Violence and Non-Violence

“We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp”— Toni Morrison

The debate on violence and non-violence is essentially a question on what it means to live an ethical life. To Martin Luther King, non-violence is a philosophy of being. It calls for faith in the “amazing potentialities for goodness” in all humans, where the means must justify the ends— indeed, they are the ends. In his speech on “Unfulfilled Dreams”, King preaches a philosophy whereby action and doing can exist merely within the realm of the internal self. If the act of fixing your heart is all you can find it in you to do, it’s enough. Non-violence is a “technique of action” involving intention.

But can the “boat of faith” get you through the storm on its own? After all, what does it really mean to do the right thing in the face of great wrong? First, we need to identify the wrong. For Malcolm X, the African-American problem, or as he would call it the “Negro problem”, is about a continuous investment that has been poured into the American landscape. It is an investment of blood. And if we are to take King’s conception of the means justifying the ends, then it is clear that this investment can only be made good in one way. Earlier in this course we talked about how if decolonization is a story of triumph, it is also a story of cracked skulls, broken bones and disappearances. Malcolm and King are both telling true stories— different, but true.

The stories of violence and non-violence do not need to exist in a binary; Malcolm X does not advocate needless violence in his speech, nor does King proposition passivity. But we must question what violence really is. If it is the intention to do harm, what happens when the underlying intention of a violent act is to reclaim what has been stolen from you? As Malcolm says, “how can you thank a man for giving you back what’s already yours?” An investment of blood has to be repaid in the same. And a belief in the “amazing potentialites of goodness” necessitates a recognition of the potentialities of evil. To me, the difference between non-violence and violence is not in the means through which the end is achieved, but in the site of action.

For Malcolm, there are physical, and therefore external, threats that must be recognized. It is a question of the ballot or the bullet, and this physical response of hitting back is an affirmation of his humanness, an inalienable quality. The struggle between good and evil is happening in front of his very eyes and he cannot turn the other cheek. To King, non-violence is a way of being. It transcends the colour line and manifests itself in the “story of life”. It’s a struggle, but one that happens within the self. He is not advocating a philosophy of turning the other cheek. Evil is real, but its also closer to home than you might think.

In Toni Morrison’s story of the blind woman, the children ask a very relevant question— “Is there no context for our lives?” Both Malcolm and King gave their lives to the struggle to build this context. And while Malcolm’s fiery speeches and luminescent persona reek of courage, there’s a lot to be said for the person, who, standing in the wake of unspeakable wrongs remains steadfast in one simple belief— the belief that, at the end of the day, goodness, and only goodness, will prevail. The philosophies of violence and non-violence discussed above do not exist in a parallel state to each other. They stretch through the constraints of the temporal into a time when Malcolm and King can turn to each other and say:

“Look. How lovely it is, this thing we have done – together.”

Tired of Living, Scared of Dying

The song Ol’ Man River, the first version of which was recorded in 1927 as part of the musical titled Show Boat, juxtaposes the endless flow of the Mississippi River with the struggles and hardships experienced by black Americans.

He must know somethin’
But don't say nothin’
He just keeps rollin'
He keeps on rollin' along

He don't plant tators
He don't plant cotton
Them that plants them 
Is soon forgotten

Oscar Hammerstein – the man who wrote the song

Perhaps one of the most surprising facts about this song is that it was written by a white man. This is important to note because of some of the language used, which makes it seem as if the lyricist has gone through the experience of slavery themselves.

You and me
We sweat and strain
Body all aching
And wracked with pain

I get weary
And sick of tryin'
Am tired of livin'
And scared of dyin'

This reminds me of our discussion on CLR James and the first chapter of The Black Jacobins, which offers a very detailed descriptive account of what it was like to be on a slave ship, despite him never having been on one himself. This raises questions of who should have the agency to comment on or describe experiences individuals haven’t gone through themselves, or in the case of Show Boat (which was both written and produced by white men, and based on a book by a white woman), to ‘appropriate’ black struggle for profit.

