T’Challa and Killmonger Aren’t Martin and Malcolm No Matter How Much We Want Them To Be

T’Challa and Killmonger have been compared to Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. This is an unsurprising lens to view the relationship between black leaders given their distinctive philosophies and hold on the popular imagination. The idea is that both have noble goals, but that while one goes about his in a gracious, loving way, the other is a violent radical.

But I’m convinced this analogy is not particularly helpful for two reasons. First, it reduces them into caricatures bearing little resemblance to who they were in real life. Today, Dr. King has a national holiday and is a revered figure. But “gracious” and “loving” were not terms often used to describe him during the Civil Rights movement. Gallup never showed him with more than a 45% favorable rating in his lifetime. In fact, by 1966, 63% of Americans viewed him unfavorably. He was apt to be called a demagogue and a Communist. He died leading a poor people’s campaign that could get him accused of class warfare.

This shouldn’t be surprising. He was unpopular to so many precisely because he challenged so many popular attitudes about black people. In his own way, he was a radical. He admitted as much himself. The purpose of his demonstrations in Birmingham, he wrote in a famous letter from its jail, was “to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue [of racism].” He had no patience for self-described moderates. In fact, he had “almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.”

Malcolm X is usually remembered as an angry racist. And understandably so. He referred to whites as “white devils.” He argued that blacks should not identify with America because it was a “white man’s country,” and asserted that identifying as Americans was akin to “the ex-slave who is now trying to get himself integrated into the slave master’s house.” When a white college girl asked how she could help, he turned her away.

There was more to the story. In 1964, he went on his obligatory once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to Mecca. What happened there changed his views. He had “eaten from the same plate, drank from the same glass, slept on the same bed or rug, while praying to the same God…fellow Muslims whose skin was the whitest of white, whose eyes were the bluest of blue, and whose hair was the blondest of blond…” He went onto say that this “was the first time in my life that I didn’t see them as ‘white men.’” So before he died, Malcolm X had renounced the views that comparisons to him draw upon.

If we really wanted to compare Killmonger and T’Challa to Malcolm X and Dr. King, we would need to compare them to Malcolm X and Dr. King as they actually were, not necessarily as we now remember them.

Second, even if we caricature the two, I don’t see how either Killmonger or T’Challa resembles them. If we insist on remembering Dr. King only as a kindhearted man who preached love, then neither Killmonger nor T’Challa fits the bill. Killmonger for obvious reasons; he’s a murderer who’s willing to cause a civil war and use Wakanda’s military to cause destruction around the world. T’Challa for his part might not be violent, but he certainly doesn’t advocate universal love. He says nothing when a man argues for excluding refugees from Wakanda because they bring problems. And for most of the movie, he refuses to use Wakanda’s knowledge to improve the lot of nearby countries, or the rest of the world. You wouldn’t say he dreams that Wakandans will be able to sit down with citizens from other countries at the table of brotherhood.

Neither resembles Malcolm X. Killmonger might seem like he does because of his violence and hatred. But there are important differences. Malcolm X’s religious beliefs were core to who he was. We have no indication that Killmonger has any. Where Malcolm X was eventually able to question his hatred and move past it, Killmonger never does. And while T’Challa doesn’t appear to care about anyone else but his own people, he never harbors the resentment that continues to characterize how people see Malcolm X.

So I don’t see Malcolm X or Dr. King as a useful analogy in this movie. I will say, though, that Killmonger calls to mind another important 20th century black leader: Marcus Garvey. Founder of the United Negro Improvement Association, Garvey wanted to see blacks unite, become self-sufficient, and ultimately go back to Africa and found an independent nation. Killmonger wants Wakanda to become that nation.

To advance his vision, Garvey met with Ku Klux Klan leader Edward Clark; he thought he could work with the KKK because both organizations advocated racial purity. Killmonger worked as a CIA operative for a country he regarded as an imperialist oppressor of blacks to gain the knowledge and skills he would ultimately use to take over Wakanda. Both men were willing to work with whites they detested to further their causes.

Garvey’s ideology lived on after he died. Killmonger is his heir.

