Four Stages of Pathological Race-Relations—the Last Being Fatal (Part IV)

Earlier, I neglected to christen the first stage of degenerative race relations because I could arrive at nothing better in my auditions than the hideous tag, Rivalry Transfer.  (I hate these noun pairs, so common in current academe, where the leader is forced to become an adjective: “race relations”, of course, is one such.)  I’ll surrender to Rivalry Transfer at last, just because it’s accurate.  Say that two groups are economic rivals; the more socially embedded and (usually) larger group notices some superficial characteristic about the other; then the former group’s deep animosity is transferred to the latter’s surface, and “their slanty eyes” or “their kinky hair” absorbs much casual outrage for the loss of  jobs.

Next we have the defense of the beleaguered minority by established authorities.  I called this phase is paternalistic.  It may also be genuinely racist, as I have argued.  While the “hair-haters” were simple bigots who never put much thought into their response, the paternalists are often fully convinced, after careful consideration, that the “inferior tribe” cannot survive on its own and requires benign steering.

Unfortunately, when one leans on a shoulder in politics, one is apt to find oneself in a choke-hold.  Yesterday’s paternalists, though their condescending motives may have rooted in a warm heart, readily pass the generational baton to manipulators who sustain—or perhaps extend—the sub-class’s misery in order to ensure its support at election time.  A ruinous dependency develops, like a woman’s upon an abusive husband who, however, keeps her well supplied in food and clothes.  This New Subjugation is worse than literal slavery in that the latter offers the possibility of exit, whereas the former is a sealed labyrinth—a dizzying swirl of never-fulfilled promises.

So must this third stage not be the final one?  For where can you proceed from a sealed labyrinth?  Nowhere, from the inside.  The next “advance” is the most deadly in society’s degenerative descent, and it comes from without.  The Subjugationist’s political adversaries have grown ever more vexed at the privileged existence of the “underprivileged”.  Nursed along in dependency by their keepers, they harvest subsidies for food, housing, medical services, and education, and are even regaled with such luxuries as cell phones and televisions… yet (or for that very reason) they never seem to draw any closer to self-sufficiency.  All the while, the mainstream Joe sees his taxes rise as his company is penalized by Equal Opportunity laws, his children nudged from elite colleges or jobs by Affirmative Action… and, to his credit, he understands in his better moments that the paternalist pimp has designed this game, not the pawns shuffled about among select minorities.  Yet those better moments inevitably grow fewer as taxes continue to rise and opportunities to shrink.

The icing on the proverbial cake—or, more accurately, the last slap in the face—is the open contempt to which Joe is constantly treated in public media on account of his resentment.  He is a racist, a bigot, a Nazi, a Hitler, without any of the rigor being sought for these unsavory terms that I have tried to give them in my essays.  He would be Satan if the reference were not placed off limits by his defamers’ longstanding habit of mocking his religious tradition.  As he is plundered, then, he is also demeaned.  (I’ll always remember having “little Richard Nixon!” hissed at my heels because, as an undergraduate in Austin, I passed a booth dedicated to the Black Panthers without ponying up a dollar.  At the time, every thread on my body was several years old.)

The cynical manipulators of the New Subjugation view this rising tension with satisfaction, I am convinced, and apply themselves to seeing that the prisoners within their labyrinth perceive it as a further need for protection.  Gun confiscation, for instance, is a prominent item on the agenda, not because a single mother or a septuagenarian retiree wouldn’t welcome an equalizer when climbing a crime-ridden apartment complex’s stairs, but because… because “they” are training to exterminate “you” with their assault rifles—those white Klansmen and neo-Nazis who number in the millions but are craftily staying low for now.  The Subjugationists, in short, keep their constituency in a state of constant paranoia.

Anyone can see that this stage promises to be fatal to society if not somehow amended.  I will call it the Stage of Engineered Conflict.  To be sure, friction occurs at every phase of strained race relations—but now it is being bred deliberately by those who wish to profit from it.

And the profit isn’t paid merely in the coin of elective sinecures—the automatically renewed terms in office enjoyed by the likes of Alcee Hastings (before his utter disgrace), Maxine Waters, and Sheila Jackson Lee.  Perhaps these worthies, themselves risen from the “victim class” to bask in money and power for the rest of their time on this earth, are quite content to see the arrangement stabilized.  The true Subjugationist, however (what one might call the New Kentucky Colonel—an old-style paternalist in his rhetoric, but a visionary with world domination fluttering in his dreams), must surely have a grander endgame.  He is almost always a white male of almost inconceivable wealth: a profiteer of the tech revolution, maybe, whose hunger has long outgrown 20,000-square-foot mansions and Ferrari collections.  He would be God… but the republic stands in his way.  To complete his design for perfecting the human race (notice that the crazed paternalism lingers), he needs an indefinite suspension of elections.  The two- and four-year cycles of silliness that forever hamper his Plan for Progress must somehow be swept away.

How better to do this than to precipitate a race war?  Rioting in the streets, looting on a national scale… the calling out of the National Guard, which is transformed overnight into a National Police Force… the declaration of martial law and indefinite suspension of free elections… now we can stop cutting bait, and begin to fish.

The beauty of the scheme is that both of the openly hostile parties—the “us” and “them”, the Klansmen and the Black Panthers—can only draw the noose tighter around their neck the more they struggle.  The mainstream taxpayer demands relief.  In doing so, he is in effect cutting off the lifeline to the dependent classes.  These classes, of course, see the mainstream’s stinginess as a poorly veiled effort to eradicate them… and the temperature rises.  Since serious budgetary issues are never addressed (for even large sectors of the mainstream have been wooed with paternalist goodies), the nation continues to spiral toward insolvency.  Collapse is inevitable.

And the first to starve in a cold tenement or to be shot down while looting will, of course, be members of the underclass—the unproductive dependents whose votes are no longer needed, stabbed in the back by the Designer who had protected them so artfully for so long.  But their destruction is all in a good cause: to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs.  Or, in that more elegant phrasing of the same sentiment by Lenin’s spiritual forefather, better that one should die than that many should suffer.

May we revise Caiaphas’ profound reflection to read, “Better that many should suffer than that the Superior Being never rise from their ruin”?  Onward, humanity!  Meanwhile, just deposit those rioters in a collective grave: the cemetery’s space is needed, and their individual lives were a public nuisance, anyway.

Author: nilnoviblog

I hold a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature (Latin/Greek) but have not navigated academe very successfully for the past thirty years. This is owed partly to my non-PC place of origin (Texas), but probably more to my conviction--along with the ancients--that human nature is immutable, and my further conviction--along with Stoics and true Christians-- that we have a natural calling to surmount our nature. Or maybe I just don't play office politics well. I'm much looking forward to impending retirement, when I can tend to my orchards and perhaps market the secrets of Dead Ball hitting that I've excavated. No, there's nothing new (nil novi) under the sun... but what a huge amount has been forgotten, in baseball and elsewhere!

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