Theater, music, and other forms of art have played a very significant role in African Americans’ struggle for desegregation and the repealment of the Jim Crows laws. Show Boat, being the first racially integrated play (where both black and white actors appeared on stage together) ever performed in America and also being the first Broadway musical to depict an interracial marriage, is often considered an important production for the black movement. Despite its many critics, some of whom have valid concerns (such as Nourbese Philip’s claim that the play appropriates black music for the profit of the very people who oppressed blacks), Alan Berg’s description of the musical score being “a tremendous expression of the ethics of tolerance and compassion” is not inaccurate. Covers of the song Ol’ Man River by influential white artists, particularly by Frank Sinatra, enabled the message of the song (and the struggles of the African Americans) to get across to large white audiences it might not have been able to reach otherwise.

Jules Bledsoe – the artist who first recorded the song

The five renditions of the song that I listened to (which just happen to be across five decades) are as follows:
Jules Bledsoe - 1927 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mawj2HbZ3EA
Paul Robeson - 1936 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eh9WayN7R-s
Frank Sinatra - 1946 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTnw_MmVptQ
William Warfield - 1951 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSzYRo9j7YM (my personal favorite)
The Temptations - 1967 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JynlddDl-X4

Strange Fruit

Southern trees bearing strange fruit/Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots/Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze/Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant south/Them big bulging eyes and the twisted mouth/Scent of magnolia, clean and fresh/Then the sudden smell of burning flesh

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck/For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck/For the sun to rot, for the leaves to drop/Here is a strange and bitter crop

When Nina Simone sings, it is a lament for the South – a South that has allowed horror to root itself into the earth. One thousand, nine hundred and thirty reported lynchings is the total – slavery and violence, man’s cruelty to man, is now part of the South’s geography. The poem describes it so poignantly how nature, unable to comprehend such violence, is forced to accommodate such horror – to stand as a witness, to do all that it can do to what is left of the violence – the dead body. Nature is the only force that can look at so sick, so dead a thing hanging on a tree, and consider it some “strange fruit”. It’s a consequence of ignorance – lynching is not part of nature’s vocabulary. We, who have various words for various kinds of violence are not like her. Nature calls it by what she knows; a fruit – so strange, so bitter, something that doesn’t fit. It will attend to it, regardless of it’s difference – absorb it into the earth, let the elements merge them into one – the rain will gather it, the crows will eat from it. To us readers, listeners – who know, who are cursed to know the reality, the truth, we are ashamed by the haunting simplicity and perhaps, innocence of the description of the bodies, and the horror in the juxtaposition. We have defiled so beautiful a world – so much so that the scent of magnolias can exist alongside the smell of burning flesh.

I read up on who wrote the song to understand the poem better. Abel Metropole, a Russian Jewish immigrant to the Bronx, was a literature teacher who saw, one day in the news, a picture. A lynching in Marion, Alabama, that picture of Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith, both teenagers, hanging off the branches of a wide tree, their necks snapped, their eyes closed. That picture. They were dragged from jail and murdered by a wild, white mob, who, all together, are in the picture, too. Metropole, I sense through his poem, was struck by the sight of those boys who were hung, saw how the trees were made to carry the burden, the weight, of their bodies, and so, wrote this poem. And now, I understand why. He chose nature as his vantage point to look at the sight because nature is the only humane element in the picture itself.

The alternative are those who committed the violence. They are who I always focus on when I see the picture. What frightens me are those wild eyes, those smiling faces, who stand, relaxed, proud, below the hanging bodies, as though the sight is routine, as though they were captured strolling down the street. So lax, to casual, so matter of fact are they! What do they see? What do they think they’re doing? Men and women, together, they’re even wearing hats! One man points, resolute, at the figures above him, eyes dead into the camera, telling me, “This is who we are – this is we have done!” What is it you are trying to tell me, you – with your resolute finger? Why are you proud, you monster, you’re parading around death! To bear witness through poetry, I would not choose such figures as my vantage point.

Metropole is proof that men of heart, men who recognized the atrocity, existed at the time. His work is a profound act of empathy – that not only understands what kind of violence has been wrought, but seeks to tell it in a manner that adds beauty into the world – that depicts the lament, the moral outrage of the earth and those whose hearts are still in tune with it. Nina’s voice takes what Metropole created a step further – she turns it into a prayer, a mantra for healing, with her low, rich voice – a black woman’s voice, nature herself – deeply sorrowful, uncomprehending, but attending to her task. She sings to speak of the violence, but to also remind us that nature, that earth, is on the side of those who cannot comprehend the violence man creates, to heal those who are victims to it.

