The Counterpublic Papers vol. 5 no. 19

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I didn’t mention this here because life got away from me, got away from all of us really, but I put my name on a document signed by over 100 black scholars supporting Bernie Sanders. There would’ve been more but some folk thought were concerned about the effect such a document would have on their careers (not critiquing this, just stating it as a fact).

Adolph Reed and Willie Legette wrote a piece about “the black vote” and the South Carolina Primary. Long but worth reading because it gives you a sense of what’s at work above. I saw the exchange above shared twice by friends, and in conversations (one of them intense) with both of them it became really clear that we’ve a lot of work ahead of us.

Here’s what I mean.

I had those conversations after the virus hit. After it was clear that, to quote someone who I can’t remember, reality supports Sanders. All of the policies that Sanders supported are policies we are in dire need of. Further, the one real political position Biden had, that it was his role to get politics back to the way they used to be, is gone for good. Not that it was possible anyway, but within two weeks, GOP officials stated that they’d rather make voting as hard as possible (up to and including making tomorrow’s Wisconsin primary a vote in person primary) because not doing so would cause the GOP to lose…and then stated that they’re actually ok with large swaths of people dying if that means people are back to work. The GOP is a death cult. There really isn’t a normal path “back” to politics that would help us.

Now I don’t think Sanders is going to win. I think he should probably drop out sooner rather than later, at a moment of his own choosing. I’m not stating any of the above to state that Sanders should stick around or perhaps run on a third party ticket.

But Biden hasn’t moved appreciably to the left since the virus hit. He hasn’t significantly revisited any of the ideas he originally ran on.

Yet and still Briahna Gray is the problem. Not just among white centrist voters, which I could understand, but among black voters. Who are far more likely, no matter how much money they make, to be placed in harm's way by the virus.

I wrote about Rosa Parks in Knocking the Hustle as a way to talk about how the stories we tell about the civil rights movement are told in very specific ways so as to engender support for a political project. In the Parks case, telling the story that focuses on her being tired puts the focus on her and uses her as a stand in for a general “I can’t take it any more” sentiment that spontaneously developed a political revolution, as opposed to the more accurate story which places far more emphasis on institutional development and political radicalism.

Here’s what I didn’t write. Both Parks and King reproduced the simple narrative on purpose. Not just because they were afraid of being redbaited by the state. They were afraid that they would lose black community support if it looked as if Parks’ behavior was in fact planned. I don’t know whether would have happened…whether blacks would’ve taken the bus boycott idea and tossed it aside if they thought that the event was somehow organized.

But if there aren’t a set of pre-existing institutions that articulate a radically different set of politics than the standard narrative being shared, that include a radically different set of political solutions to currently existing problems…then how much harder is it to develop those radically different politics and solutions?

If you can’t agree with Briahna Gray about the need for universal healthcare in this moment because she may have offended a former political candidate….then when can you? If Biden or his surrogates can’t realize that over 10 million unemployment benefit applications suggests that perhaps we don’t need to rely on the employer for healthcare…when can he realize it?

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Wallace Roney and Ellis Marsalis both died last week as a result of coronavirus complications. Roney was probably the jazz trumpeter to come closest to understanding and performing Miles Davis’ work—I think Roney may have been the first trumpeter outside of Davis that reminded me of him. Marsalis is the single person most responsible for developing and then exporting the New Orleans jazz sound, doing this primarily as an educator rather than a performer or bandleader. Although Marsalis did tour, he was far more influential as an educator. Four of his six boys became jazz musicians of note (trumpeter Wynton, saxophonist Branford, trombonist Delfayo, drummer Jason), with two becoming some of the best of their era (and given their simultaneous mastery of classical music, any era). And there are a host of others (Harry Connick Jr immediately comes to mind, as does Nicholas Payton). There’s one particular album of Marsalis’ that I used to play every January because it reminded me so much of Winter—which is funny when I think about it, because there’s no way in hell Marsalis could’ve possibly known what it meant to live in much less survive through several, Michigan winters.

A day after his passing, maybe even the next morning, Wynton wrote a statement about his father. In fact let me back up. He wrote two statements. The first was brief, probably not long after it happened:

The second was longer, and more poignant. I’ll just take a few paragraphs:

My daddy was a humble man with a lyrical sound that captured the spirit of place--New Orleans, the Crescent City, The Big Easy, the Curve. He was a stone-cold believer without extravagant tastes.

Like many parents, he sacrificed for us and made so much possible. Not only material things, but things of substance and beauty like the ability to hear complicated music and to read books; to see and to contemplate art; to be philosophical and kind, but to also understand that a time and place may require a pugilistic-minded expression of ignorance.

His example for all of us who were his students (a big extended family from everywhere), showed us to be patient and to want to learn and to respect teaching and thinking and to embrace the joy of seriousness. He taught us that you could be conscious and stand your ground with an opinion rooted ‘in something’ even if it was overwhelmingly unfashionable. And that if it mattered to someone, it mattered.

I haven’t cried because the pain is so deep....it doesn’t even hurt. He was absolutely my man. He knew how much I loved him, and I knew he loved me (though he was not given to any type of demonstrative expression of it). As a boy, I followed him on so many underpopulated gigs in unglamorous places, and there, in the passing years, learned what it meant to believe in the substance of a fundamental idea whose only verification was your belief.

In the new world to come, the world we’ll play some part in creating….I think we would do well to pay heed to that last sentence.

I’ve more to write. A lot more. But I think I’ll end it there.

Stay safe. Hang on. We’re closer than we were two weeks ago.