Race, conscience and empathy in the Kaepernick episode

It’s instructive to consider the Colin Kaepernick episode from his point of view.

By John M. Crisp

Tribune News Service

It’s instructive to consider the Colin Kaepernick episode from his point of view.

Envision yourself as a black American man who has achieved a significant level of success in a highly competitive, demanding profession. This man enjoys the fame and wealth that go along with his success. Still, his conscience nags him because he understands that his success is an unreachable anomaly for most black men.

In fact, he’s troubled by the persistent de facto segregation of black Americans in our educational institutions and by high rates of incarceration for black men. And lately he’s deeply disquieted by the too-frequent reports of unarmed black men killed by police.

So this wealthy, well-known black American, like the poet Robert Frost, develops a “lover’s quarrel with the world.” He’s never fallen out of love with his nation, but its long history of injustice against his race pricks his conscience and troubles his willingness to remain silent.

At the same time, his high-profile profession requires him to attest publicly to his earnest allegiance to a nation whose loyalty to his race has often been sullied by hatred and prejudice.

So when he’s required to stand for a dutiful display of his patriotism, his conscience talks back. He doesn’t hate his country. He doesn’t hate or disrespect the soldiers who defend it. It’s just that when someone says that he must join his fellow white citizens in a public display of patriotism designed to make everyone feel good, well, he just doesn’t feel that good. He’d rather sit it out, but, out of respect, he kneels instead.

None of this is very hard to imagine. In fact, it’s pretty much what happened with Colin Kaepernick. What’s harder to imagine is a more tolerant, less insecure America that can allow a black man to respond to his conscience without worrying that the republic will be destroyed because a few people are reluctant to participate in a rote ritual. After all, a significant portion of the white audience spends the time it takes to play the anthem in the bathroom, at the concession stand or in their recliners at home, thoroughly reclined. And still the republic stands.

This intolerance seems odd in a country where so many of us are willing to defer to the demands of conscience that a Colorado baker feels when a gay couple asks him to bake them a wedding cake.

But it’s no stretch to say that Colin Kaepernick’s conscience cost him his career because he failed to display his patriotism in just the way that others thought he should. President Donald Trump saw an opportunity to churn up tribalism, intolerance and support in his base by publicly savoring the pleasure it would give him to fire any S.O.B. who declines to stand and, in fact, to take away his citizenship.

It’s disconcerting how quickly a mere ritual becomes a coercive test of patriotism. In fact, some of our rituals — the Pledge of Allegiance is a good example — originated at a time of significant demographic change — sort of like now — when nativists felt a need to test and shape the patriotism of newcomers. And sometimes those who failed to pass the test lost their jobs and sometimes their lives.

The great shame of the Kaepernick episode is the central role that race plays in it. Nearly all of the protestors are black. Their chief concerns are the racial injustices that persist in our country. The protestors’ biggest critics are white, from Trump to the league commissioner to the owners —a white, rich, old boys’ club — to the fans, who are readily riled up at the suggestion that someone might disrespect our troops.

And when we combine race with coerced conformity, it’s hard not to hear the racial undertones of the past: “Know your place.” “Stay in line.” “Keep quiet.”

And especially for you black players: “You’re rich and famous. Don’t get uppity.”

In other words, shut up and do your job until we’re through with you. Above all, don’t make white people uncomfortable.

John M. Crisp lives in Georgetown, Texas, and can be reached at jcrispcolumns@gmail.com.