Redemption Song

Considered one of his seminal works, Bob Marley’s ‘Redemption Song,’ stands out amongst his other notable creations not just for its deviation from the usual themes of spirituality, love and remembrance that prevail in his earlier and most recognizable works, but also, and more importantly, for the peculiarity of its composition. Interestingly, the song shows no sign of the reggae style that is present in nearly all of his other music. Nor does it feature percussion or any accompaniment; rather, it is a stripped down solo acoustic recording, consisting only of his singing and strumming of an acoustic guitar, largely reminiscent of the sound and style of another Bob: Bob Dylan. Having returned to this song and to his music only now, years after my first listen, this was the first thought that came to my mind. Why did he choose for this song in particular a composition so stripped down and so unlike his usual style? A deeper reading into the song’s words, to which the lack of accompaniment shed an even greater light, may help in answering this question.

Old pirates, yes, they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit

The opening lyrics to the song, depicted above, are unmistakable in their reference to the abduction of African people into slavery. Robbed of their culture, sovereignty and their families, they were taken from the ‘bottomless pit’- referring to Africa in its entirety and to its abundance of peoples, cultures and resources. He goes on:

But my hand was made strong
By the hand of the Almighty
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly

Marley’s references to God are numerous and scattered throughout his music, but here he makes mention of ‘the Almighty’ to assert the new-found pride and strength that the Black spirit has gained, and is in the process of achieving. It is a line alluding to Black power, endurance and pride, and the progressive strides that they have made in recent times as a result of their own efforts and demonstrations- the end of slavery, and the civil rights movement-, with their final goal being total freedom from subjugation. Then comes the chorus:

Won’t you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
Cause all I ever have
Redemption songs
Redemption songs

When he talks of these ‘songs of freedom’, Marley is essentially asking the listener to join his cause; that is, the fight against racism, mental slavery and subjugation, with his goal being the emancipation and redemption of the Black race, and by extension, the emancipation of all those who have been subject to oppression or subjugation of any kind. The ‘songs of freedom,’ I believe, are a reference to this cause- the cause is all ‘I’ (or rather, ‘we’) have. Then come the most eminent lines of the song:

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds!

These lines were, in fact, derived from a speech delivered by Marcus Garvey in Sydney, Nova Scotia in 1937 titled ‘The Work That Has Been Done.’ The exact line from the speech is as follows:

“We are going to emancipate ourselves from mental slavery because whilst others might free the body, none but ourselves can free the mind.”

To understand better what Marley means when he talks about redemption and this concept of mental slavery, one can refer back to the same 1937 speech, from which the following lines (albeit, re-ordered) have been taken:

“God has given you intelligence to take care of you… When God made you He made you the masters of the world, not serfs and slaves, but your mind must be developed intelligently… We are looking for the redemption and the freedom of our homeland.”
“The white man is still doing research work with his mind. It has taken him to the bowels of the earth to extract what nature placed there for him. On that same intelligence he has gone into Heaven.”

In the same way that Garvey sees the potential in the Black race for achieving everything that the white race has, Marley is urging the listener to realize that emancipation is within reach, and can come about through the consciousness of one’s self and one’s circumstance. Mental slavery, according to Marley, is the real obstacle that stands in the way of progress; the fundamental slavery from which one must free oneself.

How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look?

The prophets being alluded to in this line are the black prophets involved in the struggle against oppression. Malcolm X and Martin Luther King are two notable examples, both of which who were singled out by the establishment and martyred by assassins, because of the threat they posed to unjust institutionalized power. Marley urges those who are listening to not let their sacrifices go in vain- that we should take up their struggle as our own, rather than passively stand by. Some readings of this line even consider Jesus to be one of the prophets that Marley is referring to.

Yes, some say it’s just a part of it
We’ve got to fulfill the book

I interpreted this line as the acceptance of, and internalization of oppression that some oppressed groups tend to give in to, believing in a divine master plan and a ‘promised’ redemption in the afterlife. It could also be referring to those who remain passive in their own oppression, delaying action until they receive a sign from some divine origin.

The song then goes back into the chorus once more, before ending on the words:

All I ever have
Redemption songs
These songs of freedom
Songs of freedom

The song has since been esteemed as ‘one of the songs that changed the world,’ and over 30 renditions of this song have been recorded since its release in 1980. It’s message of freedom, protest and positive change ring true and relevant to this day, exemplified by its prevalence in, and association with contemporary social movements and campaigns.

