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Hope and History: Why We Must Share the Story of the Movement
An impassioned call to the clergy, community activists, and educators to remember and keep alive the story of the black-led freedom movement. Harding argues the importance of knowing for ourselves, incorporating into our lives, and teaching to others the events and goals of this historic movement.
249 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 1990
About the author
Vincent Harding
39 books22 followersVincent Gordon Harding (PhD in History, University of Chicago) was an African-American historian and a scholar of various topics with a focus on American religion and society. A social activist as well, he was perhaps best known for his work with and writings about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whom Harding knew personally. Besides having authored numerous books such as There Is A River, Hope and History, and Martin Luther King: The Inconvenient Hero, he served as co-chairperson of the social unity group Veterans of Hope Project and as Professor of Religion and Social Transformation at Illiff School of Theology in Denver, Colorado.
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April 9, 2020
An explosive read - akin to when I got my hands on bell hooks' essays on teaching and community, and on Malcolm X's autobiography. I mean explosive in my reading (I read it in a day), not explosive in Harding's writing. He does not incinerate. He celebrates - the Movement, the leaders, the courage. Through Harding's hope, and in tandem of my reading James Loewen's Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong and Sara Schwebel's Child-Sized History: Fictions of the Past in U.S. Classrooms, I continue to see, with increasing clarity, how the 1950-, '60-, '70- and '80- expansion of American democracy took place.
About that "tandem" reading: it has only taken me the beginning of Loewen's and Schwebel's respective books to see how corrupt, criminal and devastating most history textbooks can be. To be used in a public school classroom, a history textbook needs to be adopted ("approved") by a state; in order to be approved, the textbook must do more than not offend - it must appease - the powers that be. The quickest way to adoption means painting a patriotic history of triumph, skipping over the exciting truths for boring half-truths. It's a given that students would be disinterested in that kind of neutered history. And, worse, it's a shame that students believe those histories to be true. There are alternatives: Schwebel writes about the power of historical fiction. When a student can place herself into the story, great potential presents itself. The bridge to the past is built with empathy, questioning, criticism - a level of engagement that does not come from a textbook's half-truth biography of a U.S. President, like Woodrow Wilson, that paints him as the embodiment of democratic leadership (Loewen's early example).
Any true history about the expansion of democracy is, in its very nature, offensive. The freedom movement was offensive to the status quo. The movement was also essential to the building of a more perfect union (so, should I say the "status quo of the 1950s was offensive to true democracy?"). I could go on sentimentalizing, but that would pull me away from Harding and his impact on me. I'll finish this aside with a connection I made from Harding's essays to another "offensive" leader: while serving his 27 years in prison, Nelson Mandela wrote to his wife, Winnie, in 1975: "Never forget that a saint is a sinner who keeps on trying. ...No ax is sharp enough to cut the soul of a sinner who keeps on trying, one armed with the hope that he will rise and win in the end." Any history textbook that describes Mandela (or John Lewis, or even John Carlos and Tommie Smith) as simply a hero misses the struggle, transformations and weight of their lives.
Harding's approach is different than Schwebel's - he doesn't advocate for historical fiction (not in his essays, at least), he offers us true stories, many of them followed up with parenthetical questions that invite (challenge) us to higher learning. A favorite of mine, from Essay 4, Fighting for Freedom with Church Fans: To Know What Religion Means:
"As we reflect on the post-World War II African-American freedom movement, nothing illustrates this powerful gathering and affirming tendency more fully than the vibrant interfaith mass meetings that were held at the height of the southern movement. Scenes from such explicitly religious (but not sectarian) meetings in Albany, Georgia, Birmingham, Alabama, Greenwood, Mississippi, and other similar settings are captured with great power in the Eyes on the Prize series and elsewhere. But many of our students of every chronological age will need us to help interpret the unfamiliar images, to call their attention to both the seen and unseen elements of the often ecstatic meetings. (Religious ecstasy in the midst of a dangerous socio-political freedom movement? What does that mean? Is it possible? Perhaps the deeper question is this: Can there be any real movement to freedom without deep ecstasy?) For they were meetings, deep engagements with things visible and invisible, with other human beings, both friends and oppressors, with fears and exultations. Sometimes they seemed to be great wrestling meetings between our lesser and better selves, shout-pierced, wing-spread engagements between humble men and women of the earth and the exalted spirits of the universe."
