The Tragedy of the Political

I’m writing this the day after two men had their throats slit for refusing to watch a white supremacist berate two women, one of whom was wearing a hijab. These men – we now know them as Taliesin Myrddin Namkai-Meche, 23, and Ricky John Best, 53 – intervened. The man who killed them, identified as Jeremy Joseph Christian, 35, was yelling slurs at the women. Details are scant, but we know that Christian slit the throats of Namkai-Meche and Best, killing them and stabbing a third man, Micah David-Cole Fletcher, 21, who is being treated for non-life-threatening injuries.

It feels insensitive to write about this the day after their deaths. All across this country, people are grieving. Tens of thousands of people are telling Namkai-Meche’s mother that her son was a hero, that she is a hero for raising a man who intervened on behalf of strangers. I don’t mean to claim I have a clever take that you must listen to; I’m grieving too.

To quote an essay written after the 2015 attacks that left over 100 dead in Paris, “If it’s barbarism to write poetry after Auschwitz, then it’s also barbarism to write think pieces after Paris.” Surely the same can be said after Portland. But if so many acts of violence these days are political, Namkai-Meche and Best’s deaths feel over-determined, inflection points in a time of upheaval where our days are over-saturated, each news cycle overflowing, delivered breathlessly, as if we now exist in a present that is somehow both too fast, impossible to keep up with, even as each day stretches onward like a horizon, full of too many hours, as if time itself is at fault, offering up irresistible opportunities for horror to the world, whose villains can’t help but drop tragedies into our day.

Donald Trump is the president. His election has intensified a lot of problems but after Portland, none feels more suffocating than the recognition of how much Trump’s administration empowers the far right, vigilantes like Christian, a denizen of those idiotic free-speech rallies who would of course never murder someone, until he did.

And he’s not alone. One week ago, on May 20, Sean Urbanski, a white man, murdered Richard Collins III, a black man who would have graduated from Bowie State University this week, was murdered by Sean Urbanski. He stabbed Collins in the chest and fled the scene. We later found out Urbanski, like Christian, followed the far right.

Then there’s Adam Puriton, 51, a white man accused of killing Srinivas Kuchibhotla, 32, and wounding Alok Madasani, also 32, in a bar in Olathe, Kansas on February 24 of this year. At least one bystander claims Puriton shouted “get out of my country” before shooting the victims, who were Indian. Puriton is also accused of wounding Ian Grillot, 24, who was shot while trying to intervene.

These are all racist attacks. Dave Zirin was right to call Collins’s death a lynching. These are all hate crimes. The men who are killing our friends and neighbors are empowered by the election of someone who imbibes fringe far-right beliefs about people of color, then spits them out as policy.

These policies are being challenged in the courts and on the streets across this country, but they’re having an effect. Despite courts overturning Trump’s “Muslim ban,” visas issued to the six countries targeted by his March 6 travel ban – Iran, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, and Yemen – declined by 55 percent compared with a year prior.

As was widely reported yesterday, airstrikes from the US-led coalition killed at least 106 civilians, including 42 children, in Al Mayadeen, a city in eastern Syria. This news broke the same day Christian murdered the two men who dared stop him from shouting anti-immigrant slurs on a Portland train. When Islamophobia is state policy and racism is preached from the Oval Office, it’s no surprise the far-right’s shock troops kill people in cold blood. When the leader of the United States has your back, what is there to lose?

Which is not to let the administrations before Trump off the hook: George W. Bush instituted the PATRIOT Act, putting massive resources into the surveillance and harassment of Muslim communities, not to mention the atrocities perpetrated abroad. Obama perfected drone warfare, normalizing the practice of killing civilians without it tarring his “progressive” or “anti-racist” legacy. But Trump crystallizes these precedents, taking them to their logical conclusion and refusing to couch them in the denialism and technocratic language preferred by our political elites. He admits to what he’s doing and doesn’t apologize for it, emboldening his grassroots following to act on the ideas driving his administration.