“I carried Bob Marley’s Redemption Song to every meeting I had with a politician, prime minister, or president. It was for me a prophetic utterance or as Bob would say ‘the small ax that could fell the big tree.’ The song reminded me that freedom always comes with a cost, but for those who would prepare to pay it, maybe ‘emancipation from mental slavery’ would be our reward.”

While writing this, I realized which Bob Dylan song I was reminded of upon hearing Marley’s Redemption Song. It was The Times They Are A-Changin’. Interestingly enough, both songs are about the progressive nature of time and a changing socio-political environment. Released against the backdrop of the Civil Rights movement, Dylan’s song refers consistently to the changing nature of race relations, and the positive change that a new generation is taking upon itself to bring about- the same way that Marley sings about moving forward (triumphantly) in this generation. As hypnotic and sombre as Dylan’s music tends to be, this particular song is hopeful in its allusion to the inevitability of positive change; for Marley, this change is manifest as emancipation and redemption. Both Dylan and Marley, one could say, are prophets of the same message.

MLK, Rigoberto and the Question of Violence

“My mother died in terrible agony. When my mother died, the soldiers stood over her and urinated in her mouth; even after she was dead!” – Rigoberto Menchu

I was first introduced to the realities of coloured folks through Rigoberto. She was my guide who led me into the lives of the colonized people, who have been long oppressed by the colonizers. These people were individuals like us who had a family with whom they could share their happiness and sorrows. The colonizers stripped her people off of any fragment of joy and hope they could latch onto. She wasn’t asking much. Her demand was simple: to be given her due rights. And as simple as this request was, it was very easily dismissed entirely and brutally.

It is this brutal dismissal of rights that have always called the individuals to rise up against the justices. When the pain inflicted becomes unbearable, those with the prophetic gaze extend their hand to take the victims out of their oppressed lives. Martin Luther King was also doing just that.

He understood the grievances of his people. He witnessed his black folk suffer at the hands of the white man. He knew what it feels “when you see vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you see hate filled policemen curse, kick brutalize and even kill your black brothers and sister with impunity.” And he was equally aware “that this community (of white men) has consistently refused to negotiate.

And yet, I still wonder how can MLK answer to this suffering be non-violence alone. Yes, the starting point should always be non-violence but history is a testament how the white has multiple times failed to pay heed to peaceful protests.

In a non-violent campaign, according to MLK, there are four steps namely “collection of the facts to determine whether injustices are alive, negotiation, self-purification, and direct action. “ For any successful campaign towards having your voice heard, I believe there is another step to MLK’s prescription and that is of violence.

I can not help but bring in Frantz Fanon who believed that the colonial rule is the, “is the bringer of violence into the home and into the mind of the native. Fanon did acknowledge that an individual is not inherently driven by it. It is not his intrinsic quality and that there are stages to it. However, a stage comes when violence becomes an essential condition. There is no choice but to speak the language of violence.

Dismissing violence, MLK believes that there are “amazing potentialities for goodness” in human nature. And we must deal peacefully to reach the opponent’s heart. But what good can be done to a heart that has hardened to the point that it refuses to acknowledge another person as human and grant his due rights. There may be potentialities for goodness, but it is useless if the enemies are not receptive to this goodness.

MLK is aware of this brutal reality. But perhaps this reality has not touched him the way it touched and affected people like Rigoberto. Her mother was raped multiple times. Her face was disfigured, cut and infected with worms. She was left to die under open air. Her brother was burnt alive. Her family’s body became the site for the display of the colonizers agony. Sure, the time in which MLK has lived is not colonized the way Rigoberto and Fanon’s world was. But, for me at least, their worlds might have changed but the reality has not changed. The black folks were suffering. And they are still suffering. They have a history that has scarred their lives deeply. And even though it may appear that their enemies will not burn them alive, but the potentiality is still there. Just like there is potentiality for goodness, there is possibility of evil too. The trauma is still there. And it is primarily because of this trauma, that I believe that we must not completely disregard violence. It should certainly be the last stage of any campaign. But it should be part of the campaign. I wonder if MLK would have the courage to look Rigoberto in the eye and tell her that non violence alone was the solution all this time.

