Ben Campbell wastes no time in naming hard truths in his new book, Richmond’s Unhealed History. It opens in 1607 with Captain Christopher Newport arriving at the fall line of what is now the James River, Virginia. Planting a large cross in the ground he tells the representative of Chief Powhatan that it symbolizes the partnership between King James and the Algonquian leader. “It was not true. He lied,” writes Campbell. The cross asserted England’s sovereignty and ownership of the land. With this action Newport and his men “planted the seed of a great nation with unprecedented opportunity for all human beings; they also planted seeds of economic exploitation, racial discrimination, a hierarchical class system, and a heretical version of Christianity….”
Campbell tells Richmond’s story, but his book is a model for the kind of honest historical narrative needed in many communities. He makes an unflinching, detailed, and persuasive argument for acknowledging the origins and development of race and class systems that deeply influence the city today.
English colonists in the Americas followed in the path of Portuguese and Spanish. They claimed divine warrant for their actions. In 1455 Pope Nicholas V authorized colonists to invade, subdue, and capture all goods and possessions of “pagans and enemies of Christ,” and to “reduce their persons to perpetual slavery.” Cloaked in religious language, the Doctrine of Discovery gave Europeans automatic property rights over any land not already possessed by another European nation.
While paying tribute to her remarkable force of character, Campbell deconstructs the “dominant American myth” of Pocahontas (Powhatan’s daughter) noting the irony that the painting of her baptism hangs in the state capitol, “the central shrine of a nation that specifically separates church and state.” Ninety percent of Pocahontas’s people were forced from their ancestral lands or killed under policies “that in modern international law would be considered genocide.”
Richmond’s racial history is discussed more freely these days, but Campbell believes that “class is, if anything, even more foundational, seldom acknowledged, and more insidious in its impact.” In the early years, most new arrivals in Virginia – white and black – were in servitude or bondage. By 1662, the small white elite, fearing that indentured whites would make common cause with Africans, began to develop legal structures for racialized slavery.
As a churchman himself, Campbell is always interested in where the church stood on these matters. Significantly, conversion did not mean freedom for Africans. Christianity became a description of white ethnic origin. The 1705 Comprehensive Slave Code specified Christians as White and slaves as Negroes.
A ray of hope appeared with the spiritual movements of the Great Awakening in the 1730s and 40s followed by the Great Revival that became a source of democratic energy. Evangelical Christianity was “a decidedly multiracial affair.” But by the last decade of the eighteenth century most evangelicals had accepted the status quo insofar as slavery was concerned and the established churches became increasingly outspoken in their paternalistic justification of the institution.
New waves of immigration brought Scots-Irish and German settlers, famers and artisans. Though poor, they formed a vital buffer between the aristocracy and the enslaved population. Racial privilege muted their class consciousness. The 1791 revolution in Saint Dominique, a nearly successful slave revolt in Richmond in 1800, and Nat Turner’s rebellion in 1831 just seventy-five miles southeast of Richmond scared the governing class.
By now Richmond was the leading interstate slave market in the country and consequently the third wealthiest city in America. In 1857 alone, the business of supplying slaves to cotton plantations in the south generated $100 million in present-day dollars. The brutalizing impact on Richmond was noted by Charles Dickens who was struck by “the darkness – not of the skin, but of the mind – that meets the stranger’s eye.”
Some of Campbell’s most powerful writing focuses on the post-Civil War and Emancipation years: a brief period of black political empowerment followed by decades of exclusion and segregation. In 1867 blacks comprised one third of the Republican majority in the General Assembly and a majority of Richmond’s registered voters – a situation not to be repeated for almost a century. But beginning in the early 1870s, explicit, openly restrictive policies to exclude blacks and to suppress the vote at local and state level reduced registered African American voters by 99 percent. After 1896 no blacks served on the city council until after World War II and by the late 1890s none were left in statewide office.
Campbell describes in detail the policies employed by white leaders to isolate the African American community, leading to concentrated poverty and contributing to urban sprawl. “The city pursued a plan that destroyed or invaded every black neighborhood” in the name of urban renewal. In the 1950s an interstate highway – twice rejected by referendum but rammed through the General Assembly – bisected the Jackson Ward community. The city’s Master Plan destroyed 4,700 units of housing and replaced then with 1,736 units of public housing. Five public housing projects were built within a mile of each other.
