efficient, steely-nerved, multi-tasking, Black Ninja gangsta president."

Indeed, after the successful raid was confirmed, the "steely-nerved" Obama looked straight into the camera and, without so much as a blink, but with an ever-so-slight dramatic "read my lips" pause, proceeded to spoon feed the Monday morning headline to the hungry media: "Justice has been done."

It was a moment dripping in irony for those who could read the subtext, in full context. For, in a sense, justice also had been done with respect to the president's image. He was not the beast constructed from the discarded fragments of a trash heap of historical racism. He was the president with the stature and the wherewithal and the strength to withstand the onslaught of the ridiculous right -- the "deathers" who might insist on a "long-form" death certificate to prove bin Laden had, in fact, been killed.

And even as Donald Trump declared he would not declare his campaign for the presidency after fouling the waters with Obama citizenship rants, Newt Gingrich grabbed the "other" baton, dubbing Obama the "food stamp president" and (with a sort of rhetorical wave of the bloody shirt and the Confederate flag) declaring to Georgia Republicans that the 2012 presidential election would be the most important since before the Civil War. And he's not just whistling "Dixie." Scapegoating is the last desperate act of desperate politicians across the country, who readily play to the lowest common denominator of fear and perceived threat they cannot resolve with reason and sound policy.

The question now is whether Republicans can move on past the divisive politics that have ripped at our social fabric. A related question is whether so much damage has been done already that unchecked coded messages will serve merely as reminders that Obama is not "one of us," and will continue to trigger the racially-charged Obama blowback that arguably has characterized the rabid right for the last two and a half years.

Without question, media vigilance increasingly will be vital in keeping the public discourse honest.

It is gratifying to see journalists stepping up. CBS News chief Washington correspondent Bob Schieffer characterized Trump's tactics as "an ugly strain of racism..." The New York Times editorialized about the racial tones of the continued fringe attacks on Obama's legitimacy. But recognizing the race connection is only the beginning. Contextualizing it is an imperative second step in helping people fully appreciate this dynamic, providing an understanding of racism in the framework of power.

Curiously, people who have questioned Obama's leadership might want to take a long hard look at their own lack of leadership in elevating the public discourse. Clearly, the U.S. economy and a world of change on the horizon -- as the Arab spring moves into the heat of summer -- will produce plenty of issues for intellectually honest debate.

Hopefully, this Memorial Day weekend has provided a good chance for everyone to reflect on where we've been, in order to take a clear-eyed look at the road (and, yes, the campaign trail) ahead. What has the zero sum game of political division really cost us? And what has it gained us? How might we all profit instead from new rules of civic and civil engagement?
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.860270 2011-05-11T11:56:21-04:00 2011-07-11T05:12:01-04:00

Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-benson/
This Mother's Day, we were given a chance to consider people and courage and outcome. The powerful human story behind the story of the fight that led ultimately to the Supreme Court's 8-1 ruling in 1948 that provided the framework for the contemporary principle of separation of church and state.

It is a story that is beautifully rendered in the Peabody and Emmy Award-winning documentary, The Lord is Not on Trial Here Today, which aired Sunday on WTTW, Channel 11 (hopefully, again one day soon in Chicago) and will be seen on other PBS stations in coming days and weeks.

While the constitutional basis for the "wall of separation" is meticulously unpacked here, the issue is all the more compelling because of the way we see it play out in this narrative. For, at its heart, this is a mother's story, the story of Vashti McCollum, who in 1945 embarked on a three-year legal odyssey -- marked, she said, by "headlines, headaches and hatred" -- ultimately leading to vindication of her beliefs and, as important as anything else, her fifth-grade son, Jim. Rack focus: the human factor.

Knowing this ahead of time (I had attended a preview in March), I decided it would be good to share the experience of viewing the documentary with my own mother (it was Mother's Day, after all). I figured she would find some commonality with the heroic Vashti McCollum. Everymother. "She was," my mother proudly would say later, "determined."

Indeed. At a time when it seemed few in McCollum's conservative Champaign, Illinois community dared to question the connection between American ideals and patriotism, between patriotism and religion, between religion and Protestant Christianity, in that rush-to-judgment world, McCollum hit the "pause button." Stop for a moment. Think about it. Think about it critically. Organized religious activity in public schools is unconstitutional. For good reason.

