Defense Against the Dark Arts
Part II
In the weeks between the last Carrying Capacity post and this one, I have been constantly on the road.
Each trip across state lines, I find myself conversing with people who share a sense of disbelief at how our political and cultural institutions are crumbling, and how lines of conduct that used to seem fixed are being crossed at a rapid-fire pace and then blotted out altogether. Examples of this disintegration of norms exist all over the country -- at the universities that called in city and state police to forcibly and even violently shut down peaceful student protests on campus, with Dartmouth College (a place I felt a fondness for after living there as a dissertation fellow) being a prime example; and the ugly exchange started by Republican Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene at a nighttime congressional session, in which female representatives lobbed demeaning criticisms about physical appearance and personal style.
During my travels, people tell me they are wondering what it is that they can do in these circumstances of deep destabilization. I tell them that I ask myself that same question every day. My answer: I do not know, and I am quite sure that no one does. One thing seems clear, though: our universities are not sanctuaries, and the old rules will not save us. I suppose I may have previously harbored a passive, unexplored belief that traditional institutions and exceptional individuals with authority in our culture would protect society from democratic collapse. (Surely the Obamas, the Clintons, and some brainiac political strategists whose names I don’t know, are developing a secret, sophisticated plan to block Trump’s steady advance to a second term, I thought.) After the public disgrace and formal demotion of Harvard’s former President, Claudine Gay, a kind and talented person, I now see how shaky those institutions are and how vulnerable everyone is regardless of job title and position of influence.
So, if there are no protectors, what do we do? After the October 7th Hamas attack on Israeli neighborhoods, the Israeli offensive in Gaza, and the controversial congressional testimony of President Gay and other university leaders, I shared my worries with someone whom I admire, Reverend Daniel Smith, senior pastor at First Church in Cambridge. The conversation felt more than coincidental. He told me about a sermon he had given about the need for congregants to look to God for protection in these chaotic times. I felt a glimmer of hope while listening to him, and I agree that for many people (including me, in a different frame of mind), there will be spiritual answers to this question of “what can we do.” But in that moment as we spoke in his parlor already bright with Christmas decor, I did not see how God was shielding anyone, and I wanted to consider more down-to-earth possibilities.
Recognizing that the gameboard has changed might be one of the first things we can do to maintain our grip on reality and commitment to positive momentum. Clearly, we cannot expect the previous limits on aggressive actions and adherence to accustomed civil practices to hold. But how are these borderlines shifting, how are these practices changing, and how do we prioritize among the problems of the day? Keeping track of the most critical issues on which to train our focus amid a swirl of shocking news might be another thing we can do. I have been concerned, for example, about the time tax and emotional toll that the harsh rhetorical battles about DEI extracted from so many people over the past several months when former President Donald Trump’s announcement that he wanted to be "dictator for a day" was the larger threat by far.
Once we have determined what the gravest dangers are in this present environment, how do we defend against them? Here, I turn to the people whose wisdom continually teaches me: our cultural ancestors who contended with legalized human enslavement and literal civil war. I have written about many of these figures in the past; my forthcoming book, Night Flyer, is a biography of Harriet Tubman, and the book I am currently researching will be about Harriet Jacobs and Harriet Beecher Stowe.
There are many things to notice about the strategies of these ancestors. One of these is, in fact, focus. They often directed a kind of single-minded passion toward dismantling slavery (while incorporating complex analyses that led them to see how the subjugation of all women interconnected with a system of chattel bondage). True, they didn’t have social media to contend with. But even if they had, I cannot imagine Harriet Tubman fixating on a Twitter/X storm.
Another thing to notice is the way in which these figures worked to strengthen extended circles of care in their local areas. For Harriet Jacobs, this took the form of running boardinghouses in Cambridge, Mass., and Washington DC, where she housed Harvard faculty and students (MA) as well as Black professionals (DC), and prepared holiday meals for boarders and hungry neighbors alike. For Harriet Tubman, this meant striving for years to create a land-based residential community on ample acreage, where people in need could live together, share the fruits of their labor, collectively receive essential gifts from generous non-residents (that is, fundraise), and adapt together to changes wrought by the Civil War, Reconstruction, and post-Reconstruction eras.
My takeaway here is modest, because, again, I have no answer to the question “what can we do” and no solution to the problem of protection. (Would there were think tanks and convenings methodically tackling these questions.) But I see in the examples of these women a defense against the dark arts that takes the form of deep investment in local places and communal life by people who spent time in the political and cultural trenches. (For more on what I mean by the “dark arts,” see part 1.)
Please consider pre-ordering a copy of Night Flyer. It truly helps! The book launches on June 20th at Porter Square Books, my favorite local bookstore in Cambridge. I will be in conversation with my friend and colleague, Melissa Bartholomew, Associate Dean of the Harvard Divinity School. Please join us!
If you’d like to read my recent short pieces, I invite you to visit my website where they are routinely posted, along with many of my events. Here is a sampling:
A Review of The 272 by Rachel Swarns in The New York Review of Books.
An analysis of Octavia Butler’s prophetic ideas in The Free Press.
Thank you so much for these wise and much-needed insights, Tiya! I remember you speaking to my women's studies class when you were at Dartmouth, and I share your horror at the violent police response called onto the peaceful protests there (and the injury to Annelise Orleck!). Maybe it's naive of me to be so shocked that this was how President Beilock decided to handle it, but I really am. My husband and I will be going to visit Hanover in July (he's never been, and I haven't been back in 15 years) and I'll be keen to see how things are then.
On a brighter note, I'm really excited for Night Flyer and have pre-ordered it! I can't wait :) Huge congratulations!!
Dr Miles,
This is a timely essay for me. Focus. Focus. Focus. Yesterday, as I watched a furious Michigan hailstorm shred my lettuce and carefully planted tomatoes, my mind could not comprehend all that has changed: the climate, social norms, etc. I felt so helpless and hopeless. I surveyed my ravaged garden. What’s the point in all this work if it all comes to naught? And then I saw my late mother’s lillies standing tall., like my ancestors. I planted again.