How essential and powerful a role that "faith" played in the movement. More so than any secular textbook will explain (or, most likely, leave out). Present in the meetings Harding describes above, imbedded in the songs, flexing in the interlocked arms of marchers was the faith - in God, in nonviolence, in progress - they shared. From Essay 5, God's Appeal to This Age: The Search for Alternatives to Violence, Harding's awe is evident in his first three words:
"It is amazing, isn't it, where a bus boycott can take us if we allow ourselves to be gathered into the center of the movement? In this way we understand anew the power, courage, and creativity of those who were willing to absorb hatred and violence for the sake of a transformed society in which hatred and violence would continuously be diminished through audacious non-violent struggle. From this perspective we can understand and convey the essential strength and courage of the citizens of Lowndes County, Alabama, who faced one day the shotgun-carrying sheriff's demand to turn around and give up their persistent quest for the right to vote. In the light of that county's history of white sheriffs, their guns, and what they had done to Black people, we may be able to understand and communicate the grandeur of the simple story told by a SNCC worker accompanying the citizens. When the sheriff ordered them to go home, one of those attempting to register to vote said to the SNCC organizer, "We ain't going nowhere today. If we back up now, we'll be backing up for the next hundred years." And soon all the people who had come to register started saying, "We ain't going nowhere today. You're going to have to kill us right here." Armed only with their courage, refusing for many reasons to pick up the weapons of their oppressors, the man and his companions stood their ground and were eventually able to move forward in ways that surprised even them. With the help of SNCC, they created a county-wide independent political party and chose as its emblem the defiant black panther that would shortly thereafter inspire Huey Newton and Bobby Seale to name their new organization the Black Panther Party. (99-100)."
"Amazing," indeed, is this "simple story" - one that needs to be shared with students. What an inspiring display of defiance (what an example of "offensive" citizenship) that many a teenager could draw parallels to their own life. History isn't secular, nor is it boring. Enough with the half-truths and misinterpretations, like how the Black Panthers were considered a militant group. That is only part of the story - that white America and the media cling to. The Black Panther Party for Self-Defense were born out of "one of the most obvious and ancient manifestations of democratic responsibility...the establishment of control and protection for one's own community" (42-43). They're portrayed and remembered (by white America) as gun-carrying criminals. They should be seen more fully, and questions will help build that complete vision: what was the historical context that led to their formation? What were they resisting? What do the assassinations of freedom movement leaders have to do with the Panthers' rise? What were the policies of the Oakland Police Department in the '60s -- which citizens did they serve; which ones did they unjustly target? Who was making the policing policy decisions, further up the line of power?
Harding inspires my questions, as he highlights 13 elements of the movement ("The Black Panthers and Community Control" serving as the ninth window) in Essay 2, Advanced Ideas about Democracy: Rediscovering Humanity's Great Lessons at Home:
"But the story must not be taken out of the context of the struggle for democracy. For the Panther experience provides important resources of exploring the harsh but crucial relationships among race (and racism), the quest for local community control, and the search for the expansion of democracy among an economically, politically, and racially constricted people. For many persons at the time -- and since then - the Panthers were central to the larger question of how people can break out of the subtle and overt structures of an internal colonialism to find the life-nurturing spaces of democracy. As a result, we must also ask: How shall we best evaluate a movement that encouraged young Black urban males to see themselves not simply as victims but as prime actors in the unfolding drama of the transformation of America and the world?" (43-44)
So any discussion about the Panthers needs to include that context of a White Supremacist-led America (bell hooks has helped me better understand it as "imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy"). There is much in a name - Harding points out, and challenges us to discover how Malcom X and Muhammad Ali, among many others, transformed into theirs. Historical context is the key - as 'Foundations of Modern Education' Bank Street professor regularly reminded my classmates and me. And yet, historical context is not a given. It takes time - through one's research - to increase one's awareness, to be hip to one's history and overcome inherent ignorance.
That ignorance can be a threat to democracy: where was my hunger to learn about the armies of nonviolent protestors when I decided to sign up for Officer Candidate School? How did I confront toxic masculinity when I joined (and later went on to lead) a fraternity? What population do I serve in my work as a private school educator?
These questions are not meant to be fueled by Catholic Guilt (or White Guilt) - though I would be remiss to deny that there is guilt behind them. Instead, I seek to confront my past, for these experiences make up who I am in 2018, and who I will be tomorrow. The goal is to bring clarity to my purpose, reflecting on what I once thought it to be since I first started considering I have a purpose. I begin to wrap up this email with a couple more personal questions:
Re: Overland, National Parks, Class.
I once tried to justify my job with Overland by saying that it's OK that the children of the richest families in our country can go on a cross-country bike trip. A mentor pointed out to me that failure for these children means something very different than failure for children of lower-class families. I think I know what that means now: children with privilege can afford to fail, insofar as there is a tremendous safety net that will continually help prop them back up after each failure. They can "take their time" through school with a gap year, or a dropped semester, or a NOLS trip due to the access they have that comes with inherited wealth. The systems they move through (St. Paul's, Amherst, etc) are also built for their success. So it's no wonder that a student from a disadvantaged background goes through culture shock when they arrive at a campus like Amherst that is steeped in a legacy that is threatening to their very existence (I pick on Amherst here as opposed to a place like UMass because I want to own up to my own wake, not pretend that the institutions in my wake are unblemished). Amherst is certainly improving, to be sure - I think about the library sit-ins, I think about my mentor professor, I think about the mascot change. Its blind-spots are being seen, becoming moments of introspection and positive change.