As black political power grew in Richmond following the civil rights movement, the General Assembly was busy changing annexation laws to protect majority white counties from increasingly black cities across the state in “panicked attempts to replace legalized segregation with a new jurisdictionally established separation of race and class.” By the early seventies, Richmond found itself with “its boundaries drawn by the General Assembly, its tax base restricted, its charter subject to state approval…” Even after court-ordered busing, Campbell says the “de facto segregation of schools” continued to be the most powerful element keeping the jurisdictions of metropolitan Richmond separate from one another.” As a result, there is “no effective public vehicle for the collaborative nurture of the metropolitan area’s children.”
Campbell's book is an urgent call to action. The final section, which includes numerous graphs illustrating the disparities in the region, serves as an essential toolkit for advocates. He closes with specific and radical proposals that are sure to provoke strong responses and, hopefully, serious consideration. Structural changes, not just cooperation, are needed. Calling for some form of metropolitan “federalism" and consolidation of major services he writes, “A single elected leadership is essential to a dynamic metropolitan city.”
Richmond’s Unhealed History is a sobering read but it is not without hope and vision. Campbell references some major initiatives begun in 1993 to publicly acknowledge the city’s history. In his focus on truth-telling he may seem to underestimate the significance of these developments in which he himself has been a vital player. But he ultimately has faith in the spiritual potential of the city, believing that a “genuine citizenship that serves the common wealth” is the most realistic and moral aspiration for Richmond.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Making Time
A few months ago I met a young Egyptian judge who was in Washington, DC, taking part in a fellowship program. “The problem with Americans is that they never have any time,” he told me. “Often I start a conversation with a person and he will say “Oh, that’s so interesting, I’d love to hear more about that.” But when I say, “Well, can we sit and talk for a few minutes, maybe have a cup of coffee?” he says, “I can’t stop now, I have another appointment.” And so the real conversation never happens, he said, noting sadly that he had made more friendships with people from other countries in Washington than with Americans.
I often feel that one of the greatest diseases in this country is over-busyness. Are we insecure if every minute of our days is not filled with some activity? Do we fear empty space?
The physical structures of American society do not encourage conversation. In Richmond, like many cities, we have wonderful neighborhoods with older homes where the original front porches have been removed. Until the days of air conditioning and TV people would sit and greet neighbors and passers-by. Today we move from hermetically sealed homes to solitary journeys in automobiles, or commute in trains and buses listening to iPods with our ears blocked to the world around us. We rush from one engagement to the next, often eating on the run, and becoming increasingly stressed.
Facebook and text messaging are wonderful tools but they are no substitute for face-to-face interaction. A recent survey showed that the more Facebook contacts a person has the less likely he or she is to know the person living next door. When I led a workshop in a university last year, I asked students to identify qualities that helped to build trust. Interestingly, “willingness to make time” featured in many of their responses.
How do we make time? I used to laugh at the British rituals of “elevenses” and afternoon tea. But maybe Americans would benefit by adopting some habits that force us to slow down.
The Swedish author Henning Mankell wrote a fascinating column in the New York Times on December 10 entitled “The Art of Listening.” Mankell has lived “off and on” in Mozambique for nearly 25 years. “The simplest way to explain what I’ve learned from my life in Africa,” he writes, “is through a parable about why human beings have two ears but only one tongue. Why is this? Probably so that we have to listen twice as much as we speak.”
The Swedish author Henning Mankell wrote a fascinating column in the New York Times on December 10 entitled “The Art of Listening.” Mankell has lived “off and on” in Mozambique for nearly 25 years. “The simplest way to explain what I’ve learned from my life in Africa,” he writes, “is through a parable about why human beings have two ears but only one tongue. Why is this? Probably so that we have to listen twice as much as we speak.”
He continues, “In Africa listening is a guiding principle. It’s a principle that’s been lost in the constant chatter of the Western world, where no one seems to have the time or even the desire to listen to anyone else.” He celebrates Africa’s “unrestrained and exuberant storytelling that skips back and forth in time and blends together past and present,” and concludes: “What differentiates us from animals is the fact that we can listen to other people’s dreams, fears, joys, sorrows, desires and defeats — and they in turn can listen to ours.”
At we enter the holiday season, let’s slow down, make time to listen to one another, and share our stories.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Taking Care of our Politicians
Driving to Delaware for the family Thanksgiving we stopped for lunch. "My name is Christy and I will be taking care of you," announces the bright young woman who hands us a menu. And she really seems to mean it.
Later we stop at Kmart for supplies. We remark to one of the staff that the store has advertised that it will be open 24 hours a day over the holiday to get a jump on 'Black Friday' and we hope she will have time to enjoy some turkey. She replies cheerfully, "I will be doing the labeling on the first shift so I'll be off by 6am!"