Strange Fruit and Language

Nina Simone’s rendition of “Strange Fruit” is a memorably dramatic one. It is a rendition where strong and tactile poetry meets a raw, sharp and an almost unforgiving or callous voice. A voice determined to drive home the image of a tortured, dead black body, blood and the serene and beautiful landscape behind it. Simone called the song “ugly” and it is- in the pain that it makes a listener relive and in the beauty of its ability to become immortal, to latch itself onto the world. Abel Meeropol’s poetry becomes language that is truly alive, that leaves no room for lies, that which shows all reality- whether real or imagined. As Toni Morrison showed us, this poetic language becomes “the measure of our lives”, that which really and truly is.

Here one can see language as not just a “system” or a source of “agency” but as a living, breathing phenomenon as Morrison describes. It has a heart, an inside that protects human potential, the place where the meaning of humanity lives. And thus, like all other living things, language too can die. Language too can be tortured, mistreated, ignored, mutilated, caged, killed, protected, loved or made to live on. Language gives humans the “access” to what is left of “human instincts”, and because it has a heart that houses that instinct, language itself is a human instinct. Language itself is the beating or dead heart, the inside. That is why oppressive language “is oppressive”. This is a place where words cease to be a reflection of human thoughts and feelings but become them, with the living, throbbing capacity to create and destroy, to live and die. With a life of its own, language, in all capacities, does not only create its own path but is one. It does not only create a human but becomes one. A Narrative, therefore, creates us the “moment it is being created”.

This is why it is naturally inclined to let its words move towards the place in the human heart to which they really are meant to go to. It “arcs towards the place where meaning may lie.” Somewhere along that movement, that journey is often intercepted- language is made incapable of completing that journey. But Morrison shows us that this does not change the reality of language’s endeavor- to “surge towards knowledge, not destruction.” One may understand poetic language to make the same endeavors, to live in the hope and struggle to say what has to be said in just the way it has to be said. The essence of its life lies in its attempt to “limn the actual, imagined and possible”- all as equally real and meaningful narratives.

The lyrics of “Strange Fruit” encapsulate this reality of the real, the imagined and the possible. It begins by playing with “strange fruit” and “black body”, jolting one into experiencing how language can interweave reality and imagination, emphasizing the sheer truth of both. The imagery is vivid and meant to disturb- meant to make one hear the resonating silence of a breezy afternoon, the blood, and the breeze. It is meant to make one experience both- the calmness, the silent pastoral landscape, the rhythmic swinging and breeze and the central presence of death, injustice, torture and pain. The sense of tranquility and the notion of human undoing rest within each other. The magnolia is only sensed if one senses the “burning flesh”. The black, hanging bodies, or the “crop”, create the rhythmic swinging. The breeze delivers the smell of blood smeared on the leaves and the roots of trees. The tranquility and the brokenness are inseparable. It is here that language fuses the real and the imagined together. We, inhumane humans, who enjoy the breeze and the blood together. It is all real.

A photograph of the lynching of two African-American men inspired these words. Yet the poetry recreates not just the painfully normalized phenomenon of lynching, but also the heart of that pain. It no longer matters whether a photograph or a real sight inspires it, or whether bodies or fruits hung from the southern trees. What matters is the inescapable, the piercingly real reality of the pain and the peace. In essence, if language dies, if its heart dies, so do we humans because we will no longer say or mean the things we are supposed to say, the things that have a meaning and emanate life. Whether what hung from the trees were just crops or bodies, the poetic language said what it needed to say. It showed its heart, the peace and the pain, the inside- here, the desensitivity. Thus, with a true understanding of the heart comes the power to choose to heal. In essence, Morrison shows the true heart of language and humanity- the power and beauty of being what you may be and still healing. As Morrison’s old, blind woman would have meant- to kill the bird or to let it fly.

Unfulfilled Dreams in Freedom

Listening to all the songs in the playlist, immediately took me back to the speech ‘Unfulfilled Dreams’ by MLK. Every song talks of a struggle, whether it names it or not. The emotions that the songs evoke immediately make one think of the change that they strive towards. From the oldest songs such as ‘Strange Fruit ’and ‘Old man River’ to the point of ‘This is America’ and ‘We are here’ one sees the lasting struggle. Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change is Gonna Come’ walks you through the labour of this struggle. Even towards the end of the songs, even after questioning himself, he talks about how he will still carry on because the change is gonna come. This reminds one of MLK when he says that even throughout the reality that the dream might be left unfulfilled you go on. On the other hand the song ‘Old Man River’ talks about a person’s weariness in this long striving which compares it to the Mississippi river that it seems to continue. It continues till the present.