Overland, on the other hand, is the whitest of the whitest. I discovered a passion - and a love - for wilderness places as I led Overland trips through them. I do owe Overland for those opportunities. And yet, like St. Paul's and Amherst, natural spaces are not equitable in their access. The National Parks are among the whitest places in our country, despite their being sanctioned off for all Americans to enjoy. I believe in them - in their restorative nature and in their calming influence precisely because I have been restored and calmed by them. I do know that these wild places are not usually looked at as restorative for Blacks: many painful memories come from remote wilderness places. How would a Black person feel safe - nevermind restored -- in a National Park that is filled with White people? Indeed, I see how White my own perception of these parks is.
But Vincent Harding gave me hope. In Essay 11, One Final, Soaring Hope: Building the Campgrounds of Renewal, I see the potential that natural places can have for higher learning and community. Harding's ideal classroom includes nature and different generations. His wilderness retreat would focus on Eyes on the Prize, and generations would watch, discuss and engage with the film together. His vision echoes my own experiences in nature:
In such a setting, with the fresh air of life intoxicating us, with demanding work to engage and reward us, with time for play and quietness, it might be possible to discover together a set of new life-affirming possibilities for some of them, for some of us. Indeed, in such an unfamiliar setting we might even stumble upon new models of teaching, learning, and hope, and set them loose across this nation like dancing tongues of fire, networks of purifying flame.
But first, before the fire: After the first few difficult, exploratory days, I see us sitting together, watching one segment of Eyes each day, discussing the films in small groups, working with the images and messages formally and informally, during meals and work and play. I hear us, feel us, moving continually toward the key questions: What did these earlier, historic experiences mean for the people who lived through them, and what meaning can we make for ourselves now, and in the days that follow these, the daunting days when we must leave this hidden place? (191).
What a vision - and one that I would love to be a part of in real life. Such a retreat would be a tremendous privilege, and a powerful opportunity to build community. What I've felt in nature - be it on a hike, or around a campfire, or atop a mountain - is perspective. Such settings invite vulnerability - or a level of honesty that I normally hide from the world. Nature's power becomes evident when youth put their guards down to reach a vulnerable state of self-discovery. In New York City, where space is limited, where one's credibility is constantly being threatened, where the park's basketball court serves as the place to either win one's respect or lose it -- how does a young person see their world? How do they view their purpose?
About that "tandem" reading: it has only taken me the beginning of Loewen's and Schwebel's respective books to see how corrupt, criminal and devastating most history textbooks can be. To be used in a public school classroom, a history textbook needs to be adopted ("approved") by a state; in order to be approved, the textbook must do more than not offend - it must appease - the powers that be. The quickest way to adoption means painting a patriotic history of triumph, skipping over the exciting truths for boring half-truths. It's a given that students would be disinterested in that kind of neutered history. And, worse, it's a shame that students believe those histories to be true. There are alternatives: Schwebel writes about the power of historical fiction. When a student can place herself into the story, great potential presents itself. The bridge to the past is built with empathy, questioning, criticism - a level of engagement that does not come from a textbook's half-truth biography of a U.S. President, like Woodrow Wilson, that paints him as the embodiment of democratic leadership (Loewen's early example).
Any true history about the expansion of democracy is, in its very nature, offensive. The freedom movement was offensive to the status quo. The movement was also essential to the building of a more perfect union (so, should I say the "status quo of the 1950s was offensive to true democracy?"). I could go on sentimentalizing, but that would pull me away from Harding and his impact on me. I'll finish this aside with a connection I made from Harding's essays to another "offensive" leader: while serving his 27 years in prison, Nelson Mandela wrote to his wife, Winnie, in 1975: "Never forget that a saint is a sinner who keeps on trying. ...No ax is sharp enough to cut the soul of a sinner who keeps on trying, one armed with the hope that he will rise and win in the end." Any history textbook that describes Mandela (or John Lewis, or even John Carlos and Tommie Smith) as simply a hero misses the struggle, transformations and weight of their lives.