So Maybe Holdo Isn’t a Hero…

My friend, the wonderful Caitlin Hewes, has written a rebuttal to my post on Vice Admiral Holdo. It’s well worth your time to check out:

Given the recent international box-office performance of the latest addition of the Star Wars franchise has been sub-par at best, I’m pretty confident I’m the only one still talking about The Last Jedi. That said, if you haven’t seen it, it’s coming out on an Apple TV near you on March 13. My lateness to reply aside, a recent debate over the weekend reminded me I was going to write this, so here it goes.

There are many different shades of heroism in this film. I’d certainly agree with Marcus that the film questions the narrative that you must achieve, or fail, at something spectacular enough for other people to notice to be considered a hero.

Consider the mysterious-misadventure-that-reveals-nothing-and-wastes-our-time on the gambling planet Elerion as Exhibit #1. Pandering political commentary aside, WHY was this in the film at all? Rose and Finn go off to get some random guy who might be able to do a random thing that just might save everyone. They completely fail in pretty much every way possible, make it back to the rebellion safe and sound and go on with it as if nothing ever happened. Whoo hoo!? Seriously, if either of them had been a US political candidate in the next election cycle I would have run hundreds of attack adds exposing their wasteful use of Rebellion resources.

No one would argue Rose and Finn are intended to be heroes, but are they? I’m not sure, and for the same reason I don’t believe Holdo is a hero either. Being a leader, and by extension, a hero (whether you can be a hero without being a leader is a question for another day) requires you to get ‘buy-in’ from those you’re leading. The random jaunts by Poe, Rose, and Finn, valuable leaders with strong followership within the Rebellion, are directly attributable to Holdo’s lack of leadership. If Poe, Rose, and Finn understood the purpose of Holdo’s actions, they could have supported her, or at least held back from full scale mutiny. However, Holdo’s lack of action convinced them that Holdo had no plan and therefore they needed to do whatever they could as independent agents aka mutineers to save the Rebellion.

Let’s think about what would have happened if Holdo had involved Poe.

  • Holdo: I have this plan where we’re going to sacrifice all the ships but most people survive and we’ll figure out what to do later.
  • Poe: That’s completely nuts. We should attack and give people cover to flee.
  • Holdo: This is the only way we’ll convince the First Order that there’s nothing suspicious going on. What do you think?
  • Poe: I think it could work, but we should make X,Y,Z changes. I’ll get my people on it straight away, they’ll be glad to know what we’re going to do.

Now, Holdo has not only prevented a mutiny she’s enlisted a valuable ally and strategic thinker who can help her to make her plan better. The magic of building ‘buy-in’ with key stakeholders like Poe is that even if he disagrees Poe will likely voice his disagreement to Holdo and try to work it out before doing something that could endanger the entire mission (like a mutiny!)

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and heroes certainly don’t have to go around advertising their plans. But, the greatest heroes are those who didn’t fight alone[1], who were humble enough to ask for advice and help and once in a while, even change their minds.

[1] Even Jesus had 12 disciples who were somewhat ‘in’ on the plan

 

Dark Knight Still Resonates Ten Years Later

I was rewatching Batman: Dark Knight the other day. And this time, I felt especially grabbed by the scene where two ships are in the water. One has regular Gotham citizens and the other has criminals. The joker gives each detonators to blow the other ship up. And he gives them a choice: either one of you blows the other ship up, or I’ll blow both of you up.

The people on both ships debated it for a while, but in the end, no one could bring themselves to actually push the button. Even after a man said that the criminals had their chance to do right and that if anyone was going to die, it should be them, he couldn’t push it. This scene gives us a fascinating—and uplifting— window into human nature.

First, it surely shows a discomfort with taking lives. Even if the criminals didn’t deserve to live, and even if killing them were necessary to save themselves, Gotham’s citizens didn’t want blood on their hands. This is particularly striking when we consider the criminals. It’s certainly plausible that there were murderers among them. And yet, they couldn’t bring themselves to push the detonator either. Perhaps, the movie’s writers are telling us, most people understand that human life has inherent value, even when placed in situations where there’s an incentive to kill.