This is true as the struggle is still relevant, the content of the struggle might change but it is still there as shown by the songs of ‘This is America’ which focuses on gun violence and the reality of being black in the United States. Numerous other songs refer to racial profiling and one can understand the historical importance of black representation in the movies like ‘Black Panther’

This struggle has grown beyond that of the civil rights movement or for what MLK or Malcolm X stood for, this struggle is the one of freedom and peace that is defined by Ella baker in her speech. Ella baker explains how peace is not the absence of struggle but the presence of justice and a struggle for freedom that encompasses the whole mankind and so gives her reason as to why those were not the last stages of the struggle. In ‘We Are Here’ Alicia keys mentions Baghdad and Gaza as well, which shows that this effort for rights is not limited on terms of race or colour or nationality. It’s a horizontal solidarity which exists in Ella Baker’s definition of Freedom.

Hence, each of the songs and the artists take the unfulfilled dreams of the previous generation, build up on it and move forward in creating the ‘temple’ that Martin Luther King Jr. talks about, so that one day the change will come.

Hurricane

This essay will connect Bob Dylans Hurricane (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpZvg_FjL3Q) to “A report from occupied territory” by James Baldwin.

Hurricane can serve two purposes when hearing it in light of James Baldwins “Occupied Territory”, it can serve as another example of an African American man going through institutional racism and its harrowing repercussions. It also illustrates the underlying assumption of the African American being violent, as well as the tacit support of society. Baldwin points to the many injustices that are committed by racist institutions, such as presumed guilt, torture, wrongful arrest and conviction. Hurricane plays on the same themes, with Rubin Carter wrongfully convicted for a crime he didn’t commit.

Both Dylan and Baldwin illustrate the stereotype and subsequent expectation of crime with the African American. The identity of the African American is once again tied with negative characteristics; lying, stealing and murdering are made synonymous with blackness. The underlying assumption in the institutional racist acts is that it is likely a black man has committed the crime, because he is inherently violent and prone to crime. We see this negation of identity in both pieces and the creation of this expectation in all society, pervading even Black communities.

In Hurricane we see the manifestation of this expectation:

To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum

And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger

No one doubted that he pulled the trigger

Similarly Baldwin alludes to the “Bad nigger”, who the police supposedly clean the streets of. However these archetypes are created by the police, who charge innocent individuals; by segregation, which robs the African American community from quality education and jobs. Systematic causes are entirely ignored in the expression of these racist expectations. This institutional discrimination is what Dylan and Baldwin want to expose. Similarly Baldwin’s trip to Washington also illustrates this point, where the question is implicitly posed:

Do you think any of those unemployed, unemployable Negroes who are going to be on the streets all summer will cause us any trouble?

Through these examples we can see the expectation that pervades society; it is what causes police officers, judges and juries to maliciously indict the African American. This expectation also causes both “black and white folks” to believe that those wrongly blamed have likely committed this crime. Baldwin and Dylan shed light not only on police brutality and biased trials but also on the false expectations that underpin these atrocities. The Harlem Six, Rubin Carter and the African American community face these discriminations because the African American identity in the eyes of America still is still linked to crime and violence. Dylan and Baldwin try to subvert this expectation.

Additionally Dylan more explicitly points to the silence of those around the victim. The police feed words into the mouth of Bradley by asking:

Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin’ that night?

Similarly

The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed

And the all-white jury agreed

We can see the ubiquity of this expectation yet there is a hesitation that exists, an encouraging disbelief. Despite this doubt there is still silence by all those around the wrongly convicted. Instead of acting on this doubt, they facilitate the atrocities. Dylan points at the complicity of society, an idea Baldwin does not make explicit. Therefore we can take Hurricane as an extension of the charges that Baldwin levies. Perhaps the reason Baldwin does not go further is due to his race. Baldwin is reviewing a white author’s book, but it is possible that the intense scrutiny and repression against black civil rights leaders forced a lighter tone on his part. Dylan on the other hand is allowed the leeway to freely critique all who stand silently. The same level of measure is not required for Dylan, as is for Baldwin, which is why Hurricane can serve as a necessary extension of “A report from occupied territories”.