"The constitution says government institutions can't play favorites with religion," notes the film's award-winning writer-producer, Jay Rosenstein. "That's really what the establishment clause says to me: all religions and non-religion have to be treated equally by the government," says Rosenstein, associate professor of journalism and a colleague of mine at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. "It wasn't until someone like Vashti McCollum stood up, went through all this financial hardship, emotional hardship, physical hardship, that that right suddenly got applied to the rest of us."

The "rest of us." Catholics, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, atheists... And that's the key point of it all. In practice, to teach religion is to privilege religion -- to "play favorites," to make a choice. And to choose one religious doctrine -- or religion period -- is to exclude all other beliefs, marginalizing so many other faithful and non-believers in the process. Breaking the American promise of an inclusive and egalitarian society.

For Vashti McCollum, the journey began when Jim, the oldest of her three sons, was belittled and bullied and beaten for opting out of the "released time," the Protestant Christian indoctrination that was common in public schools during the 1940s -- a time when, for many, Christian faith was seen as spiritual fuel powering the war against godless authoritarian regimes.

Vashti McCollum waged her own war -- a legal battle to ban religious teaching in public schools -- demonstrating more fidelity to fundamental American principles than the people who tried to shut her up and shut her down. She lost her suit in Champaign County and then later her appeal in Illinois. But she was not defeated. "I was in it for the kill," enthralls a 92-year-old McCollum in the documentary, pumped up, it seemed, by the sheer memory of it all. "I was obligated to go on," even in the face of hate mail and isolation, often driven, it seemed, by slanted local newspaper coverage.

As she would be told by her second son, Dan (who years later would be elected mayor of Champaign for three terms), "Sometimes our culture picks on the wrong person at the wrong time."

While the eventual 8-1 Supreme Court victory plays out in a taut dramatic presentation here, the documentary is just as significant for its resonance in the contemporary moment -- a time when conservatives increasingly are questioning established principles. Doubts about the constitutional validity of separation of church and state have been amplified by media coverage of such prominent political pop stars of the moment as last year's unsuccessful Delaware Republican/Tea Party Senate candidate Christine ("I'm not a witch") O'Donnell. Such views indicate "just how little the average American knows about this whole concept," notes Rosenstein, who set out on the documentary project in part to show where the concept came from, "how it became part of our legal lexicon."

All the more compelling, he believes, in light of recent efforts to disseminate conservative dogma -- writ large. Last year, for example, the Texas Board of Education approved a curriculum that promotes a new take on history and economics as presented in textbooks, questioning the separation of church and state doctrine, questioning evolution, emphasizing the superiority of American capitalism and, incidentally, the positives of Republican ideology. Given that the state of Texas is one of the nation's largest textbook buyers, this move is likely to influence the slant in textbooks distributed nationwide, and across subject matter.

"It's not just religion," Rosenstein cautions. "It's every aspect of difference. It's sexual orientation, it's kids who are gay and lesbian, everything. In a way, I kind of feel that what happened to Jim (McCollum) was, in some ways, the same story that happens to every kid or every family who is different in some way."

Which is why the human story -- the story behind the story with its universal themes -- is so important. When it comes to sorting socially constructed difference in America, everyone has something to add to our understanding, a chapter to write in the narrative, a way to make a difference.

"When we look at the history of this country, and so much of it is built on these Supreme Court cases," Rosenstein notes, "what people don't always realize, and certainly people who study the law tend to overlook, is that behind every one of these cases is a personal story and probably a very deep involved personal story about a person or family who had to go through great hardships and show great courage and have all sorts of negative things happen to them for having the courage to stand up for one of these unpopular ideas," he says. "The constitution," he notes, echoing legal scholars, "is not self-executing."

For my mom's part -- after considering the challenges met by Vashti McCollum, who died in 2006 at age 93, considering, as a mother would, just what it meant to wipe away the tears of a son who was ostracized, of being force-fed ideas you had no right to question, of being vilified as a "devil" woman and atheist -- for my mom, the choice would have been clear had she been forced to make a choice. A mother's choice.

