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by Robert Jensen
In a world of spin, no one expects truth from corporate executives or the
politicians who serve them, but many of us hold out hope that in the
classroom and sanctuary we can engage one another honestly in the
struggle to understand the world and our place in it. So, while I’ve had
my share of squabbles with schools and churches over the years, I remain
committed to them as important truth-seeking institutions.
As a university professor who has recently returned to church membership,
I have a lot riding on those hopes, which is why it was particularly
disappointing in recent weeks to be scheduled for speaking engagements
and then abruptly canceled by a Catholic diocese and a private high
school in Texas. In both cases, some people in the institutions were
eager to have me share my knowledge and experiences, only to have the
leadership give in to complaints from conservatives.
My disappointment wasn’t personal -- I’ve been rejected enough to be able
to roll with these punches -- but about a concern for the future if the
institutions we count on to create space for dialogue are so easily
cowed. The problem isn’t that I lost chances to speak, but that everyone
lost a chance for engagement.
The first cancellation came from the Diocese of Victoria in September.
Staff members organizing the annual “Conference for Catechesis and
Ministry” asked if I would lead one session on media coverage of the
Middle East and another on strategies for speaking with children about
war. I signed on immediately, grateful for the opportunity to discuss
these important issues.
After the conference schedule circulated, staff members heard from a
conservative member of the diocese who objected on the grounds I am
politically radical (true enough), anti-American (a nonsensical charge),
and a promoter of anti-Catholic teachings (true, if one thinks that all
Catholics who support the full humanity of gay/lesbian people and
advocate abortion rights are anti-Catholic, too). The threat that this
person’s campaign would spark public protests led the diocese to retract
the invitation.
Last week I received a similar call from an administrator at St. Mary’s
Hall, a college-preparatory day school in San Antonio. I had been asked
to speak about power and privilege, drawing on my book on race and
racism. I was looking forward to talking with young people about an
important subject, but once again a complaint about my political writings
and activism against U.S. policy led administrators to cancel my
talk.
In both cases, of course I can’t know exactly what was behind these
decisions. I assume the folks in charge decided it was safer to exclude
someone with left/radical politics than to risk the backlash from more
centrist and conservative constituencies. But I didn’t give the
cancellations much thought until last week at the end of a long evening
at a private school in California, where I had been invited to speak
about power and privilege. When the formal program ended, a dozen people
lingered, and we pulled chairs into a circle to continue the conversation
about race and gender, capitalism and empire.
When I finally suggested that I was running out of steam and should head
toward my hotel and bed, one of the parents from the school said, “I
realize you are tired, but I would stay here all night if I could -- I’m
so hungry for this kind of conversation.”
That remark led to more talk about how these conversations are too rare
in a depoliticized society where so many people are afraid to speak their
minds. Others agreed that they wished for more spaces to talk honestly
about fundamental questions: What it means to be a person in a complex
world, to be a U.S. citizen in a time of imperial war, to be materially
comfortable in a world where so many lived without the basics.
I can understand why church and school administrators would take the safe
route and cancel a talk by me to avoid potential conflict; I don’t feel
any personal resentment or hold any grudges.
But I can’t help but be disappointed in those officials, not for denying
me the chance to speak but denying others a space in which collectively
we can struggle to get closer to the truth. Who among us is not hungry
for that? Even those who wanted to silence me -- at some level don’t they
yearn for that conversation?
As a university professor and freelance writer who is active in a variety
of political movements, I will never lack for spaces in which I can be
heard. I’m worried not about myself but about that man who was so starved
for ethical and political engagement that he was willing to stay in that
room all night to have that taste of an honest conversation about issues
that are so difficult and so important.
When such space for engagement is gone, what hope is there for faith and
education? Indeed, what hope is there for democracy?
Robert Jensen is a journalism professor at the University of Texas at
Austin and board member of the Third Coast Activist Resource Center
http://thirdcoastactivist.org. He is the author of The Heart of
Whiteness: Race, Racism, and White Privilege and Citizens of the
Empire: The Struggle to Claim Our Humanity (both from City Lights
Books); and Writing Dissent: Taking Radical Ideas from the Margins to
the Mainstream (Peter Lang). He can be reached at
rjensen@uts.cc.utexas.edu
.
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