Second, it provides a message about how to fight terrorists. That’s basically what the joker is. He is hoping to use terror to win his fight against Batman and Gotham. In such situations, there is a temptation to do whatever we have to in order to survive. That seems to be what the man who initially suggests blowing up the criminal ship has in mind. Yes, killing may be bad, but it’s what has to be done so we can live. But this would have given the Joker what he wanted: showing that human life is worthless and that people are inherently wicked, willing to run roughshod over others if it’s to their advantage. The only way to truly defeat the Joker was to reject the ideas he stood for, and that posed a real risk.

Third, I can’t help seeing a lesson that there is hope even the worst criminal can be redeemed. In a poignant moment, a huge criminal with a frightening frown commands an official to give him the detonator. The official obliges, and then the criminal throws it overboard. We don’t know what this man’s crimes were. But we know he was better than whatever bad decisions he made. He showed more regard for human life than many people without criminal records might under similar circumstances.

Do we really believe that criminals are capable of such goodness? Do we believe they deserve dignity? Dark Knight answers both questions affirmatively. If we do, that belief should inform how we treat criminals. We should seek to create environments that encourage their best instincts.

This is an optimistic portrayal of human nature for sure. And it contrasts with Harvey Dent’s storyline. Harvey starts out as an idealistic crusader risking his life to go after Gotham’s criminals. But after he loses Rachel, his fury turns him into a murderer. So while a crisis brought out the best from people aboard the ships rigged with explosives, it brought out the worst in Harvey.

That is the question I’m left with at the end of the movie. When the chips are down and we’re on the verge of losing everything, will we be more like the criminal who threw out the detonator, or more like Harvey?

“It’s hard for a good man to be king.”

This is probably the first of several Black Panther posts. One of the lines that stuck with me throughout the movie was after T’Challa becomes king of Wakanda. His father T’Chaka tells him that “it’s hard for a good man to be king.” There are a couple of ways to take this.

The first is that it is difficult for a moral person to make the compromised moral choices successful governing might require. In the movie, T’Challa faces some tough moral dilemmas. For example, he can choose to accept refugees and give them a far better life than they would otherwise know, but risk exposing Wakanda to the rest of the world. Then, other nations might try to conquer Wakanda for its vibranium, in which case T’Challa would make the lives of his people worse.

There is certainly an argument to be made that a wealthy, advanced nation like Wakanda has a special duty to those languishing in poverty nearby. So, it would seem that a good person would take the refugees in. But Wakanda’s king may still be unable to admit them if doing so would ultimately put his people at risk. If we frame T’Challa’s choices this way, a good leader may not be able to do the right thing. This is a reality that could confront all leaders at some point. A leader committed to honesty might have to weigh disclosing aspects of national surveillance that she thinks people have a right to know about against the possibility that terrorists will then have an easier time circumventing intelligence efforts. A leader who hates violence might have to take her country to war, which will lead to countless deaths, in order to place the country in a stronger geo-political position. In both cases, the leaders might not be able to live up to their moral ideals.

So perhaps T’Chaka is right and a good person who insists on following their moral convictions will be unable to make the choices leaders sometimes must for their countries. So is the solution to pick amoral leaders?

I don’t think so. The above scenarios present moral tradeoffs between two moral goods and two moral evils. On one hand, preserve your country’s safety, and on the other lie to its people. Refuse to take part in a war now and preserve lives, but at the cost of putting your country in a vulnerable position where others continually dominate it. Only a moral leader can see the moral implications of whatever actions she takes or does not take. After all, it takes a working moral compass to navigate the moral landscape all leaders must traverse.

The second way to take T’Chaka’s statement is that a moral person will have a hard time being a successful leader because he will be more tormented by tough decisions than a person with fewer moral scruples. And here, I think he is on solid ground. Eventually, a moral leader would find that the moral tradeoffs a king of Wakanda must make weigh on him. They make him question whether he is a good person and whether he is doing what is right. The voice at the back of his head saying “that isn’t right” will go from a whisper to a constant roar. More than likely, he may find himself surrendering his moral compass or surrendering his power.

