Any hope
we had of insulating ourselves from the endless onslaught of Ferguson news and
developments was naïve. I don’t mean to diminish its importance, but I confess
to a certain level of fatigue as people on both sides of the issue (and, like
most issues, it’s polygonal, not really two-sided) beat their respective drums.
One of
the things we like about cruising, and I think it’s become the standard, is the
chance to dine with a variety of people, different each night and afternoon,
from all over the country and the world. The most common icebreaker, of course,
is, “Where are you from?” Even non-Americans are aware of the Michael Brown
tragedy, and everyone wants to know what is going on. (The red-typeface phrases are links to previous, perhaps relevant, articles from this blog.)
I am
quick to remind them that just because I’m from the same metropolitan area that
I have no special information, no real expertise. Of course, such a lack of
knowledge hasn’t seemed to stop anyone else from offering their perspective,
including, of course, some of those who were asking us the question. So-called
experts have been weighing in for weeks now, because, in America, knowing what
you’re talking about is not a prerequisite for opining. So what follows is,
essentially, how I’ve been answering the questions:
It’s a
mess and it’s going to continue to be a mess for some time. For me it’s kind of
like the recent World Series (and apologies if this analogy seems to trivialize
the tragedy, because that’s not my intent). While I didn’t have a team in the
hunt, I was aware, did care, and had reasons to root
for both sides. So I was interested, if not directly personally vested.
A
significant number of my former students are, or have been, in law enforcement.
We’re godparents to the daughter of a retired police officer. We are at least
indirectly connected to a number of police officers. We understand, at least
intellectually, the challenges and pressures of the job. There is a high level
of empathy for how difficult that job is, and respect for the importance of the
job, if not all individual practitioners. Kind of like teaching in that regard.
I also,
as it turns out, taught a cousin of Michael Brown, and I remember her with
only positive thoughts, an intelligent young woman. Other formers, students and
softball players (mostly African-American, but some white, as well), have been
involved in the protests. I know these people to be thoughtful and reasonable. Additionally, while I don’t exactly count Ferguson in their number, I’ve had enough of my own
encounters with the 2-bit kingdoms, both north and south, that make up the
predatory municipalities in St. Louis County, that it takes no imagination to
understand the build up of frustrations of black citizens who constitute the
majority of their prey. Empathy there, too. Nor am I so naïve as to believe
that racism isn’t a continuing problem, in Ferguson, in St. Louis, in the
United States.
It’s
pure speculation, added to all the other speculation, but here’s my guess on
what may have happened that afternoon. I
don’t know; neither do you. I’m not sure that even the grand jury will claim
full knowledge after it finishes its deliberations, although I am willing to give them credit for trying to come to a fair conclusion. The important thing: I may be wrong.
Michael
Brown seemed to be on the verge of turning his life into something positive. Most
important, he, at least, thought so. It may not have been via the traditional
route, but he had graduated from high school and was seemingly proud of that.
He had
enrolled in Vatterott (another predatory institution, IMO, much more interested
in its own profits than his future success), which would have opened a least a
few doors to a brighter future. (Again, I think those schools open far more doors
to bankruptcy or financial distress than personal success, but admit that they
have worked for some.) It also seems clear that Mr. Brown had perhaps taken a step
backward that day when he was rousted by Officer Darren Wilson.
For
whatever reason, however, it would appear he panicked, perhaps out of frustration,
perhaps out of the fear of seeing his dreams disintegrate, but no matter the
reason, he made the mistake of confronting the officer physically. There seems
little doubt that Officer Wilson was hurt; how badly or painfully is beyond my
knowledge. But if you’ve even been physically hurt by another, you know that rational
thinking can fly out the window quickly. Again, pure speculation, but I’m
guessing that out of fear and pain (and I will neither dismiss nor accuse
latent racism), the police officer also went into panic mode, with tragic, fatal
consequences for Mr. Brown and at least tragic for Officer Wilson.
There
are any number of scenarios where this tragedy could have played out
differently, with minimal damage to life or property. But in the heat of that particular
moment, at that particular time, the result was the ending of Michael Brown’s
young life and (probably) Officer Darren Wilson’s career, and, in a sense, life
as he knew it, as well. I don’t mean to equate the two, but this tragedy has had, and
those numbers might well mount, more than just those named victims.
This is
already too long, but a common thread, both at home and on this trip, has been
condemnation of “outsiders.” This is, in fact, code for the reverends Al
Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. I’m not a big fan, but they have their constituencies
and agendas and will play to them. They have their beliefs and codes, are legitimately
working to end racism and its attendant problems, and are unlikely to miss an opportunity to promote them
(or, it must be admitted, themselves).
But
let’s be fair. They are not the only outsiders in play, here. Talking
(screaming?) heads on radio and television and yes, social media, are just as
much outsiders, just as much pot-stirrers, even if they’re not physically
present. Their machinations, their agendas, which they no doubt justify as a
response to others, have kept the pot simmering, just waiting for the next
opportunity to bubble over in outrage, both feigned and real.
I’ll end
with this: finger-pointing, at best, exercises only one muscle, and not a
particularly productive one if it’s problem-solving that is our ultimate goal. Clearly,
this is a complicated, multi-faceted issue, and not just one simple problem with
a simple solution. General rule: the issue or solution that can be distilled to a
bumper sticker slogan (or meme) is deserving of only as much consideration as the time
it takes to read it.
Back to
the cruise – I never really said all this at one time, of course; in most
situations I wouldn’t have been allotted that much time from others’
self-promotion, but thanks for sticking with this until the end. I hope you don’t
feel so alone now if you’re still not sure what to think.