One of the things that constantly surprises and impresses me is the genuine cheerfulness and spirit of service shown by so many Americans who work long hours for minimal pay. All across this country people do what needs to be done to take care of their families. And after a full day’s work many are taking care of their neighbors and their neighborhoods. This is the real world beyond the gridlock of Capitol Hill where politicians seem to inhabit a different universe.
But politicians are human too. Most enter public service with high ideals and often at considerable cost to themselves and their families. We elect them (if we bother to vote at all) and then expect them to become models of perfection, willing to have every aspect of their lives scrutinized by the media. They work under intolerable pressure. We rarely interact with them except to register a complaint or to advocate for some policy or legislation.
At the recent Trust Factor forum in Washington, Mee Moua, a former state senator from Minnesota, urged her audience to "create authentic relationships with our civic and elected leaders, instead of transactional relationships where we only contact them when we need something.”
So, instead of just lobbying or vilifying politicians we might try a different approach. What if more of us were to offer them real friendship, perhaps invite them to an informal meal or cup of coffee with neighbors in our homes? We might start a conversation by saying: "We appreciate your willingness to serve our community. We are not here to debate politics. We have no agenda except to understand how we can help you do your best work. Please share with us what concerns you most at this time.” We might reach out even to those whose political views are different from our own.
Sure, it sounds simplistic and yes of course there are self-serving office holders. But our leaders are more likely to show political courage and take risks for the common good if they are surrounded by networks of selfless citizens who encourage them, speak honestly, and provide moral support. I choose to believe that if more of us took care of our politicians we might begin to change the political climate in Washington.
Monday, November 7, 2011
A New Generation of Leaders
I am flying home after an intensive two weeks in Europe! I have enjoyed my brief stay in the Netherlands. I like its human-sized scale, the streets full of cyclists (the Dutch must be a healthy people!) and the trams. On my arrival I am even allowed to travel without paying the train fare to The Hague. The machine had not processed my credit card correctly but the kind ticket collector takes pity on this ignorant American.
I feel tired but satisfied after delivering eight talks and workshops in eleven days as well as taking part in numerous discussions and informal consultations in six cities. Whatever the differences between Europe and America, the focus on trust as an indispensable foundation for constructive change in community relations, economics, and politics resonates everywhere. As I write, relationships in the Euro zone are being severely tested.
I have been blessed with excellent co-facilitators and assistants during my sojourn. In The Hague, Tessa Calkhoven bravely steps up with less than 48 hours preparation to help me lead an intensive all-day workshop for a diverse group of mostly young professionals and community activists.
At a vocational college in Amsterdam we meet with students of international journalism. After a half-hour talk on "the power of stories to build or break trust" they jump in with insightful questions and comments and it turns into a real dialogue for the next hour. They are particularly interested in stories of how to engage with the “other” – dialogues with Muslims and evangelical Christians in Richmond and the interactions with our newspaper that encouraged a more inclusive and constructive approach to news coverage.
One student asks, "Are you an optimist or a realist?" I reply, “A bit of both. You have to hold up a vision of what life can be, but you also have to accept that change takes time, that there is such a thing as evil in the world, and that you need short and medium-term benchmarks as well as loftier goals.”
Despite the country's reputation for tolerance, there's unease about the difficulty of integrating an increasingly diverse national community and the extent to which right-wing parties control the political process. After a lecture in The Hague, one woman says, “I have lived here for thirty years but I still am not treated as fully Dutch.” This prompts considerable discussion among the audience and agreement that there is still much need for “honest conversation."
I’m impressed by the high quality of young leaders that I encounter in Holland and the UK. In Liverpool, a workshop at Liverpool Hope University is organized by graduate Charlotte Sawyer and Jonty Herman, vice president of the student union. We begin by asking the students to discuss: "Do I trust myself? And what do I do when trust is broken?" To encourage the conversations, Willemijn, my co-facilitator in the UK, tells a personal story of her response to broken trust in a relationship that seems to touch students and sets the tone for the afternoon.
Liverpool Hope is producing a potentially significant group of new leaders through its School for Changemakers program. The vice chancellor and rector, Gerald Pillay, says it aims to prepare students "not only for the world of work but the work of the world." Over lunch he introduces me to two of his faculty. He tells the new head of War and Peace Studies, "We must arrange for you to visit Richmond!"
It's clear that the approach of Initiatives of Change has enormous appeal for this Millennial generation that abounds in talented young people who are committed to making a difference in the world. My Dutch colleagues tell me that 150 people applied for the new IofC position of general coordinator and the selection process was difficult. Thirty-two year-old Maurits van den Wall Bake, who was selected for the job a few weeks ago, is responsible for arranging my program and we compare notes on our priorities in our respective national organizations.