I hope the inevitable sequels really dig into this question. How long can T’Challa live with the moral contradictions confronting him?

This is Us Can Teach You How to Apologize

If you hurt somebody, you say you’re sorry. That’s a lesson just about every child gets in Kindergarten or before. What isn’t clear is just why we’re supposed to apologize. Is it really to make amends for what we did wrong, or is it about soothing our own discomfort?

This is a tension I saw in last week’s episode of This is Us. Kevin is trying to make up for everything he did while drunk. He starts with Randall, helping him to renovate the apartment complex. Of course, given that he had Randall’s daughter in the car with him when he was driving drunk, it will probably take a lot to have Randall look at him the same way. And then Kevin apologizes to Sophie. He has plenty to apologize to her for, including cheating on her in the past, and the way he treated her during his addiction to pain medication.

The way Sophie reacted got my attention. At first she seems skeptical of his motives. She even tells him after he’s apologized that he can now cross her name off his list. Sensing that Sophie isn’t really buying his apology he tells her that she wasn’t just a name on his list; she was the name. Finally, she sends him away, telling him that she’s accepted his apology, but that he should leave her.

Part of Kevin’s motive that he wanted Sophie to take him back? Almost surely. The two were married at one point, and Kevin still loves her. And part of him probably wanted to feel better about all the pain he had caused her. Seeing how his selfish actions had tormented her over the years must have made him sad. Like looking in the mirror and realizing you don’t like the person staring back at you. Apologizing, then, was a way of being able to say he was a better person than that.

And perhaps our motive for apologizing affects how others perceive it. Part of the reason Sophie seemed so hesitant to genuinely accept Kevin’s apology was that she sensed he was doing it more for himself than for her. By contrast, I think most of us have an easier time accepting an apology when we feel it is truly about us.

So the next time you have to apologize to someone, remember to watch This is Us first.

Reflections on Martin Luther King Day

Today, Martin Luther King is arguably the closest thing we have in this country to a national saint. What I mean is, most of us think of him as someone who produced a miracle in achieving civil rights. He’s someone that all Americans feel like they can rally around. Politicians from both parties routinely quote him. A snippet from one of his speeches is supposed to settle debates by itself.

I’m sure this adulation would surprise Dr. King. I’m reminded of that when I read his letter from the Birmingham jail. I’ll never get over what a remarkable document it is—he produced something more cogent and more knowledgeable from a jail cell than many of us could do with a computer and internet access and unlimited time. The letter quotes from the Bible, theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, and Socrates. Anyway, at the time, clergy in Birmingham criticized Dr. King’s actions as untimely and called them extreme. That view didn’t disappear when Dr. King died in 1968. During the congressional debate over whether Dr. King should have a national holiday, Jesse Helms accused him of “action-oriented Marxism,” and claimed he harbored “radical political views.” The result (according to Helms) was that Dr. King’s “very name itself remains a source of tension, a deeply troubling symbol of divided society.”

What Dr. King did in his letter, among other things, was take on the idea that moderation was the highest good, unity the most important consideration. The ministers who had attacked him didn’t want him to rock the boat too much or cause too much division. They used the word “extreme” as an epithet to undermine his cause. No one wants to be seen as extreme, after all. But Dr. King reminds us that the same Jesus his clergy critics professed to worship gave his followers an extreme definition of love: that they were to love their enemies. He goes on to quote Lincoln’s admonition that America could not remain a nation half slave and half free, and Thomas Jefferson’s claim that all men were created equal, ideas that many saw as radical at one time.

After recounting our heartbreaking experience with slavery and the daily indignities racism inflicted on blacks, Dr. King demonstrated that the black community stood at a crossroads. For those who wanted change, there were those “who have lost faith in America” and “have concluded that the white man is an incorrigible ‘devil,’” and those in King’s movement. The question Dr. King posed is “not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be.” That is a question that should stay with us.