"I would have kicked ass."

Amen.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.853045 2011-04-25T17:31:39-04:00 2011-06-25T05:12:01-04:00

Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-benson/
Just connect up the dots. Trump resurrects an issue we all thought had been put to rest. The media -- particularly television news and feature programs -- provide a national platform for the discourse. The Arizona legislature takes its immigrant profiling campaign national, passing a bill that in effect set up a presidential checkpoint -- requiring national candidates to (your papers, please) prove U.S. citizenship. And then there's that photoshopped Barack Obama nuzzled in a family of Chimps, circulated by Orange County Republican Marilyn Davenport, reportedly with her personal note: "Now you know why no birth certificate."

Davenport says, in effect, hey, can't you take a joke? But what do you have to get in order to get that joke? Republican Governor Jan Brewer vetoed the Arizona bill. But what about the message of legitimacy that is sent to the public when elected officials put their stamp of approval on such regressive policies? And, with respect to that media platform for Trump, sure, questions are being raised by journalists. But what about the thrust of those questions?
"Is Trump really running for president?" "Will his candidacy, coupled with a sharp rise in the polls, hurt Republicans?" "Is he really serious about this 'birther' issue?" "Is he merely promoting his television show Celebrity Apprentice?"

Excuse me, but, what? Practically every arrow in the quiver and still missing the target. So, here's one for the longbow: "What are the racial implications of the birther issue?"

The media set the agenda for public discourse. High on that agenda in recent weeks has been the Trump rant. Merely taking up this topic -- repeatedly -- lends a sense of legitimacy to it. As a result, the public walks away believing that questions about Obama's birth (and, by extension, his constitutional qualification to serve as president) are reasonable ones to raise. The question becomes the answer and that sense of "reasonableness" causes people to pause for a moment and to begin to associate that issue of Obama legitimacy with so much else.

Even showing a copy of Obama's certificate of live birth (as George Stephanopoulos did in an otherwise effective effort to make a point with Minnesota Republican Michele Bachmann on Good Morning America), even that serves to validate the issue. Especially when the door is left open for more of this nonsense by Bachmann's response. On air, confronted by the document, the certificate of live birth. "Well, that settles it," she demurred. But, wait, there's more. A Mitch McConnell throwback-of-a-coda. "I take the president at his word."

Huh? Why take the president at his word, Congressperson, when we have the words of the official document -- words that were signed and certified long before the president even could utter a word? Obviously, because that response takes the certificate back off the table and leaves room for later attacks on the president's word. Obama's veracity once again is the issue.

If the media are going to engage matters of public concern, they have a responsibility to do more than merely provide a grandstand for fringe issues and pop star politicians. This past week, some -- including Howie Kurtz of The Washington Post -- began to ask serious questions about Trump's business record. That certainly is a good thing, a responsible journalism thing, assuming Trump is serious about a presidential run.

Whether or not he's serious about a later campaign, though, there still is the enduring impact of what is happening right now. The media have a duty to clarify that, to contextualize it.

Context is key here. Arguably what Trump (and the chorus behind him) is doing when he challenges the legitimacy of Obama's birth in Hawaii is singing familiar strains of a chart-topping tune in American politics, the politics of difference -- identifying people by race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, religion and on and on, then using that difference to justify the assignment of rank, privilege and power according to a white, male, hetero-normative, Christian ideal. Anything that is different from the ideal is degraded -- assigned a lower rank, marginalized.

Clearly, Obama is different from every U.S. president before him. Everyone -- even Obama's self-congratulatory liberal community of support -- sees the difference. What we make of it, though, is what makes the difference. Marilyn Davenport made a monkey of it in a flashback of nineteenth century pseudo-science and minstrelsy that once aimed at dehumanizing and devaluing African American life.

Trump puts a more contemporary spin on it. In early birth certificate comments on The View, Trump -- rejecting the legitimacy of Obama's certificate of live birth--suggested that Obama is hiding his real birth certificate because it not only would reveal he was not born in America, but that he also is (OMG!) a Muslim. (I'm sorry, but, someone please show me where the religion line is on my Illinois birth certificate, because, I mean, like...) The message in this dog-whistle pitch to the rabid right is not just that Obama is not American, but that he is unAmerican.