The breaking of this silence is what enables the widespread repudiation of the stereotypes that exist for the African American community. The redefinition of the African American identity is still an ongoing process. One which is unfortunately still tainted by these racist notions, however the silence must be broken.

Let my people go!

The widespread fanbase of classic rock and roll owes its very existence to the African American community and the culmination of their expression in the form of music. That music which the world had the good fortune of hearing forms the premise of the platform on which later artists like Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones etc. stood. If it were not for Willie Dixon’s masterpiece You Need Love and Muddy Water’s excellent performance, Led Zeppelin would not have topped the charts with Whole Lotta Love. This far reaching influence of African American music, however, is not limited to the evolution of blues and jazz but rather the love it propagates. That love which despite suffering centuries of cruelty, still manages to seep through. Louis Daniel Armstrong’s music has moved generations to tears. His rendition of Go Down Moses is an integral part of the beautiful mosaic formed by what we know as ‘protest music’.

The reference to Exodus, the migration of the people of Israel out of Egypt after years of lying crushed beneath the Pharaoh’s jackboot, to link the biblical event to the conditions of the African American community in the United States might be obvious. However, the shocking jolt of the words “Let my people go!” from Armstrong is not a reminder of the violent death of the Egyptian host under the crushing waves of the Red Sea. It sounds more like a peaceful call for freedom than anything. It is here where the true beauty of the song lies. The centuries of bondage, one would think, would serve to create nothing but raw loathing. However, Armstrong’s vocal performance of “Let my people go” is anything but. The calls for a savior along the lines of Moses, the migration of millions of African Americans to the northern states, the blazing hot summers of Texas to the serene, green and cool environment of Connecticut are all mental images that cross one’s mind throughout the song.

Unlike Exodus, however, the song is not a reference to the biblical wrath of God. It is neither a reference to African American wrath. It is a mere expression of the conditions of oppression of the black community in America through the most beautiful genre of music ever known to man through the sweet voice of Louis Daniel Armstrong. The piano tones down the intensity in the lyrics at points and the perfect harmony between the instruments and Armstrong’s vocals serve to create one of the most beautiful songs that rose from the tragic silencing of black voice and floated across the world, touching the hearts of millions and inspiring others to do the same later when the conditions of the Vietnam War became public. A story for a later time.

A Change is Gonna Come

Oh I know change gonna come, yes it will
This song illustrates a strong belief that the present condition and way of life is something that will inevitably change. Sam Cooke does not talk about how or when but he just knows that it will. This sentiment can be understood in relation to Martin Luther King’s ‘Unfulfilled dreams’.
King claims that life is a succession of unfulfilled and broken dreams. He also talks about the ‘ethical life’, a right way to live but living ethically does not guarantee the successful realization of dreams or even a proper, satisfying end or answer and this is a realization that one must live with. However, this realization is not something which should stop one from dreaming or eliminate the desire to pursue dreams or to live an ethical life. It is a burden that must be carried by those who dream of emancipation.
Basically MLK advocates acting ethically in recognition of the fact that there is no end and that you may never live to see or experience you goal of emancipation and freedom but nevertheless, one must continue walking down the ethical path with the burden of this recognition. Further, to live ethically is to live lovingly and to live lovingly is to live vulnerably since to love, one must open their heart up others and that opens up the possibility of hurt. But one must be prepared to live with possibility of heart break and eternal despair and that is what is MLK’s ethic of emancipation. However, the heaviness of this burden and the hopelessness of the mission begs the question, ‘why’? What can be salvaged by this? For MLK it is heart, the human soul, humanity. If one’s conception of freedom is love and idea of emancipation of restoring human beings to themselves, then the end result becomes irrelevant and so living with this burden ceases to be a hopeless. In fact, one begins to live on the force of a strong hope.
Sam Cooke’s song is a reflection of the same ethic. He talks about his current miserable state of affairs, ‘I go to the movie and I go downtown somebody keep tellin’ me don’t hang around’,’ Then I go, oh-oo-oh, to my brother and I say, brother, help me please but he winds up knocking me back down on my knees, oh’ but still lives with the firm belief in a hopeful future and so towards the end of the song he says, ‘There’ve been times that I thought I couldn’t last for long but now I think I’m able to carry on’. The hope for the future is what keeps him going, despite not knowing if he will ever live to see it. In other words, he is at peace with his position in the ‘not yet’ only because he believes in the ‘will be’.