Harding's approach is different than Schwebel's - he doesn't advocate for historical fiction (not in his essays, at least), he offers us true stories, many of them followed up with parenthetical questions that invite (challenge) us to higher learning. A favorite of mine, from Essay 4, Fighting for Freedom with Church Fans: To Know What Religion Means:
"As we reflect on the post-World War II African-American freedom movement, nothing illustrates this powerful gathering and affirming tendency more fully than the vibrant interfaith mass meetings that were held at the height of the southern movement. Scenes from such explicitly religious (but not sectarian) meetings in Albany, Georgia, Birmingham, Alabama, Greenwood, Mississippi, and other similar settings are captured with great power in the Eyes on the Prize series and elsewhere. But many of our students of every chronological age will need us to help interpret the unfamiliar images, to call their attention to both the seen and unseen elements of the often ecstatic meetings. (Religious ecstasy in the midst of a dangerous socio-political freedom movement? What does that mean? Is it possible? Perhaps the deeper question is this: Can there be any real movement to freedom without deep ecstasy?) For they were meetings, deep engagements with things visible and invisible, with other human beings, both friends and oppressors, with fears and exultations. Sometimes they seemed to be great wrestling meetings between our lesser and better selves, shout-pierced, wing-spread engagements between humble men and women of the earth and the exalted spirits of the universe."
How essential and powerful a role that "faith" played in the movement. More so than any secular textbook will explain (or, most likely, leave out). Present in the meetings Harding describes above, imbedded in the songs, flexing in the interlocked arms of marchers was the faith - in God, in nonviolence, in progress - they shared. From Essay 5, God's Appeal to This Age: The Search for Alternatives to Violence, Harding's awe is evident in his first three words:
"It is amazing, isn't it, where a bus boycott can take us if we allow ourselves to be gathered into the center of the movement? In this way we understand anew the power, courage, and creativity of those who were willing to absorb hatred and violence for the sake of a transformed society in which hatred and violence would continuously be diminished through audacious non-violent struggle. From this perspective we can understand and convey the essential strength and courage of the citizens of Lowndes County, Alabama, who faced one day the shotgun-carrying sheriff's demand to turn around and give up their persistent quest for the right to vote. In the light of that county's history of white sheriffs, their guns, and what they had done to Black people, we may be able to understand and communicate the grandeur of the simple story told by a SNCC worker accompanying the citizens. When the sheriff ordered them to go home, one of those attempting to register to vote said to the SNCC organizer, "We ain't going nowhere today. If we back up now, we'll be backing up for the next hundred years." And soon all the people who had come to register started saying, "We ain't going nowhere today. You're going to have to kill us right here." Armed only with their courage, refusing for many reasons to pick up the weapons of their oppressors, the man and his companions stood their ground and were eventually able to move forward in ways that surprised even them. With the help of SNCC, they created a county-wide independent political party and chose as its emblem the defiant black panther that would shortly thereafter inspire Huey Newton and Bobby Seale to name their new organization the Black Panther Party. (99-100)."
"Amazing," indeed, is this "simple story" - one that needs to be shared with students. What an inspiring display of defiance (what an example of "offensive" citizenship) that many a teenager could draw parallels to their own life. History isn't secular, nor is it boring. Enough with the half-truths and misinterpretations, like how the Black Panthers were considered a militant group. That is only part of the story - that white America and the media cling to. The Black Panther Party for Self-Defense were born out of "one of the most obvious and ancient manifestations of democratic responsibility...the establishment of control and protection for one's own community" (42-43). They're portrayed and remembered (by white America) as gun-carrying criminals. They should be seen more fully, and questions will help build that complete vision: what was the historical context that led to their formation? What were they resisting? What do the assassinations of freedom movement leaders have to do with the Panthers' rise? What were the policies of the Oakland Police Department in the '60s -- which citizens did they serve; which ones did they unjustly target? Who was making the policing policy decisions, further up the line of power?
Harding inspires my questions, as he highlights 13 elements of the movement ("The Black Panthers and Community Control" serving as the ninth window) in Essay 2, Advanced Ideas about Democracy: Rediscovering Humanity's Great Lessons at Home:
"But the story must not be taken out of the context of the struggle for democracy. For the Panther experience provides important resources of exploring the harsh but crucial relationships among race (and racism), the quest for local community control, and the search for the expansion of democracy among an economically, politically, and racially constricted people. For many persons at the time -- and since then - the Panthers were central to the larger question of how people can break out of the subtle and overt structures of an internal colonialism to find the life-nurturing spaces of democracy. As a result, we must also ask: How shall we best evaluate a movement that encouraged young Black urban males to see themselves not simply as victims but as prime actors in the unfolding drama of the transformation of America and the world?" (43-44)
So any discussion about the Panthers needs to include that context of a White Supremacist-led America (bell hooks has helped me better understand it as "imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy"). There is much in a name - Harding points out, and challenges us to discover how Malcom X and Muhammad Ali, among many others, transformed into theirs. Historical context is the key - as 'Foundations of Modern Education' Bank Street professor regularly reminded my classmates and me. And yet, historical context is not a given. It takes time - through one's research - to increase one's awareness, to be hip to one's history and overcome inherent ignorance.
That ignorance can be a threat to democracy: where was my hunger to learn about the armies of nonviolent protestors when I decided to sign up for Officer Candidate School? How did I confront toxic masculinity when I joined (and later went on to lead) a fraternity? What population do I serve in my work as a private school educator?