Last year, long before Trump emerged to give this birther issue an afterlife, Newsweek's Jonathan Alter wrote about "associational distortion," the tendency of people who don't like Obama to link him to negatives. These days, Muslims unfairly are seen in a negative light. At best, perpetual foreigners. At worst, terrorists.

Therefore, people justify their disapproval of Obama, who is associated with Islam via "birther" logic -- a pretzel-twist-of-an-idea that is vocalized and then amplified by the persistent media coverage of the issue. And that volume is jacked up so loud that people can't even hear the voices of reason. Or, they choose not to.

Poll results show a majority of Republicans now believe the myth. Perhaps, because many of them want to believe it. Social scientists call it "confirmation bias," that selective perception that causes people to pick up only that information reinforcing the conclusions they already have reached. Race is at the center of it.

Psychologist Spee Kosloff has studied political smears and has found that people are more likely to believe false statements about politicians who are perceived to be different from them. Race and political ideology are among the most significant differences, which helps to explain why people who focused on their own identity as white and Republican tended to believe in negatives associated with Obama at much higher rates than others who didn't focus on the differences.

Sharon Begley cited Kosloff's work in her August 31, 2010, Newsweek essay on the determined belief that Obama is a Muslim, and that Islam is bad.

Clearly, we need to see more of this kind of thoughtful, probative work by journalists on this issue. Otherwise, these writers -- legacy and new media alike -- are just getting played. "Trumped" in the zero sum game of racial politics. A game nobody wins.

So, let's just lay it all out there. Play the hand. Call a spade a spade. The race card already has hit the table. Trump's insistent unfounded claims regarding President Barack Obama's birth amount to a mere refinement of the not-so-long-ago race-based politics of the South. Increasingly, it seems, he is running not so much for presidency as for primacy. Top of the heap in the politics of division. "Birther" of a nation.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.810131 2011-01-17T23:14:12-05:00 2011-05-25T18:25:24-04:00

Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-benson/ "One man come in the name of love; one man come and go." --U2

Whenever people come together in Chicago to commemorate the birth and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. as they did today, there invariably is the reflection on Dr. King's Chicago campaign in 1966--when he hit the brick wall of resistance by a powerful mayor and a white-hot community in what King would dub the most segregated city in the North.
What is missed in such remembrances--even as people recognize that King's Chicago impact did not end in 1966--is that the story did not really begin there either. It is in reflecting on that starting point that we truly can appreciate the take-away value of today's commemoration.
On April 13, 1956, Dr. King delivered a keynote address at Rockefeller Chapel on the University of Chicago campus in Hyde Park. The Montgomery Bus Boycott was in the fifth month of what would become a successful year-long campaign. King had been invited by the Unitarian Church of Chicago, located in Hyde Park, to talk about hope and change and progress--themes that arguably were as important on Chicago's South Side back then as they were in the nation's Deep South.

While the national gaze was directed toward Montgomery and a mass movement taking its first steps, Chicago was undergoing its own difficult transition. At this point, Hyde Park was Ground Zero.

Only seven years before, the Supreme Court had struck down the restrictive covenants that had prevented many African Americans from buying homes in Hyde Park, and a number of other communities in Chicago and in other cities. Community leaders hoped to manage Hyde Park's transition and avoid the kind of re-segregation experienced in nearby Woodlawn and the racial strife that had engulfed other places like Cicero and the Trumbull Park Homes, where riots greeted new African American residents.

Historian and author Timuel Black remembers all that. In fact, at 92, he's got a long memory of significant points in Chicago's transformation and the movement that led to it. Black helped set in motion the process that brought King to Chicago--that first time, some 55 years ago.
A doctoral candidate in sociology and anthropology at the University of Chicago, Black had been so impressed with King's presence on television that he traveled all the way to Montgomery to hear him speak at the tiny Dexter Avenue Baptist Church.

