Should students study the facts and effects of racism and white supremacy in the U.S.? Should they learn the hard facts of slavery, Jim Crow, and lynching, etc.? Should they have a chance in school/college to connect current issues with violent policing to a history of violence against Black folks (and other ethnic minorities)?
There seems to be some consensus among Conservatives and the GOP that the presence of such topics in curricula is inappropriate because it is “divisive” and excessively critical.
The “divisive” line of argument is a nice bit of ju-jitzu, inasmuch as the U.S. has always been divided–legally, economically, culturally–by ethnicity. We all know about the Constitution’s turning African Americans (in effect) into 3/5ths of a human being. We all know about Jim Crow and the exclusion of African Americans from popular culture (movies and TV, e.g.). Discussing divisiveness becomes “divisive” in the argument because, what?, such discrimination no longer exists? Because white folks are unduly burdened by such discussion?
The push-back against teaching about racism has been rather fierce. As the American Bar Association has noted, “President Trump issued and executive order excluding from federal contracts any diversity and inclusion training interpreted as containing “Divisive Concepts,” “Race or Sex Stereotyping,” and “Race or Sex Scapegoating.” Among the content considered “divisive” is Critical Race Theory (CRT).” (See “A Lesson in Critical Race Theory” by Janel George on the ABA site.) The Idaho state legislature passed legislation to ban the teaching of critical race theory.)
What should we make of such curriculum suppression? We might argue that it’s an authoritarian move, for sure, not exactly Stalinist but heading toward that region. We might ask of such politicians and their followers, “Why does this curriculum scare, threaten, or trouble you?” Or we might ask, “What specific parts of the curriculum to you wish to refute? What is inaccurate?” Or we might ask, “What do you hope to accomplish?” To the latter question, the politicians’ truthful answer might be “We’re looking for campaign money, a riled up base, and votes.”
And we might ask, “Is it possible to suppress such information in the digital age?”
At the university where I taught, I saw a bit of animosity toward “critical race theory.” Some faculty seemed to regard it as an example of “political correctness,” but for me, it was hard to discern what they meant by that. Did they mean “trendy”? Maybe. For me, that goes all the way back to the 1960s and 1970s, when traditional professors objected to the idea of a curriculum’s being “relevant.” –Relevant to the Viet Nam War and what it represented, relevant to racism and feminism, relevant to environmentalist (the term then would have been “ecological”) concerns. On the face of it, such opposition amused me (mere me, a student) because it was so easily satirized. “We must hold firm in our defense of an irrelevant curriculum!” More broadly, the opposition was part of a defense of “the canon” in literature, of teaching great events and great men (few women) in history, of teaching stuff that “had always been taught.” Of course, not much of it had always been taught. I learned this most vividly early on by looking at poetry anthologies from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. A majority of the poems and poets were no longer taught, even before the 1960s “relevance” debate occurred. “The canon” really never existed in static form; it was always changing. Just as what science classes teach is always changing (because that’s the nature of science).
What exactly is “critical race theory,” and why might faculties and others oppose it? Let’s take a look. I rather like Janel George’s crisp summary. Its features, she writes are chiefly four-fold:
First, it “Recognition that race is not biologically real but is socially constructed and socially significant. It recognizes that science (as demonstrated in the Human Genome Project) refutes the idea of biological racial differences.” This point seems hard to refute. Curiously, though, it can be twisted. One prominent progressive (a white man) on my campus argued that because “race” was not biological, we should not teach topics related to racism. He wanted to boil everything down to social class. Oh great, I thought, another excuse to ignore racism. Clever! I see what you did there!
Second, CRT acknowledges “that racism is a normal feature of society and is embedded within systems and institutions, like the legal system, that replicate racial inequality.” This is one FOX News and its legions of followers hate. Structural racism doesn’t exist! There may be a few racists out there, but I’m not one, and anyway, it’s no big deal! Senator Kennedy from Louisiana loves to take this tack when questioning nominees. I’ve lost count of the times he has asked, “Does that make me a racist?” It’s a false trail. Yes, you probably align yourself with racist views to appeal to your constituents, senator, but who cares? It’s not about you, my narcissistic friend. And stop the clueless hick act: You went to Oxford.
