I saw a post on Facebook recently, an excoriation of racism. Maybe I thought it a little self-righteous in its sentiment, but I couldn’t think of any comment that wouldn’t itself seem a little self-righteous.  I don’t really know the author of the post other than through Facebook, but I find what he puts up interesting. I clicked the “like” button, felt a bit lame, and moved on. 

But I continued to stew about the matter. I share a visceral dislike of racism – and sectarianism and the gamut of othering responses. For me, openness to difference is a virtue. Yet I know that sometimes my response to other people, on the basis of trivial aspects of their appearance or character or manner or views they express, can be ungenerous. To some extent, my identity as a liberal and open-minded person is an act. It is not entirely genuine and requires effort to sustain.

Many people who exhibit casual racism can also, in other circumstances, demonstrate generosity.  If I am unable to recognise this other side of their character, and if I am too ready to accuse them of being racist,  I may trap them in a racist mindset. This polarisation is a defining feature of the current era.

A less brisk and judgmental response might open someone to a different view of the world. Sometimes, getting along with others requires effort, and the world would benefit from more of that effort. 

These reflections on prejudice  brought to mind two Dylan songs that deal with the same theme in contrasting ways.

I pity the poor immigrant

Who wishes he would’ve stayed home

Who uses all his power to do evil

But in the end is always left so alone

That man whom with his fingers cheats

And who lies with ev’ry breath

Who passionately hates his life

And likewise, fears his death

The song seems to acknowledge that immigrants, often under extreme duress, may face challenges that can complicate their relationships with others.  Elsewhere Dylan provides a message with which I feel more at ease:

Far between sundown’s finish and midnight’s broken toll

We ducked inside the doorways, thunder crashing

As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds

Seemin’ to be the chimes of freedom flashing

Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight

Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight

And for each and every underdog soldier in the night

And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

They’re both remarkable songs: Chimes of Freedom stands as a great visionary piece, while I Pity the Poor Immigrant serves as a reminder of the challenges of realising such a vision.

Endnotes

I Pity the Poor Immigrant

Chimes of Freedom