"I just wanted to be down there," recalls Black, an Alabama native who stood outside the overcrowded church that day listening to King on the loudspeakers that had been set up. He returned to Chicago with a new determination--to have King visit his city, to inspire it.
Black talked with other members of the Unitarian Church who were moved not only by King's efforts, but also by the realization that so many other churches were denying the 27-year-old minister the opportunity to speak at that time. It was decided that King would visit Chicago and speak at Rockefeller Chapel--the only nearby venue large enough to hold the huge crowd everyone expected.

Others recall that moment, too. In his book, In Between: Memoir of an Integration Baby, Mark Morrison-Reed, a Unitarian Universalist minister, writes about the hush that fell on some two thousand attendees in Rockefeller Chapel as Dr. King took the podium. He recalls the reverence King was paid as he spoke of the experience of the struggle for social justice in Montgomery; of using non-violence as a weapon in the fight against violent oppression; and of using the pulpit and the intellect in deconstructing the religious and cultural justifications for the continued oppression of African Americans.

On that day in that place, King shared a vision of a better way. As much as anything else, he spoke of unity, Black recalls, unity in a community that was struggling against itself to overcome the limitations of its own segregated past--to move forward in embracing the kind of change that would bear fruit for years to come.

"He became the articulator of what I had felt," notes Black, who had seen the aftermath of the worst of Nazi atrocities when he helped liberate Buchenwald while serving in the Army during World War II. "I believed that what I saw in Germany could happen anywhere. And I didn't want to see it happen anywhere, " Black notes. "And he eloquently articulated my feelings. And so I immediately became active in his part of the movement."

Others did, too. During that long-ago visit, Dr. King raised money for the Montgomery struggle from North Shore donors. And members of the Unitarian Church of Chicago traveled to Montgomery to take part in the effort there.

Whether you run, walk or crawl, Morrison-Reed recalls King saying back at Rockefeller Chapel, "the most important thing is that you must keep moving."

Hyde Park with its tradition of religious, philanthropic, intellectual and independent political leadership, already was on the road to solving its own problems in adjusting to change. But Black believes that journey was aided by Dr. King's visit. With Dr. King's speech, Black asserts, a seed was planted in a community he sees as a "nurturing ground" for the kind of activism that eventually would lead to the formation of a model of residential diversity and the home of Harold Washington, the first African American mayor of Chicago, Carol Moseley Braun, the first African American U.S. Senator and, of course, Barack Obama, the first African American President of the United States.

"King created a feeling of unity," recalls Black. "He stood for unification, he stood for ideas of social justice, peace on earth, goodwill toward all people," he says of the man he once called "Doc," the man who once called him "Brother Black".

That enduring message of unity--of unity as the foundation for progress--is one that is so vital in this contemporary moment. "That one has to believe that change can, will come and work to make that happen," Black offers. "And change is a good thing and a necessary thing."]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.807030 2011-01-10T17:07:16-05:00 2011-05-25T18:25:24-04:00

Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-benson/ The following is an open letter to students enrolled in my Hate Crimes course during the fall semester, 2010.

10 January 2011

Dear Students:

Thank you for the notes and comments I have received since our final class meeting last semester. Interestingly, among the many good wishes and kind words of appreciation I have received, there also is the question raised by some: Where do we go from here? The clear implication is that we embarked on an amazing journey during the fall term and many people--recognizing that the challenge has been set but not met--want that journey to continue.

As I watched the President and Mrs. Obama lead the nation today in a moment of silence in honor of the 6 people killed and the 14 wounded in this weekend's shooting rampage in Tucson, I was struck by the recognition that this would be the perfect time to address the question, the challenge you have posed. That is partly because our class has advanced from the end to the beginning. By that I mean more than the end and beginning of calendar years and school terms, but the end of old attitudes and beliefs, the beginning of a new critical framework. It is a critical framework that will serve you well at this time, as we move from a moment of silence to a moment of engagement.

Before the events of this weekend, I intended to frame this letter around themes that emerged from Thomas Paine's Common Sense, which was published 135 years ago on this date. Among the themes resonating from that pamphlet, which launched a popular revolution in thinking, a new way of seeing the world, was the notion that interdependence is at the foundation of independence. The rights of the many are tied inextricably to our ability to protect the rights of the few. Equal rights. Equal protection.