These questions are not meant to be fueled by Catholic Guilt (or White Guilt) - though I would be remiss to deny that there is guilt behind them. Instead, I seek to confront my past, for these experiences make up who I am in 2018, and who I will be tomorrow. The goal is to bring clarity to my purpose, reflecting on what I once thought it to be since I first started considering I have a purpose. I begin to wrap up this email with a couple more personal questions:
Re: Overland, National Parks, Class.
I once tried to justify my job with Overland by saying that it's OK that the children of the richest families in our country can go on a cross-country bike trip. A mentor pointed out to me that failure for these children means something very different than failure for children of lower-class families. I think I know what that means now: children with privilege can afford to fail, insofar as there is a tremendous safety net that will continually help prop them back up after each failure. They can "take their time" through school with a gap year, or a dropped semester, or a NOLS trip due to the access they have that comes with inherited wealth. The systems they move through (St. Paul's, Amherst, etc) are also built for their success. So it's no wonder that a student from a disadvantaged background goes through culture shock when they arrive at a campus like Amherst that is steeped in a legacy that is threatening to their very existence (I pick on Amherst here as opposed to a place like UMass because I want to own up to my own wake, not pretend that the institutions in my wake are unblemished). Amherst is certainly improving, to be sure - I think about the library sit-ins, I think about my mentor professor, I think about the mascot change. Its blind-spots are being seen, becoming moments of introspection and positive change.
Overland, on the other hand, is the whitest of the whitest. I discovered a passion - and a love - for wilderness places as I led Overland trips through them. I do owe Overland for those opportunities. And yet, like St. Paul's and Amherst, natural spaces are not equitable in their access. The National Parks are among the whitest places in our country, despite their being sanctioned off for all Americans to enjoy. I believe in them - in their restorative nature and in their calming influence precisely because I have been restored and calmed by them. I do know that these wild places are not usually looked at as restorative for Blacks: many painful memories come from remote wilderness places. How would a Black person feel safe - nevermind restored -- in a National Park that is filled with White people? Indeed, I see how White my own perception of these parks is.
But Vincent Harding gave me hope. In Essay 11, One Final, Soaring Hope: Building the Campgrounds of Renewal, I see the potential that natural places can have for higher learning and community. Harding's ideal classroom includes nature and different generations. His wilderness retreat would focus on Eyes on the Prize, and generations would watch, discuss and engage with the film together. His vision echoes my own experiences in nature:
In such a setting, with the fresh air of life intoxicating us, with demanding work to engage and reward us, with time for play and quietness, it might be possible to discover together a set of new life-affirming possibilities for some of them, for some of us. Indeed, in such an unfamiliar setting we might even stumble upon new models of teaching, learning, and hope, and set them loose across this nation like dancing tongues of fire, networks of purifying flame.
But first, before the fire: After the first few difficult, exploratory days, I see us sitting together, watching one segment of Eyes each day, discussing the films in small groups, working with the images and messages formally and informally, during meals and work and play. I hear us, feel us, moving continually toward the key questions: What did these earlier, historic experiences mean for the people who lived through them, and what meaning can we make for ourselves now, and in the days that follow these, the daunting days when we must leave this hidden place? (191).
What a vision - and one that I would love to be a part of in real life. Such a retreat would be a tremendous privilege, and a powerful opportunity to build community. What I've felt in nature - be it on a hike, or around a campfire, or atop a mountain - is perspective. Such settings invite vulnerability - or a level of honesty that I normally hide from the world. Nature's power becomes evident when youth put their guards down to reach a vulnerable state of self-discovery. In New York City, where space is limited, where one's credibility is constantly being threatened, where the park's basketball court serves as the place to either win one's respect or lose it -- how does a young person see their world? How do they view their purpose?
March 1, 2013
I discovered Vincent Harding on a wonderful NPR show, "On Being".
http://www.onbeing.org/program/civili...
I listened to the show twice and then went out and bought Harding's book. His message is compelling and urgent. Look back to history and make it real and personal for the children and young people of today. They need "signposts" to grasp onto; some of those that succeed in a community should stay in that community and work within it as models and teachers and examples that it is possible for those stuck in the drug culture and hopelessness that is doesn't have to be that way, reach for the stars.
"Indeed, these are the models of women and men who were not satisfied with the transformation of their own lives, the breaking of their own fears, but saw their own renewal as a call to participate in the rebuilding of their people and their nation - and in that process they found even more powerful sources of personal renewal than they dreamed. If nothing else comes forth from the exploration and sharing of the epic story of our own struggle for democracy in the United States of America, such an insight would be reward enough. And if the insight helps us to guide desperately searching -or desperately trapped-individuals to discover and claim their own best possibilities, our teaching will have leaped beyond the sharing of information to the sharing of life."
