African American history resounds with calls for black unity. From abolitionist times through the Black Power movement, it was widely seen as a means of securing a full share of America's promised freedom and equality. Yet today, many believe that black solidarity is unnecessary, irrational, rooted in the illusion of "racial" difference, at odds with the goal of integration, and incompatible with liberal ideals and American democracy. A response to such critics, We Who Are Dark provides the first extended philosophical defense of black political solidarity. Tommie Shelby argues that we can reject a biological idea of race and agree with many criticisms of identity politics yet still view black political solidarity as a needed emancipatory tool. In developing his defense of black solidarity, he draws on the history of black political thought, focusing on the canonical figures of Martin R. Delany and W. E. B. Du Bois, and he urges us to rethink many traditional conceptions of what black unity should entail. In this way, he contributes significantly to the larger effort to re-envision black politics and to modernize the objectives and strategies of black freedom struggles for the post-civil rights era. His book articulates a new African American political philosophy--one that rests firmly on anti-essentialist foundations and, at the same time, urges a commitment to defeating racism, to eliminating racial inequality, and to improving the opportunities of those racialized as "black."
Tommie Shelby is Caldwell Titcomb Professor of African and African American Studies and of Philosophy at Harvard University. He is the author of Dark Ghettos: Injustice, Dissent, and Reform (2016), We Who Are Dark: The Philosophical Foundations of Black Solidarity (2005), and coeditor (with Derrick Darby) of Hip Hop and Philosophy: Rhyme 2 Reason (2005). He is also a former editor of the magazine Transition.
Pedestrian development of an argument for "black solidarity," which Shelby understands as a sort of "pragmatic black nationalism." I'm certainly not opposed to what he calls for: "the faithful adherence to certain political principles, including antiracism, equal educational and employment opportunity, and tolerance for group differences and individuality, and to emancipatory goals, such as achieving substantive racial equality--especially in employment, education, and wealth--and ending ghetto poverty." The problem is that there's very little in the book that goes beyond an absolutely common sense conscious commitment to democratic values, conceived with an awareness of the realities of race in American history. Shelby traces the genealogy of his argument through Martin Delany, Marcus Garvey, a narrow slice of W.E.B. Du Bois, and an even narrower version of 1960s "Black Power." In other words, the classical Black Nationalist pantheon. One problem is that there's nothing in his vision that isn't equally applicable to, say, Frederick Douglass, Anna Julia Cooper, Ella Baker and Bayard Rustin. The second (related) problem is that his discussions of those he does touch on are limited to major statements and inevitably underestimate the changes in perspective over time, clearly a central concern when dealing with Du Bois or Malcolm. Way too many ad hoc definitions and unsupported generalities.
This book gave history to a form of politics I've already come to embrace: Black solidarity. Shelby attempts to give a philosophical foundation to this notion, so as to ask, were such a politic possible (which surely it must be), what are the features it should or best exhibit. Of course, we know the politics is possible. Shelby traces the development of the thought on this matter from theorists as far back as Martin Delany--considered the "father of black nationalism"--up through its Black Power post-Black Power articulations. However, one need not rely on Shelby's examination of Black political thought in history, when, today, the Black Lives Matter movement is living in this tradition of Black radical thought and struggle.
Indeed, as I read, I thought mostly of how what he says gives names to our efforts in this current movement. After reading, I can say with more confidence, knowing the arguments against have been exhausted: yes, Black political engagement and Black political space is of the utmost importance. Indeed, he makes a compelling argument for Blackness (where most sensically deployed) as a politic, a recognition of a shared struggle. It is in this moment, then, perhaps where we continue to organize and move past, much further past the assumptions Shelby ends with. Where he ends, unfortunately, leaves intact the guiding logics of capitalist, democratic America--where the presumed method of engagement is a statist politics of appeal and recognition. I finished this book with the question: is this where Black as politics comes to?
It'll be wrong to say that Shelby comes out and says as much. I think, for the most part, he takes care to avoid detailing what the content of a Black politics should look like, preferring instead to simply state what it best not exhibit, and how it's best represented. What it amounts to is the proposal for a Black public philosophy, rooted in a pragmatic Black nationalism, which is principally anti-racist, non-essentialist, and democratic. A strict uncritical adherence to the project of Democracy seems to me to suggest the content and form of Black solidarity to narrowly. I prefer to deal in the Underground, public-private space of the Freedom Dream.
I don't think my preference, however, amounts to a critique of the merits of this book. As I said, it's been useful in giving history and context to some important questions that still hold political importance. It's given me space to think more deeply about the possibilities of Black solidarity and co-operation. The implications of a persistent politics as such have yet to be written; though, at minimum, it is clear what it will allow for: a more robust program for Black self-defense.