Like the US, the Initiatives of Change teams in the UK and Netherlands are exploring new ways of operating. There are many outstanding young people who would love to work with IofC. The challenge is not how to attract the next generation but to find ways to enable them to make their best contribution both within the organization and as agents of change embedded in non-profit agencies, businesses, and governments.
I step off the plane in Richmond's quiet airport. Europe suddenly seems far away. Susan is waiting at the gate. It's good to be home.
I feel tired but satisfied after delivering eight talks and workshops in eleven days as well as taking part in numerous discussions and informal consultations in six cities. Whatever the differences between Europe and America, the focus on trust as an indispensable foundation for constructive change in community relations, economics, and politics resonates everywhere. As I write, relationships in the Euro zone are being severely tested.
I have been blessed with excellent co-facilitators and assistants during my sojourn. In The Hague, Tessa Calkhoven bravely steps up with less than 48 hours preparation to help me lead an intensive all-day workshop for a diverse group of mostly young professionals and community activists.
At a vocational college in Amsterdam we meet with students of international journalism. After a half-hour talk on "the power of stories to build or break trust" they jump in with insightful questions and comments and it turns into a real dialogue for the next hour. They are particularly interested in stories of how to engage with the “other” – dialogues with Muslims and evangelical Christians in Richmond and the interactions with our newspaper that encouraged a more inclusive and constructive approach to news coverage.
One student asks, "Are you an optimist or a realist?" I reply, “A bit of both. You have to hold up a vision of what life can be, but you also have to accept that change takes time, that there is such a thing as evil in the world, and that you need short and medium-term benchmarks as well as loftier goals.”
Despite the country's reputation for tolerance, there's unease about the difficulty of integrating an increasingly diverse national community and the extent to which right-wing parties control the political process. After a lecture in The Hague, one woman says, “I have lived here for thirty years but I still am not treated as fully Dutch.” This prompts considerable discussion among the audience and agreement that there is still much need for “honest conversation."
I’m impressed by the high quality of young leaders that I encounter in Holland and the UK. In Liverpool, a workshop at Liverpool Hope University is organized by graduate Charlotte Sawyer and Jonty Herman, vice president of the student union. We begin by asking the students to discuss: "Do I trust myself? And what do I do when trust is broken?" To encourage the conversations, Willemijn, my co-facilitator in the UK, tells a personal story of her response to broken trust in a relationship that seems to touch students and sets the tone for the afternoon.
Liverpool Hope is producing a potentially significant group of new leaders through its School for Changemakers program. The vice chancellor and rector, Gerald Pillay, says it aims to prepare students "not only for the world of work but the work of the world." Over lunch he introduces me to two of his faculty. He tells the new head of War and Peace Studies, "We must arrange for you to visit Richmond!"
It's clear that the approach of Initiatives of Change has enormous appeal for this Millennial generation that abounds in talented young people who are committed to making a difference in the world. My Dutch colleagues tell me that 150 people applied for the new IofC position of general coordinator and the selection process was difficult. Thirty-two year-old Maurits van den Wall Bake, who was selected for the job a few weeks ago, is responsible for arranging my program and we compare notes on our priorities in our respective national organizations.
Like the US, the Initiatives of Change teams in the UK and Netherlands are exploring new ways of operating. There are many outstanding young people who would love to work with IofC. The challenge is not how to attract the next generation but to find ways to enable them to make their best contribution both within the organization and as agents of change embedded in non-profit agencies, businesses, and governments.
I step off the plane in Richmond's quiet airport. Europe suddenly seems far away. Susan is waiting at the gate. It's good to be home.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Talking About the Elephant in the Room
My week-long program of talks, workshops and consultations in the UK continued in Bradford. Here are more notes from the road:
Bradford's magnificent town hall features a 220-foot clock tower modeled on the Campanile of the Palazzo Vacchio in Florence. In its heyday as the center of the wool trade, Bradford shared with Florence the distinction of being the only European city to sustain a fifty percent compound growth rate over two decades. It was the Silicon Valley, or Shanghai of its time. Ninety-five percent of the world's wool crop was traded here and much of it processed in its thriving mills.
When we arrive, my colleague Mike Smith, whose great-grandfather was a mill owner and served two terms as Lord Mayor, arranges a private tour of the town hall with its ornate council chamber paneled with Peruvian mahogany.
Today Bradford is a much different place. The industry is long gone but the city is expanding. A population of 3000 Muslims from South Asia in 1961, invited by Britain to work in the mills, had grow to 75,000 by 2001 and is projected to have increased by another fifty percent by this year.
