“Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being.” -Albert Camus
Trung Lee, a student from Vietnam, wrote in my class, “A civilization that is spineless and twists its principles at any moment’s notice will not survive, for someone who stands for nothing will die for nothing.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. perfectly conceptualized this lack of courage with the term “white moderate,” someone “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.”
Lee’s statement, like Camus’s quote, ultimately speaks to the notion of earning one’s “innocence” as the key to survival, fending off complicity in the contagious inertia of doing nothing when justice calls. I am always intrigued intellectually and emotionally afraid as to what I will unveil when I contemplate my complicity in actions that harm — not out of malice, but from my inaction in situations that call on my better self to engage.
As Thich Nhat Hanh states, “At any moment, you have a choice that either leads you closer to your spirit or further away from it.” When my answer lacks courage or reveals a complacency that mimics the behavior of King’s “white moderate,” I lessen the presence of justice and dignity in our world and disappoint myself. Camus and King call on us to be “self-pure,” to foment a fundamental rejuvenation of our soul and honor our nostalgia for innocence.
Mandy Lei, a recent student, sees this personal quest for being self-pure as an essential force for creating a world where dignity and justice thrive. She writes, “I believe that within the nuanced issue of how we can deliver a just and principled society, power, purity, innocence and justice are deeply intertwined factors that we cannot live without. Perhaps the steps to fostering a powerful society are through justice … inspired by innocence and delivered on the intent to preserve our self-purities.”
Author Shelby Steele says, “Innocence is power. In a society like America, with our history, we have this combination of unparalleled greatness and almost unbelievable evil. The pressures of being an American involve grappling with innocence. So much of our politics and culture come out of this struggle with innocence.”
Our nation’s “divine” mission and our claim to “exceptionalism” are steeped in a “righteous” presumption of false innocence. Shelby Steele says that we presume innocence to excuse us from self-scrutiny as we — historically and regularly — find ill-begotten refuge in the notion of noble ends to excuse ignoble means. In this sense, innocence is unearned power with no innocent destination. MLK believed that we cannot foster justice through unjust means. The heart of his letter from Birmingham City jail circles the concept of self-purity, where innocence is earned through moral work, where, “… the means must be as pure as the ends, for, in the long run of history, immoral means cannot bring about moral and constructive ends.”
And, we should grapple with innocence! Eli Cohen, a student from last year, when asked if he was hopeful about our future, stated we are a great nation yet we are a nation founded on theft and we sealed our fate with genocide and the enslavement of more than 12 million African slaves. Despite our lofty national mantra, our actions are far from “clean” and our claims of innocence ring hollow.
Student Morgan Karow writes, “Attacks on others are attacks on our own collective humanity, because, as Camus would say, they diminish our innocence as a people. Often, I find myself worrying about being on the right side of history — how will I understand the shifts in paradigm the future holds? My ‘vaccine’ for this is to look back at MLK, Gandhi, the Quakers and the abolitionists: the common theme between these people is that they were on no witch hunt. In the face of atrocities and opportunities to harm others for personal gain, they chose mercy and dignity.”
These conversations articulate a critical process of self-reflection, both as individuals and citizens. Ta-Nehisi Coates testified before a Congressional hearing on reparations, “Many of us would love to be taxed for the things we are solely and individually responsible for. But we are American citizens, and thus bound to a collective enterprise that extends beyond our individual and personal reach … We recognize our lineage as a generational trust, as inheritance, and the real dilemma is a dilemma of inheritance.” Our citizenship is a bond of inheritance that invites a courageous engagement in these conversations.
Nov. 5, 2024 is proof of this bond, when we honor our citizenship and vote. Perhaps it is the one day in the year when we stand up and share the responsibility for our inheritance; perhaps we take small actions every day of the year. Perhaps the route to building a nation that is not spineless is to be citizens of clear intent and action, ready, maybe even eager, maybe even grateful, to be counted. And, as a member of the whole, finding comfort in Maya Angelou’s poem “The Pulse of Morning”: “You may have the grace to look up into your country and say simply, very simply with hope … Good Morning.”