For those of us who oppose racism whether it’s coming from the state or vigilantes, the question arises: what can we do? The answer seems more straightforward, if also more challenging, when it comes to the racism of the state: we oppose Trump’s policies, push for reforms that protect our communities, and challenge the American war machine no matter how it tries to explain away its actions.

But at the grassroots? After all, the two heroes in Portland were killed while intervening to prevent racist harassment. And Grillot, the young man Puriton shot in Kansas – he was intervening. Are we to put our lives at risk to stand up to bigotry?

I wish I had an answer to that. At one level, the mode of action remains the same: you have to intervene if it feels like the right thing to do, even knowing that this could cause violence to escalate back onto you. I did this just two days ago: a woman was preaching Islamophobia at a diner, and I weighed the costs and benefits to inserting myself into a situation from which I could easily walk away. I intervened. The goal wasn’t to convince a bigot to give up her bigotry, but to make her think twice about spouting it publicly, and to show bystanders that they have comrades who won’t abide by racism. And I’d done it the night before, at a bar in Brooklyn, when a man brought up the Manchester bombing and insisted it was reason to tighten our immigration policies. Fortunately, the bartender was on my side, and told the man he could either shut up or leave, and the man choosing to leave. If this happens that often in New York, bastion of liberalism that it is, I can only imagine those in the country’s heartland are now forced to make these calculations on an increasingly frequent basis.

These recent murders may change that calculus for many of us. That’s natural. The more pressing consideration then moves to the collective level: how do we challenge the far-right as a movement, without restricting our challenges to the occasional rally or march?

That’s a question being discussed now in organizations across the country. How do we prevent racist violence without asking people to risk their safety? How do we broaden the consensus that declares the far right unacceptable, that prevents them from berating our friends and families in a way that isn’t voluntaristic or premised on a willingness to confront the right individually?

It’s a more pressing question than ever, and far be it for me to answer it on behalf of organizations or social movements. But ours is undeniably a present soaked in blood, steeped in intimidation, heavy and deluged, screaming with urgency.

The First Week

I feel like I’ve hardly had time to breathe this week. I don’t even get out of bed sometimes: upon waking, I open my laptop and start responding to emails, DMs, slack channels, facebook messenger. The sun goes up and then down again as I sit, hunched, glued to the screen.

Just in my tiny slice of the world, Trump’s impact is already being felt. Unions are pulling out of organizing campaigns. Colleagues who have been helping organize our union may be stuck in Iran. Friends are losing their jobs, their research funding, their confidence that any of our work matters.
 
And they’re right to be afraid! It’s scary to imagine the damage this administration will inflict in lives lost, progress undone, bonds of solidarity disentangled. Yet if we give up, the disasters will only multiply.
 
As for how Trump is impacting our movements, I can only speak about labor. In the face of will be a multi-pronged attack – mass privatizations, federal right-to-work laws, and the loss of the NLRB – what’s becoming clear is how little leadership union “leaders” offer us. In the face of attacks the likes of which we haven’t seen in nearly a century, leaders are huddling together, turning inward when we need precisely the opposite.

So, what does that mean for the grassroots? It means that at the end of the day, we only have each other and the camaraderie and strength we’ve built as workers to think on our feet even as institutions and laws dissolve around us. If unions care about the labor movement, they’ll transfer organizing skills as quickly as possible to workers, they’ll admit new ways of thinking into their ranks. And if not? Well, we’ve been here before, before we built unions and pushed for legal protections and all the rest; we can do it again.
 
I’m confident the same can be said for the feminist movement, the anti-police brutality movement, the environmental movement, and every other social movement that’s been under siege this week. Established institutions, be they the Democratic Party, unions, or non-profits, will try to accommodate the new administration as best they can, throwing those of us who can’t fit into the administration’s deeply limited bounds of acceptability under the bus. And we’ll have to be distinct from these backroom deals: more mobilized than ever, more democratic than ever, if we actually want to build a resistance that can force concessions and reversals from this administration. We’ll have to welcome in the flood of people who want to fight the agenda on offer because after all, the only way any of us learned anything was through struggle, so we can’t expect the thousands flooding into our movements to be any different.