As I said in parting at the end of last semester, you are the next generation of leadership. Part of that responsibility of that leadership will be to help people develop a new appreciation of the value of difference. This can be a daunting realization, if you allow it to be. Don't allow it be that way. After all, we now have a clear view of the reality we face, which is why we recognize that the "lone wolf" media narrative of the dysfunctional individual shooter in Tucson will not go far enough in helping us understand the carnage at Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords' "Congress on the Corner" event January 8. The debate over whether angry political rhetoric is to blame also doesn't go far enough. In both cases, people will become distracted from the real meaning of this latest act of violence--violence, which has its roots in the construction of difference in America.

We see now that the problem of hate crime--ethno-violence--is about bias more than hate and about power more than bias. Clearly, this is much larger than the isolated problems caused by pathological individuals. Much larger than the problem the media have framed for us. Much larger than the criminal justice system alone is equipped to handle, given its emphasis on individual behavior (retribution, rehabilitation, deterrence).

The key to success is in recognizing first the systemic problems we are facing, in rethinking how we have come to see difference based on race, gender, sexuality, ethnicity and all the other categories we construct in our society in order to value and devalue, to include and to exclude, to empower and to marginalize.

Will we continue to establish and maintain difference in oppositional terms (where good can only be good, if it is compared to something defined as bad; where smart can only be smart if compared to something stupid; where worthy can only be so, if compared to something unworthy; where what is American is clarified by what is not American)? Do we continue to take this social construct and use it to justify the allocation of rank, privilege and power? Do we acquiesce in the enforcement of that construct and assignment through perpetuation of entertainment stereotypes, news media representation and religious doctrine, as well as through education, law and family values? Do we continue, as a result of all this, to provide a justification for marginalizing groups in our society and enforcing that marginalization--policing the borders of our social interaction--through violence? Violent enforcement that begins with bullying on schoolyard playgrounds and ends with bullets in a strip mall parking lot.

Or, do we instead, dare to be different ourselves? Journalist Thomas Paine initiated a popular discussion of revolutionary new ideas. Physicist Albert Einstein is reported to have said that we cannot begin to solve the problems of the world with the same mindset that created these problems. The spiritualist Wayne Dyer offers that, when we change the way we look at the world, the world itself changes. Consider all the ways you now see the world differently. Consider the critical thinking skills you have honed throughout your college experience and especially in our time together. Consider how we might show people that change doesn't have to play out in a Zero Sum Game--where the gain of one comes only at the expense of another. Consider all the ways you might help others change the way they see the world; all the ways the world might change as a result.

It starts with asking questions--questions of yourself and of others. Small things, really. Small things with huge impact. "Why is that joke funny?" "What do you mean when you say, 'That's so ghetto?'" "Or, when you say, 'That's so gay?'" "Take back our country, from whom; from what?" What about media word play? Why do the media resort to use of inaccurate and inflammatory terms, like "reverse discrimination" or "Ground Zero" mosque? What about the messages of political leaders who incite more than they inspire?

The greatest achievement of our time together during the fall term arguably is your ability to raise these kinds of questions, armed with the vocabulary to help craft the answers. The greatest challenge certainly is to continue doing so and to encourage others to engage in the process. If you do nothing more than this, you will be doing a great deal, for you will begin chipping away, breaking through the border fences, deconstructing a systemic, structural problem that is only limiting our national progress. And you can start the process by helping people recognize that the analysis of the tragedy in Tucson should not focus only on the meaning of Sarah Palin's use of violent symbolism (the crosshairs to "target" political opponents), and coded language ("don't retreat, reload"). The analysis must include a consideration of the reasons people have come to believe that it is socially acceptable to visualize certain groups in the sights of those crosshairs--the groups and the elected officials who have advocated on behalf of equal treatment of these groups.

Some of you already have told me you want to do more--in law and journalism and social work and education and counseling. Certainly, there is something for everyone to do. Even if your chosen profession is not directly on point, you will be able to volunteer, or even to lend financial support to causes that make a difference.