If you don’t think racism and white supremacy are systemic, there probably is no argument or load of data I can offer to change your mind. Agree to disagree.
Third, CRT rejects “popular understandings about racism, such as arguments that confine racism to a few ‘bad apples.'” We might see this as an outgrowth of Feature Two. Yes, individual racists can be a problem, but it’s more urgent and productive to look at how institutions perpetuate bias, prejudice, invisibility, etc. The “invisibility” part was a big deal on my campus, as the progressive and others argued for “color-blindness.” Hey, just pretend you don’t notice ethnicity, and all will be well! Uh, no, it’s important to notice ethnicity, to learn about it, to respect it, but also to approach it with sophistication and subtlety. No need to go up to a Black student and say, “Hey, I notice you’re Black!” BUT, it might be good if professors were alert, for example, to “the move” whereby white students (and professors!) turn to the only Black student in class and ask, “What to Black people think?” The “native informant” move. I have seen it in mortifying action.
Fourth, CRT includes the “recognition of the relevance of people’s everyday lives to scholarship. This includes embracing the lived experiences of people of color, including those preserved through storytelling, and rejecting deficit-informed research that excludes the epistemologies of people of color.”
Of the four, this one may have been (might be) the one mostly likely to stick in the craw of academics. I heard a colleague in Communication say, for example, that he was simply not interested in hearing students “emote” in class. He was all about hard data and texts (and not texts of students’ stories). I thought his recoiling at the thought of a student relating an anecdote was, well, an example of emoting.
In short, Item Four threatens those who see themselves as dedicated to empiricism. And it’s easy to grasp why. If you teach in a data-heavy discipline, how are you supposed to incorporate students’ stories? If you teach in the sciences, especially, where is there space for “lived experiences”? Valid questions. I think, too often, those who advocate for critical race theory don’t take the time to note that they’re talking mostly about courses in the humanities and perhaps don’t anticipate how their audience, if that audience includes scientists and social scientists, might react to their arguments.
But there probably opportunities outside humanities to discuss such things as confirmation bias when people work with data. Or maybe to discuss misuse of data, as in the notorious book, The Bell Curve. Or maybe to acknowledge the invisibility of African Americans (for example), historically, in social sciences, the sciences, legal studies, and so on. It’s incumbent upon those advocating critical race theory to consider whether and how to approach those who have reason not to “get,” automatically, what they’re advocating, not because of prejudice, per se, but because of disciplinary barriers. In part, it goes back to the old rhetorical questions: Who’s in my audience? How might what I’m saying initially alarm part of the audience–for acceptable reasons? How might I bridge the gap?
I taught literature and writing, so, of course, I wasn’t threatened by Item Four because I was all about stories (and poems). While teaching African American literature, I often thought a student’s anecdote about her own example of “double-consciousness” (Du Bois’s venerable concept) was useful–for example. Not that we had to turn the whole session into anecdote telling, but concrete examples (my form of empiricism) were, I thought, useful. Particular and vivid = good! I think Item Four is debatable, but not rejectable. That is, I think faculty and students ought to find a way to discuss it soberly, without getting all riled up. Okay, so if I were to incorporate students’ “lived experience” into what I teach, what might that look like? Is it really as viral or bacterial as I fear it is? Must it always be seen as a threat to the way I see the world or how I teach? Keep calm and carry on.
Much of Critical Race Theory, in my view, is not all that theoretical (in an abstract sense) but is based instead on the Fact of America. Racism and white supremacy are everywhere you look in our history and present. Taking over Native American lands, maintaining slaves, relying on cheap oppressed labor from Asian- and Latino Americans, the Dixiecrats getting absorbed into the GOP, segregation multiplied a million times, the over-reaction to Obama’s election, racist “dog whistles” in politics, blatant white supremacy in Trump’s base (and his insurrection), and on and on. It’s who we are, folks, so yes, study it. How to study it? Sure, debate that. Listen and learn. Talk and adjust. Read and ponder. But suppress curricula? Well, if you try, your are, in a sense, conceding the arguments of CRT.