"But King did not stop there. He was too much of a pastor, teacher, and preacher to miss the opportunity to make a point. So he continued to reflect on the meaning of the power that had been developed in the lives of Black youth and their white allies:
'It is ironic that today so many educators and sociologists are seeking methods to instill middle-class values in Negro youth as the ideal in social development. It was precisely when young Negroes threw off their middle-class values that they made an historic social contribution. They abandoned those values when they put careers and wealth in a secondary role. When they cheerfully became jailbirds and troublemakers, when they took off their Brooks Brothers attire and put on overalls to work in the isolated rural south, they challenged and inspired white youth to emulate them.'
Obviously, King's words-and example-are a continuing, powerful challenge to 'educators and sociologists', to pastors and political leaders, to parents and friends of this current generation of young people. Is it really possible that certain kinds of power come to us only as we let go of things rather than accumulate them? And what of those youth who feel they have never had anything to let go of? What is their path to the power that can transform both individuals and nations? What fascinating exchanges might evolve out of a panel of young people and adults grappling seriously with the meaning of King's words and example-for today, especially if our youth recognize some willingness among us to move eventually beyond words to powerful deeds, to continue in the heritage of those who were transforming American and inspiring the world? What if some of the youth of Obama's magnificent campaign were given a helpful setting and encouraged to explore their experiences during and after the 2009 campaign? What is they were helped to thing together about the meaning of King's words for their own future and the future of our nation? What results might we see?"
The second edition of this book ends with a letter written to Barack Obama, the new president. It is a wonderful call to him to stand up and be the change he said he would be.
"Please stay awake, my son. Never become one of the cynical, overcautious chain-yankers. You know very well that there are already too many of them...They/we don't need you to join those ranks. Stay awake, Barack Hussein. You know that your energies, our energies,must be devoted to removing all chains and blindfolds, to gathering closely around you, within you, a company of free workers and dreamers-like you momma, like Fannie Lou Hammer and Ella Baker,like Bob Moses and the Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh, like Van Jones(yes, Van Jones) and Marian Wright Edelman, like Grace Lee Boggs, Thomas Banyaka, Delores Huerta (who has lovingly, gladly forgiven you for stealing-and translating-the United Farm Workers' great slogan 'si se puede) and certainly our mutual friend, Jim Wallis. And yes, as soon as possible, please sit with His Holiness the Dalai Lama (who I am sure, has already forgiven you). If you have to hide the known and unknown nobodies and great bodies in the White House family quarters, or at Camp David-or wherever unchained, sometimes unknown Underground Railroad folks carry on discussions with our president these days, let them be deeply embedded in your being. We need, you need, their voices and their spirits in these very rough times."
http://www.onbeing.org/program/civili...
I listened to the show twice and then went out and bought Harding's book. His message is compelling and urgent. Look back to history and make it real and personal for the children and young people of today. They need "signposts" to grasp onto; some of those that succeed in a community should stay in that community and work within it as models and teachers and examples that it is possible for those stuck in the drug culture and hopelessness that is doesn't have to be that way, reach for the stars.
"Indeed, these are the models of women and men who were not satisfied with the transformation of their own lives, the breaking of their own fears, but saw their own renewal as a call to participate in the rebuilding of their people and their nation - and in that process they found even more powerful sources of personal renewal than they dreamed. If nothing else comes forth from the exploration and sharing of the epic story of our own struggle for democracy in the United States of America, such an insight would be reward enough. And if the insight helps us to guide desperately searching -or desperately trapped-individuals to discover and claim their own best possibilities, our teaching will have leaped beyond the sharing of information to the sharing of life."
"But King did not stop there. He was too much of a pastor, teacher, and preacher to miss the opportunity to make a point. So he continued to reflect on the meaning of the power that had been developed in the lives of Black youth and their white allies:
'It is ironic that today so many educators and sociologists are seeking methods to instill middle-class values in Negro youth as the ideal in social development. It was precisely when young Negroes threw off their middle-class values that they made an historic social contribution. They abandoned those values when they put careers and wealth in a secondary role. When they cheerfully became jailbirds and troublemakers, when they took off their Brooks Brothers attire and put on overalls to work in the isolated rural south, they challenged and inspired white youth to emulate them.'
Obviously, King's words-and example-are a continuing, powerful challenge to 'educators and sociologists', to pastors and political leaders, to parents and friends of this current generation of young people. Is it really possible that certain kinds of power come to us only as we let go of things rather than accumulate them? And what of those youth who feel they have never had anything to let go of? What is their path to the power that can transform both individuals and nations? What fascinating exchanges might evolve out of a panel of young people and adults grappling seriously with the meaning of King's words and example-for today, especially if our youth recognize some willingness among us to move eventually beyond words to powerful deeds, to continue in the heritage of those who were transforming American and inspiring the world? What if some of the youth of Obama's magnificent campaign were given a helpful setting and encouraged to explore their experiences during and after the 2009 campaign? What is they were helped to thing together about the meaning of King's words for their own future and the future of our nation? What results might we see?"