No matter what those at the top do – and all indications that the Democrats are the worst of the worst when it comes to spineless collaboration with the right – we can’t forget that we, the people on the ground and in the street and the workplace and the clinic, are the ones who built each and every worthwhile institution in this country. We forced labor protections into law. We created underground abortion networks until we freed up enough room for above ground clinics to operate. We welcomed refugees with open arms.

It’s scary to consider how much today feels like what I hoped was a long-gone era of reaction. But now more than ever, we need to remember our history. When it comes to everything Trump and his ghastly bands of ghouls are hellbent on destroying, we built it all in the first place. If need be, we can build it back up again. That may not be the sexiest message on offer, but it’s the truth.

re: free speech on college campuses

As I’ve noted previously, the absence of campus Zionists from the countless think pieces on campus activism and the right to free speech is glaring.

My view on the supposed conflict between the right to free speech and the right to equality across race/gender/sexualities is that it doesn’t exist, and we shouldn’t cede to the conservative framing of this debate as one in which these two aims are intractably opposed. Instead, we can (and should) argue that, in the case of current anti-racist protests, students are advocating for free speech by agitating for the conditions that would allow black students to freely exercise their speech. That rather than the ‘coddled’ enemies of speech they dislike, black students are defending this right which is being denied them. Having said this, the debate will nonetheless continue to operate as it is, what with the majority of media outlets serving fundamentally conservative societal functions. This being the case, we must start analyzing how the tactical censorious being displayed by a small subset of progressive activists is becoming the preferred tactic of a very different sort of campus activist: Zionists.

As yet another example of how effectively Zionists are using the censorious discourse of a right to feel safe on campus as a means for shutting down BDS (Boycott, Divest, and Sanctions) initiatives, the following is an email UC Santa Cruz students just received:

“On college campuses across the country, students are engaged in challenging but necessary conversations with administrators about race, religion, ethnicity, and identity.

At their best, challenging incidents can usher in long overdue changes that promote greater understanding and equality. At their worst, they can exacerbate tensions and contribute to what some experience as a hostile environment.

Globally, we’re seeing how hatred can lead to unimaginable acts of violence.

Nationally, students affiliated with the Black Lives Matter movement stood in solidarity with their peers at the University of Missouri who are protesting widespread racism on that campus and working toward meaningful change.

On our campus, which has a long and proud history of student engagement in critical issues of equity and social justice, I want to be sure we acknowledge differences of opinion and work to maintain civility in the midst of turmoil.

In student government, as is their right, the Student Union Assembly this week voted to reinstate a resolution urging the University of California to divest from Israel. The Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement has generated passionate opinions on both sides.

I’m concerned this resolution will have a chilling effect on individuals within our campus community. However unintentional, its passage may create an environment in which some of our Jewish students feel alienated and less welcome on our campus.

We have a commitment at UC Santa Cruz to engaged, respectful dialogue. The free and open exchange of ideas is a pillar of our Principles of Community.

I am convening my Chancellor’s Diversity Advisory Council to discuss the climate for Jewish students on campus. The council has advocated for African American students, LGBT students, and the disabled members of our community, among others, and I want to be sure our campus community welcomes and supports Jewish students, faculty, and staff. I will share my thoughts about that conversation as it unfolds.

Universities are microcosms of our complex, diverse global society. With so many differences, the opportunities for division are endless. Instead, let us make the conscious choice to seek common ground, to forge understanding, and to cultivate compassion. By doing so, we will model the way for the world-a laudable and fitting goal for UC Santa Cruz.”

This administration has made use of radical organizing in support of black students to stifle a pro-Palestine initiative. These two struggles are deeply connected; to position them as opposed is a political move that needs to be argued against. As for me, I’m gonna keep arguing against whoever wants to censor speech they dislike – but more than nine times out of ten, that means I’m gonna be arguing with Zionists.