One way or the other, we all are doing something, even when we do nothing. Everyone is responsible for what we have become and what we are destined to become. You have something extraordinary to share in the process. Don't waste it. Don't lose this chance to see a new world and to make that vision, that world, a reality. Don't miss this moment of engagement, this point where we finally can help people connect up the dots of awareness that can link us all to a higher consciousness, the highest social good. That point where coexistence is the norm because interdependence is recognized; where interdependence is recognized because difference is valued; where difference is valued because this enlightened view has become merely a matter of common sense.
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Chris Benson http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-benson/ If she still were alive, Mother Mobley would remind us with a keen sense of irony--as well as historical context--that "Beckapalooza" tramples more than one solemn memory. She also would urge us to recognize the importance of historical memory. In appreciating the social and legal progress we have made. In making sure we don't repeat past mistakes.

As a number of people already have recognized, Saturday, August 28, marks the 47th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech, delivered from the site where Beck's event will take place. What people have not recognized is that Dr. King's 1963 speech itself fell on another significant anniversary--the August 28, 1955 lynching of Mother Mobley's son, Emmett Till, who was accused of whistling at a white woman on his visit with relatives in the Mississippi Delta.

That hate crime and its aftermath would help to galvanize the fledgling Civil Rights movement. A little more than two months after the acquittal of Emmett's killers by an all-white jury, Rosa Parks would take her stand by keeping her seat on that bus in Montgomery. She later would tell Mother Mobley that she was thinking of Emmett.

So, what should we be thinking now, on the 55th anniversary of Emmett's death?

The answer comes partly in how I suspect Mamie Till-Mobley would react.

Eight years ago, I visited her on the anniversary of Emmett's lynching. I brought flowers because, well, it just seemed like the right thing to do. She was despondent and told me that people always called her on the 28th of August. They would say, "You know what day this is, don't you?" And she looked at me deeply with eyes that long ago had run out of tears and said, "I don't need reminders. I can never forget this day."

She would want us to remember, too. Not just her son's murder. But its meaning.

That is why Mother Mobley, a Chicago teacher who mined her grief for a mission in life, would see Saturday's point of conversrion as a teachable moment. She understood the politics of difference, the politics of place. As an African American whose family had barely escaped Southern atrocities, she recognized the potential pushback when you stepped out of place. Like whistling at a white woman. Or living in the White House.

So she would see parallels between then and now. She could interpret the code, the messages of hate and racism that get embedded in the vocabulary of patriotism. Years ago, she tuned into what we all now recognize, in the parlance of Politico.com, as "dog whistle politics," that perfect pitch of the rabid right.

That is why slogans like "restoring honor" and "take back our country" today would sound so much to her like preserving "a way of life" once did in the euphemism of resistance--the reign of terror--in the 1950s South. Beck says the timing is purely coincidental. He says his event is not political, even though Sarah Palin is a keynoter. But long before the first speaker, the message already has been delivered by headlining Beck and Palin, whose public images are built on divisiveness. So, the event itself is the message. And the title pretty much confirms it all, when you know how to read between the lines.

After all, restoring honor is exactly what Emmett's racist killers thought they were doing by forcing him back into his place--beating and torturing him to death.

In an interview with Tavis Smiley, the late Coretta Scott King said Dr. King and many people in Montgomery during the year-long 1956 bus boycott were thinking of Emmett Till. Dr. King and the 1963 March on Washington organizers also were mindful of the significance of the August 28 date of their massive demonstration.

There is another connection. Two years ago, on August 28, Barack Obama delivered his acceptance speech, becoming the first African American in history to receive a major party nomination for the presidency.

Remembering is about more than sorting our emotions. It's about understanding the powerful significance of these important moments, appreciating the journey we have taken to develop a more inclusive society. The slaying of Emmett Till--as horribly tragic as it was--moved people forward with a new resolve to dismantle a system of violently enforced exclusion. American Apartheid. Dr. King's "Dream" speech, Obama's acceptance speech shared the vision of a better place out on the horizon. And Obama's acceptance speech also was crafted in the language of unity.

The common theme that ties these moments together is forward movement. Of all the ways one might describe Beckapalooza, Mamie Till-Mobley likely would opt for "backward."]]>