The second edition of this book ends with a letter written to Barack Obama, the new president. It is a wonderful call to him to stand up and be the change he said he would be.
"Please stay awake, my son. Never become one of the cynical, overcautious chain-yankers. You know very well that there are already too many of them...They/we don't need you to join those ranks. Stay awake, Barack Hussein. You know that your energies, our energies,must be devoted to removing all chains and blindfolds, to gathering closely around you, within you, a company of free workers and dreamers-like you momma, like Fannie Lou Hammer and Ella Baker,like Bob Moses and the Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh, like Van Jones(yes, Van Jones) and Marian Wright Edelman, like Grace Lee Boggs, Thomas Banyaka, Delores Huerta (who has lovingly, gladly forgiven you for stealing-and translating-the United Farm Workers' great slogan 'si se puede) and certainly our mutual friend, Jim Wallis. And yes, as soon as possible, please sit with His Holiness the Dalai Lama (who I am sure, has already forgiven you). If you have to hide the known and unknown nobodies and great bodies in the White House family quarters, or at Camp David-or wherever unchained, sometimes unknown Underground Railroad folks carry on discussions with our president these days, let them be deeply embedded in your being. We need, you need, their voices and their spirits in these very rough times."
January 12, 2013
The civil rights movement is our most recent and one of our most powerful phenomenons. A lot of things can be learned from the people who had the courage to see through this event. Vicent Harding, an African American who went through the civil rights movement personally, writes about the philosophical items of the civil rights. Each chapter talks about a different philosophical question of civil rights. As for history... instead of telling you Harding expects you to know beforehand about what he's talking about. Hope and History is best defined as a philosophical book for the well educated students on the topic of civil rights.
In the book, Vincent talks about pure philosophy. Almost nothing else is discussed. Harding makes multiple references to a series known as 'Eyes On the Prize'. He also talks about a lot of lesser known people and situation from the civil rights. He does a good job of finding we learned from all those leaders, but it's hard to follow if you don't know he's talking about. Harding also uses parentheses frequently, inappropriately, and unnecessarily. There are a lot of run sentences that ramble on without a break.
Harding does a good job with the philosophy. One particular chapter that stood out to me was the question 'Is America Possible?'. This chapter talks about the American Dream of equality. Another chapter talks about the gifts civil rights gave to humanity such as cultural acceptance and seeing how far humans are willing to go for what they believe.
A major fallacy I encountered in reading Hope and History is an argument from an inappropriate authority. In one chapter, Harding speaks directly to different religions on an eye to eye level. In my opinion it takes more than a little research to understand how a religion thinks and breathes.
There are some biases in the book.One goes out to Barack Obama mainly because he is our first black president. Another goes to Malcolm X. This was a stranger bias, but I appreciate Hardings' determination to see the good in all people.
So in brief, Hope and History is a philosophical book about civil rights. It is fairly biased, very 'thick', and difficult to read at times. But by reading it, I have raised some awareness and struggled with some tough questions myself.
In the book, Vincent talks about pure philosophy. Almost nothing else is discussed. Harding makes multiple references to a series known as 'Eyes On the Prize'. He also talks about a lot of lesser known people and situation from the civil rights. He does a good job of finding we learned from all those leaders, but it's hard to follow if you don't know he's talking about. Harding also uses parentheses frequently, inappropriately, and unnecessarily. There are a lot of run sentences that ramble on without a break.
Harding does a good job with the philosophy. One particular chapter that stood out to me was the question 'Is America Possible?'. This chapter talks about the American Dream of equality. Another chapter talks about the gifts civil rights gave to humanity such as cultural acceptance and seeing how far humans are willing to go for what they believe.
A major fallacy I encountered in reading Hope and History is an argument from an inappropriate authority. In one chapter, Harding speaks directly to different religions on an eye to eye level. In my opinion it takes more than a little research to understand how a religion thinks and breathes.
There are some biases in the book.One goes out to Barack Obama mainly because he is our first black president. Another goes to Malcolm X. This was a stranger bias, but I appreciate Hardings' determination to see the good in all people.
So in brief, Hope and History is a philosophical book about civil rights. It is fairly biased, very 'thick', and difficult to read at times. But by reading it, I have raised some awareness and struggled with some tough questions myself.
June 22, 2015
I found this in a used book store. When I read it I wished I had access to this book when I was in school getting my teaching certificate. Harding's basic theme is that for democracy to continue to be successful and to grow, democratic themes must be taught. The key to this for Harding is the Civil Rights movement as it provides numerous case studies which can be used to reinforce democratic concepts and values. What does liberty mean? How do we create a society which helps live up to the ideal of all people being "created equal?" Harding provides numerous examples of events and people and suggests some broad ways a teacher could use them in the classroom. Since he was a consultant to the Eyes on the Prize documentaries many of Harding's suggestions relate to viewing the film or clips from the series. Harding also suggests making heavy use of poets like Langston Hughes and devotes a chapter to "Poets, Musicians and Magicians," as a way of delving into the American experience.