Dr. King teaches us that there is never a good time to demand justice. Frequently, calls for a more just society will strike those in power as “extreme.” Today, most of us take for granted that amusement parks shouldn’t close their doors to blacks and that blacks traveling should not be denied lodging at hotels because of their race. And yet those ideas were well outside the mainstream for much our history.  So for those working towards a more just society, I hope Dr. King’s example gives you heart. If you’re willing to persist in the face of criticism, you may find that what is radical today will be conventional wisdom tomorrow.

When Heroism Doesn’t Look Heroic

If you haven’t seen the new Star Wars, you should. In my opinion, it’s probably the best film in the series since the original trilogy. One of the things that I appreciated was its nuanced take on heroism. Most of us think of heroes as brave and dashing. They take bold steps and inspire others with their audacity. That description doesn’t fit Vice-Admiral Holdo—at least not at first.

With Princess Leia injured, Holdo takes command of the resistance’s fleet. Poe in particular (this trilogy’s hotshot pilot) is waiting for a big move like a counter-attack from her. It doesn’t come. Instead, she appears to sit there passively. She keeps the fleet out of range of the First Order’s cannons, but there isn’t enough fuel to do that for long. Finally, we learn that she is diverting fuel to transports to abandon ship. The whole time, she had a plan.

Of course, it wasn’t good enough for Poe. He starts to think she might be a traitor working for the First Order, or at the very least weak and incompetent. And it’s hard not to sympathize. If Holdo has her way, the resistance won’t have a fleet to fight the First Order with. He stages a mutiny which Holdo eventually puts down.

That’s when we find out the final part of Holdo’s plan. While the transports are traveling, she intends to stay on the ship to draw First Order fire. Aside from Leia and a few individuals nearby who may be listening into the conversation, no one knows about the sacrifice Holdo will make. Of course, the plan is disrupted when the First Order gets wind of the transports. It starts shooting them out of the sky. To give the remaining transports a chance, Holdo flies her ship into the First Order’s fleet, sacrificing herself all the same.

Holdo is a true hero. Thing is, she doesn’t look like it for most of the movie. In fact, her plan demands that she not look like a hero. She could’ve ordered a foolhardy attack to look brave, and it probably would have brought her cheers. But given the First Order’s superiority in numbers, such an attack would have inevitably failed. So, in order to be a hero who saved the people she cared about, Holdo had to be willing for her subordinates not to think of her as a hero.

That got me thinking. Some part of us probably wants to be considered heroic for the adulation we’d receive. If we were heroes, people would look up to us and admire us. It may be fair to say that most of us would jump at the chance to do something heroic if it meant we’d get praise. But how many of us would do something heroic if it meant we’d be condemned for it? What makes Holdo so heroic in my view is that she puts the good of her fleet ahead of her image. It’s a basic insight, but one that leaders fail to live by all the time.

Lots of impressionable kids were at the theaters watching this movie. I hope they all aspire to be heroes in their own way. What I hope they realize looking back is that the same actions that will make them true heroes will not always look heroic.

Retire the Term Uncle Tom

You’re probably familiar with the term “Uncle Tom.” It’s a synonym for a black sellout, someone who works against the interests of his own race. I’m not a big fan of the term, since it’s often applied to people who merely have different views about political and policy questions facing the black community. Be that as it may, the term definitely has a certain bite. That’s why I was so surprised when I read through Uncle Tom’s cabin.

In the book, Uncle Tom is exposed to a level of cruelty most of us could never imagine. His master in Kentucky sells him, but not before holding out false hope that he will buy him back. Another master in Louisiana promises to free him but dies just before fulfilling the promise. Sold yet again, he finds himself working for an exceptionally mean master.

The novel spends a great deal of time exploring Uncle Tom’s faith. He is constantly reading his Bible and professing it to others, even his master at one point. And he is a man of principle. When he sees a slave struggling to pick enough cotton, he dumps some of his into her sack and is hit for it. Not to be deterred, he dumps cotton in her sack again after the overseers leave. At the end of the day, his sadistic master orders him to beat the woman, but he refuses. He even goes so far as to tell his master to his face that beating her is wrong. For that, two overseers (who were also slaves) beat him nearly to death.

