Errol Smith from the May 1995 issue
(Page 2 of 2)
But Loury's analysis goes far beyond simplistic notions of "self-help." He argues that fault and responsibility do not necessarily go hand in hand. "It is absolutely vital that blacks distinguish between the fault which may be attributed to racism as a cause of the black condition and the responsibility for relieving that condition," he writes. Loury is correct in insisting that no people can genuinely be free if they believe their freedom must be delivered to them by others.
Fostering the commitment to the notion of self-help is a responsibility he places squarely at the doorstep of the established black leadership. He is justly critical of the inclination among black political, intellectual, and religious leaders to finger the "racist American society" for the general condition of the black underclass. Furthermore, he berates the notion that the problems of black poverty, unwed black teenage parents, and black crime will miraculously disappear when America "finally does right by its black folk." Loury persuasively argues that these positions dodge both the responsibility of individuals for their behavior and the responsibility of groups for the values embraced within a given community.
As a pragmatic matter, says Loury, any effective response to the problems of black Americans requires the "intimate involvement" of black institutions, black politicians, black educators, and black individuals. At the same time, however, Loury draws the line at asserting a race-specific collective responsibility for the black underclass. Rightfully so. It is generally accepted that a civilized society assists its members who cannot do for themselves, but to assign a race-specific onus to all black Americans smacks of a racial or cultural determinism that seeks to dictate behavior on the basis of group membership instead of individual free will.
Still, Loury seems to believe--and I agree with him on the point--that the black civil rights establishment, which has effectively monopolized leadership in the black community, has a special responsibility for the current decrepit state of individual values. By focusing almost exclusively on external contributors to the plight of the black underclass, organizations such as the NAACP and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference have helped erode black communities' historical commitment to self-reliance. As a result, we have now created an entire generation of black men and women who are convinced they can do little to improve their condition until white America changes.
Loury is aware of the political and social realities that inhibit black leaders from openly criticizing black behavior and he's afraid of "aiding and abetting" those who would use such critiques to advance racist notions of black inferiority. But he insists that the stifling of discourse has the much more deleterious effect of hindering development of new approaches to resolve the black community's increasingly intractable problems.
Hence, Loury welcomes the more recent pronouncements by black leaders acknowledging the central role of values in uplifting the black underclass, such as occurred last year during the annual meeting of the Congressional Black Caucus. Speaking to a primarily black audience, Jesse Jackson charged them to use the "power of character" to deal with the problems of teen pregnancy, drug abuse, and black-on-black crime--a decided shift from the traditional rhetoric of blaming these pathologies on white oppression. Loury also has only kind words for the growing number of programs offered by churches, benevolent societies, and social clubs within the black community to encourage responsible male involvement in parenting, prevent unplanned pregnancies, support young single mothers, and the like.
Loury's prescriptions are clearly recognizable as "black conservatism." At the core of One by One is the proposition that future black progress and, ultimately, genuine equality will be achieved only through a commitment at the "individual level" to embrace a specific set of values. Loury doesn't scant political activism, but he insists that the primary vehicle for empowerment is individual action. He is similarly adamant about the inherent superiority of two-parent families, the need for self-discipline, and the commitment to take the moral high ground, divorced from external considerations. Loury argues that only through exceptional moral and social conduct, along with an individual commitment to educational and professional excellence, will we as a society be able to bring about the conditions for uplifting the most troubled segments of the black community.
But Loury avoids being ideological to a fault: In his vision, self-help need not preclude financial and other aid from the state. For Loury, the principal way government can aid blacks is by providing them with a good education. If this means race-targeted and preferential spending on black education, so be it. He is unequivocal in his view that this may involve spending more on "public institutions that serve large numbers of poor black people."
I agree with Loury that such a policy is appropriate, with the proviso that the "quality" of education for blacks not be measured primarily in terms of relative dollars spent. Perhaps the greatest historical American transgression was to free slaves into a society in which they were ill-equipped to effectively survive. The legacy of poorly educated blacks remains one of the central issues in contemporary America's racial dilemma.
Loury offended my sensibilities only once, during a discussion of "social capital"--the associations, benefits, and support networks that characterize upper-class white experience, a kind of ready accessibility to other people who are going places, to people who will one day end up in powerful circles. Loury suggests that a black "adolescent with an aptitude and interest for academic matters" might have trouble finding the peer groups and larger social networks that engender upward mobility. Loury believes that government intervention can help offset the lack of social capital in the poor black community.
But are urban black communities so bereft of upwardly mobile individuals that social capital cannot be developed? I know of no neighborhoods, even among the poorest and most crime ridden, that do not have churches. Churches have routinely served as a meeting place for the best individuals a neighborhood has to offer and they continue to serve as a place for not just spiritual development, but personal and social development as well.
In fact, much of what I personally learned about navigating life, about presenting myself to a broader society, and about gaining entrance into upwardly mobile groups, I learned from a little inner-city church in a New York ghetto. As a product of the inner city, I find it inconceivable that an adolescent intent on finding a support group would be unable to do so.
This minor point aside, One by One from the Inside Out: Race and Responsibility in America is an insightful and elucidating work. Those interested in facing and solving the problems of this nation's black underclass will want to make sure they don't overlook these essays.
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