My host, Philip Lewis, an adviser to the Anglican bishop on interfaith matters, teaches South Asian Islamic studies at Bradford University and serves on national interfaith and social justice commissions. The challenge in Bradford, says Lewis, is not the number of South Asians but the fact that the vast majority has origins in very underdeveloped rural Pakistan, particularly in Azad Kasmir.
The "elephant in the room," that is not much discussed says Lewis, author of Young, British and Muslim is that eighty percent of marriages are transcontinental (often among relatives). Even after three generations many young people have parents both of whom were born overseas. Extended clan networks and feuds are imported into the Bradford community, including the city council.
With Lewis we hold a discussion with leaders of the Bradford Council of Mosques that represents the city's eighty-six mosques. Lewis is an active partner with the Council in efforts to promote community harmony and understanding. In sharing some of Richmond's ongoing efforts in honest conversation, I comment that the big challenge for us to is to be willing to ask, "What is the conversation that is not taking place and what are the topics we fear to put on the table?" One younger Muslim leader responds, "We don’t just need prayer. We have to talk about the issues that tend to be swept under the carpet." Topics such as the generational divide, school catchment areas (many schools are almost 100 percent Asian) and the white and Asian underclass begin to emerge. "There is too much political correctness," says one person. Someone else mentions "blame." "We need to be prepared to take responsibility."
Bradford University is home to a world famous center for peace and conflict studies. My co-facilitator, Willemijn Lambert, has just completed her degree there and we meet several of her friends. I am honored to be asked to speak at the dinner for Rotary Peace Fellows and their sponsors. Perhaps the university can play an even more vital role in addressing tensions in the community.
I leave Bradford increasingly thoughtful about the particular challenges facing UK cities and how this country can address new realities in a constructive way. But I am encouraged by chatting with my taxi driver. He is from Kashmir and he tells me his neighbor is from the Dominican Republic. “But we get along very well and we exchange presents at Christmas time.”
Bradford's magnificent town hall features a 220-foot clock tower modeled on the Campanile of the Palazzo Vacchio in Florence. In its heyday as the center of the wool trade, Bradford shared with Florence the distinction of being the only European city to sustain a fifty percent compound growth rate over two decades. It was the Silicon Valley, or Shanghai of its time. Ninety-five percent of the world's wool crop was traded here and much of it processed in its thriving mills.
When we arrive, my colleague Mike Smith, whose great-grandfather was a mill owner and served two terms as Lord Mayor, arranges a private tour of the town hall with its ornate council chamber paneled with Peruvian mahogany.
Today Bradford is a much different place. The industry is long gone but the city is expanding. A population of 3000 Muslims from South Asia in 1961, invited by Britain to work in the mills, had grow to 75,000 by 2001 and is projected to have increased by another fifty percent by this year.
My host, Philip Lewis, an adviser to the Anglican bishop on interfaith matters, teaches South Asian Islamic studies at Bradford University and serves on national interfaith and social justice commissions. The challenge in Bradford, says Lewis, is not the number of South Asians but the fact that the vast majority has origins in very underdeveloped rural Pakistan, particularly in Azad Kasmir.
The "elephant in the room," that is not much discussed says Lewis, author of Young, British and Muslim is that eighty percent of marriages are transcontinental (often among relatives). Even after three generations many young people have parents both of whom were born overseas. Extended clan networks and feuds are imported into the Bradford community, including the city council.
With Lewis we hold a discussion with leaders of the Bradford Council of Mosques that represents the city's eighty-six mosques. Lewis is an active partner with the Council in efforts to promote community harmony and understanding. In sharing some of Richmond's ongoing efforts in honest conversation, I comment that the big challenge for us to is to be willing to ask, "What is the conversation that is not taking place and what are the topics we fear to put on the table?" One younger Muslim leader responds, "We don’t just need prayer. We have to talk about the issues that tend to be swept under the carpet." Topics such as the generational divide, school catchment areas (many schools are almost 100 percent Asian) and the white and Asian underclass begin to emerge. "There is too much political correctness," says one person. Someone else mentions "blame." "We need to be prepared to take responsibility."
Bradford University is home to a world famous center for peace and conflict studies. My co-facilitator, Willemijn Lambert, has just completed her degree there and we meet several of her friends. I am honored to be asked to speak at the dinner for Rotary Peace Fellows and their sponsors. Perhaps the university can play an even more vital role in addressing tensions in the community.
I leave Bradford increasingly thoughtful about the particular challenges facing UK cities and how this country can address new realities in a constructive way. But I am encouraged by chatting with my taxi driver. He is from Kashmir and he tells me his neighbor is from the Dominican Republic. “But we get along very well and we exchange presents at Christmas time.”
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