Given the events of the last week (shooting at the AME church in Charleston, SC and the deaths of Black men at the hands of police in Baltimore, Ferguson and too many others, the themes Harding addresses seems more timely than ever.
What Harding suggests is not the "objective" approach to history found in the 5 pound text books full of blandness we are asked to present to our students.
Rather it is a call to teach in a way which encourages students to examine, question, and ultimately form their own opinions, based of course, on evidence.
Given the events of the last week (shooting at the AME church in Charleston, SC and the deaths of Black men at the hands of police in Baltimore, Ferguson and too many others, the themes Harding addresses seems more timely than ever.
What Harding suggests is not the "objective" approach to history found in the 5 pound text books full of blandness we are asked to present to our students.
Rather it is a call to teach in a way which encourages students to examine, question, and ultimately form their own opinions, based of course, on evidence.
Shelved as 'gave_up'
November 22, 2017Very weird. I had this out of DCPL for the maximum # of renewals, and then had to return it. I was going to put another hold on it, but it's now gone from the catalog! Before, there was the copy I had out, plus another copy, and now there are none. This is a series of essays aimed at educators of all kinds, by one of the writers of "Eyes on the Prize", the PBS documentary about the Civil Rights era. I first encountered Harding on "On Being", and loved the interview with him. I had wanted to read the essay that they linked to "Is America Possible", which was one of the essays in the book. I did get to read the essay in this book, but the link from "On Being" to that essay is also gone. The essay that made the biggest impression on me talked about 2 movies that came out at the end of the 80's, both of which I well remember seeing. "Mississippi Burning" and "Do the Right Thing". I enjoyed Harding's musings about how these movies both reflected and influenced the world around them. I haven't given up on this one on purpose, and would definitely welcome the chance to read more of the essays, which are all very applicable to today.
http://www.onbeing.org/blog/sketchnot...
http://www.onbeing.org/blog/the-great...
November 2017: Vincent's daughter saw this "review" on goodreads and kindly messaged me that there are some links to articles and essays in the Founders section of the Hardings' website: http://www.veteransofhope.org/founder...
http://www.onbeing.org/blog/sketchnot...
http://www.onbeing.org/blog/the-great...
November 2017: Vincent's daughter saw this "review" on goodreads and kindly messaged me that there are some links to articles and essays in the Founders section of the Hardings' website: http://www.veteransofhope.org/founder...
May 28, 2013
Hope and History is a compilation of essays and letters written by noted historian Vincent Harding. These essays were written specifically for teachers; as teachers are, as Harding notes, "...the nurturers, the encouragers of all the dreams." (p. 157)
Harding, leading consultant on and champion of the popular Civil Rights series, `Eyes on The Prize: America's Civil Rights Years 1954-1965', draws on `Eyes...' in almost every essay. Hope and History reads as if it was a complementary text to the series of videos. Hope and History 2nd edition also attempts to remain current with a letter to President Barack Obama (Chapter 13) and related Obama references appearing periodically throughout the text; commentary intended to bridge the past with the present. For example:
"Forty years later the impossible became president moving through the doors that Fannie Lou Hamer had opened, Shirley Chisholm challenged, and Jesse Jackson expanded." (p.100)
`Eyes on the Prize' and Hope and History should always be a part of the African-American experience/learning experience. These, as well as Harding's other contributions, truly make him, to use his words, an Artisan of Democracy.
Harding, leading consultant on and champion of the popular Civil Rights series, `Eyes on The Prize: America's Civil Rights Years 1954-1965', draws on `Eyes...' in almost every essay. Hope and History reads as if it was a complementary text to the series of videos. Hope and History 2nd edition also attempts to remain current with a letter to President Barack Obama (Chapter 13) and related Obama references appearing periodically throughout the text; commentary intended to bridge the past with the present. For example:
"Forty years later the impossible became president moving through the doors that Fannie Lou Hamer had opened, Shirley Chisholm challenged, and Jesse Jackson expanded." (p.100)
`Eyes on the Prize' and Hope and History should always be a part of the African-American experience/learning experience. These, as well as Harding's other contributions, truly make him, to use his words, an Artisan of Democracy.
December 25, 2010
This is a very important book. I have a special affinity for the text because it details the reasons for teaching the Civil rights Movement, and making sure that this U.S. Civil Rights Movement must be contextualized within the framework of not only U.S. History but the entire facility of the U.S. educational system. Professor Harding argues that the U.S. Civil Rights Movement not only provided the impetus for other structured protest throughout the world, but Professor Harding discusses the importance of all Americans providing honor and respect to the U.S. Civil Rights Movement.
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