This episode is even more significant than it appears at first. At the time, slave owners often used the Bible to instruct slaves about their duties to honor and submit to their masters. Although they probably didn’t say it in so many words, masters suggested that their slaves’ biblical duty to obey them superseded any duty to follow their consciences. In refusing to obey his master, Uncle Tom showed that he rejected this twisted view of Christianity and that he would think for himself.

Afterwards, when Cassy comes to bandage his wounds, he tells her that God loves her and listens empathetically to her plight of having children sold away from her even as he is in agonizing pain himself. In short, far from selling fellow blacks out, he is a man who risked his life to help them.

In his own way, I see Uncle Tom as a rebel. No, he never tried to get all the slaves on his plantation to rise up. But he defied the prevailing notions at the time of what it means to be black. Slave owners and many others looked on blacks as beasts to be controlled, animals without a moral sense or the ability to reason. But in standing by his faith and acting upon it, Uncle Tom demonstrated that blacks were equal to whites in every way. Intellectually, they could understand how the Bible required them to behave and see past the attempts slave owners made to use it to justify oppression. Far from being cowards, they could be brave and live out their principles even when it might cost them their lives. Slavery did its best to strip Uncle Tom of his humanity. It failed.

Uncle Tom is best seen as a Christian apologist whose example called on Americans to follow the golden rule and treat blacks right. I certainly think that’s what Harriet Beecher Stowe intended when she wrote him. He deserves better than to be a racial epithet.

When Life Closes Doors, Watch This is Us

Last week’s episode of This is Us got me thinking about how we deal with closed doors in life. In the episode, we see repeated flashbacks to Kevin’s high school football career. He was such a standout quarterback that he could turn his nose up at a scholarship offer from the University of Pittsburgh—surely he was going to Notre Dame or another powerhouse program. The NFL would follow.

His knee had other ideas. On one play, a defender tackled him hard in the knee and he had to be taken off the field in a stretcher. After an MRI, his dad had to give him the terrible news. His knee would likely never allow him to play football again. In an instant, dreams he had harbored for years were destroyed. What sticks with me is what his dad told him next: I know football isn’t the only talent you have. It may take you a while to figure out what that talent is, but it’ll be special.

I’m sure that must have been so hard to believe laying there in that hospital bed. But as we find out, Kevin ended up having a successful acting career. In fact, his talent for acting is something he probably wouldn’t have discovered if he had kept playing football. Looking back, Kevin’s life turned out far differently than he had imagined as a teenager. But can we really say it was worse?

Somebody reading this may have just found out that a door they had been working towards most of their lives suddenly closed. For you, I say take heart. Whatever talent it was you used to pursue that opportunity, it isn’t your only one. That door may no longer be open, but somewhere there is another one that is.

Happy Death Day Review

 

I recently saw Happy Death Day. Be warned, spoilers are included in this post.

I thought it was an interesting premise. A college student (Theresa) is murdered and forced to relive the day of her murder repeatedly until she figures out who killed her. The movie managed to pull off a clever plot twist. At the beginning, Theresa’s roommate presents her with a cupcake and gets upset that Theresa won’t eat it. I didn’t pay the scene full attention each time Theresa relived it because it became clear that a deranged serial killer murdered her later in the movie.

Finally, she managed to kill him. But later that night she still died, poisoned in her sleep. Turns out that she ate the cupcake in the latest iteration of the day she died. And that cupcake was poisoned. The movie ended with Theresa killing her roommate by shoving the poisoned cupcake in her mouth.

While the plot was clever, I didn’t find the characters as fully developed as they could have been. This was truest for Theresa. I think the writers gave her too many sub-plots: her relationship with her dad, her illicit relationship with her professor, and of course her relationship to Carter. I think it would have been more effective if it had picked one of these and focused. For example, I was fascinated with how her relationship deteriorated with her dad. I would have been emotionally invested in seeing periodic flashbacks to their father-daughter relationship.

Overall, while Happy Death Day wasn’t the greatest movie ever, it was certainly entertaining.