Christianity has manifold resources for individuals who feel mired in sin who seek to repent and live a new life. As Kaari Aanestad pointed out in a wonderful article, this is not without problems, as it can keep individuals trapped in cycles of depression. But what about societies that are mired in sin, which as mass entities are unable to feel as individuals feel? And what about individuals within an unjust system who perpetuate it and benefit from the injustice, even though they did not create the system and by themselves are powerless to stop it? Is the language of sin and repentance effective for transforming societal sins? The works of Reinhold Niebuhr and Martin Luther King, Jr. suggest to me that it is not effective to indict large groups of people for sins they may perpetuate, but did not engender.
In Moral Man and Immoral Society, Niebuhr states that
“Individuals are never as immoral as the social situation in which they are involved and which they symbolize. If opposition to a system leads to personal insults of its representatives, it is always felt as an unjust accusation…An impartial teacher of morals would be compelled to insist on the principle of personal responsibility for social guilt. But it is morally and politically wise for an opponent not to do so.” (p. 248-49)
To support this assertion, he points to William Lloyd Garrison, whose fierce criticism of the evil of slaveowning merely “solidified the south in support of slavery.” (p. 248)
Martin Luther King, Jr, seemed to follow Niebuhr’s advice (with both men drawing also on the work of Gandhi). In “Give Us the Ballot,” he stresses that “our aim must never be to defeat or humiliate the white man…We must respond to every [court] decision with… an appreciation of the difficult adjustments that the court orders pose for them.”
Rather than calling on white moderates to lament their role in a racist system, he prays for them to have the courage to be strong leaders. The distinction is perhaps subtle, because strong leadership is the ultimate goal of repentance. The difference is that King focused on rallying to the correct way rather than criticizing the incorrect way.
The priests in Nehemiah 8 also take this strategy in orchestrating mass repentance:
“This day is holy to the Lord your God: you must not mourn or weep,” for all the people were weeping as they listened to the words of the Teaching. He further said to them, “Go, eat choice foods and drink sweet drinks…Do not be sad, for your rejoicing in the Lord is the source of your strength.”’
In Nehemiah, discovering the right way to live was not cause for contrition, but for celebration and action.
Fomenting transformation on a wide scale means calling people to their highest values, rather than excoriating their sins. Excoriating sins tends to alienate folk, and alienation does not create political will. Movements that build political will are not humble and contrite; they are strong because they are joyous. They are, in Heschel’s words, “spiritually audacious and morally grandiose.”
Religious leaders would do well to take the model of Niebuhr and King into consideration when participating in the Occupy Wall Street movement. The call of the 99% may be able to unite a vast array of folks, but it is predicated on calling the 1% to repent of their sins. As long as the 1% are made to be a sinful other, they can never have a place in the mission of the 99%. President Obama recognized this in his State of the Union address when he called on his fellow wealthy Americans to participate in a fairer economic system as one of the 1%. We need to imagine a vision of the 100%.
Niebuhr also recognized that those with privilege would not cede it unless forced to do so. To some extent, it is unrealistic to create a vision of social change in the hopes that it would appeal to the privileged. Nevertheless, the only way to approach a world of the 100%–in which common good is taken seriously by all, and giving to the poor is once again a shared virtue–is by having the imagination to conceive of it.
It is the duty of religion to provide such vision. The call of the 99% follows the Christian model of admonishing sinners to repent. We need to explode the limitations of that movement and provide a Nehemian vision, in which the community celebrates because together they have found a new way to live.
Bibliography:
Reinhold Niebuhr, Moral Man and Immoral Society (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1932).
Martin Luther King, Jr, “Give Us the Ballot,” in A Call to Conscience: The Landmark Speeches of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. by Clayborne Carson and Kris Shepard (New York, NY: Warner Books, 2001), pp. 43-56.
Image: Manasseh’s Sin and Repentance, courtesy of the Providence Lithograph Company, via Wikimedia Commons.
I tend to agree with the overall argument here. But, out of curiosity, how might you respond to someone who said something like the following:
“Listen, I’m not especially interested in whether the 1% can have a meaningful part in creating a more just society. I and others have been hurt by the 1%, whether they meant to or not, and I’m interested in repairing that hurt. I could frankly give a damn about the 1%’s feelings, or how they can participate. Haven’t they done enough?”
I ask this question because, as I say, I agree with your overall point– and yet, when I am confronted with questions such as the above, I find I have no satisfactory response. Surely it is not my place to judge or dismiss the feelings of the wounded Other? I may make them secondary if I judge they will prove antithetical to practically resolving the oppression they experience in the first place, but I don’t think I get to say they are wrong or irrelevant (not that you have said so; this is just my own musing.)
Rebecca,
Thank you for your point. I’m personally not terribly interested in whether or not I’m hurting the feelings of the 1%, or of white people, or anyone who is in the privileged group. What I’m most interested in is how to build an effective movement, based on the models of King and Gandhi and the reflections of Niebuhr. As I said in the article, it can be futile to worry about wooing the opposition, because they’re not going to give up their privilege in any case. Gandhi and King justified their lack of punitive rhetoric in part on the base that it corrupted the hearts of the people doing the accusing, and made them bitter instead of simply determined. This is also important for the sake of the bystanders who are not 1% but haven’t decided if they want to join in solidarity or not. Having a broad base means appealing to people who are not bitter and are not interested in becoming bitter.
I think the example of the white moderates King exhorted was a good one for this point. There aren’t so many millionaires running around, but there are a LOT of privileged white people who can be antiracist allies who are not there yet. There are a lot of people living unsustainably who can be brought aboard environmental causes. King knew that, and wanted to fire them up, and he knew incriminating them would not do the job.
Thanks so much for this piece, Kathryn! I really appreciate your attention to an expanded understanding of ‘sin’ as being not necessarily defined by shortcomings of individuals but actions of the collective. Your incorporation of Niebuhr, MLK Jr., and Nehemiah struck me as creative and very relevant. Very thought-provoking piece!
Kari,
Thank you for your thoughts! As I mentioned, your article on sin helped me in my thinking, as I took into account the wider social ramifications of depression.