The continuing flow of opinion pieces to these pages on the concepts of “critical race theory” and on “equity vs. equality” reflects differing perceptions of patriotism in today’s America. Clarifying these concepts and providing some historical background may be useful.
Clarifying concepts can, of course, improve communications in our “siloed” society. But more than communication is at stake. Harmful actions are in question here, not just semantics. The attitudes and actions of the Jan. 6 insurrectionists, the racist behavior of some police officers, and the actions of those who commit violence at Black Lives Matter events all show that words often lead to actions. The old schoolyard half-truth — “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” — is misleading. As the May 16 Washington Post article (“From Memes to Race War”) shows, the internet recruitment propaganda of sophisticated extreme right organizations is powerful and can provoke harmful actions.
Critical race theory is a particular case of the broader notion of critical social theory. It’s worth noting that “critical” here doesn’t mean simply “important.” Nor does it designate a negative put-down. Critical race theory is a specific application — to race — of the broad critical theory outlook of the sociologists and philosophers of the so-called Frankfurt School in Germany in the 1930s.
Their influence continued through the 20th century and was expressed in the writings of Jürgen Habermas, the author of Legitimation Crisis (1973). In arguing that the power regimes of nation-states were losing their legitimacy, Habermas pointed to the reality of domination and oppression imposed by the powers that be. He posed the simple question: Who has, and who does not have, a seat at the table? — “the table” being the places where powerful private- and public-sector bodies shape social reality.
In America, people often speak with patriotic pride of our Constitution and see “liberty and justice for all” as a description of social reality. Critical social theory, without denigrating these aspirations, points to domination and oppression as pervasive realities that limit human freedom. Obvious examples include extreme and growing economic inequality between rich and poor; institutional racism (mass incarceration); and gender inequality (from inferior treatment of female athletes to unequal pay and discrimination in advancement for employed women).
Its critics charge that New Hampshire House Bill 544 would prohibit teachers and their students from discussing these realities on the grounds that doing so is unpatriotic and will make kids hate their country and feel guilty for being white. Wayne Gersen’s May 16 op-ed column (“ ‘Divisive concepts’ keep us from finding common ground,”) argues that to find common ground requires naming and understanding our challenges, not just touting our country’s greatness and letting the problems fester. Critical social theory encourages acknowledgement, in schools and across society, of various kinds of domination and oppression as the indispensable first step toward healing our divisions and working to free citizens from these constraints.
In her adjoining op-ed column, “Social activism is replacing genuine teaching,” Miriam Richards aligns herself with the defenders of HB 544. One has to ask, does the rejection of social activism suggest that genuine teaching consists only, or mainly, of students sitting in classrooms, listening to their teachers lecture? But more to the point, Richards objects to teaching about equity, holding that equity is “antithetical to equality,” and as such is to be opposed. Equity is, indeed, different from equality, but it is best understood as part of a larger vision of justice.
In current law, and in ancient Greek thought, equity has a place. Aristotle, in his Nicomachean Ethics, implies the importance of equity, holding that, “There is nothing so unequal as the equal treatment of unequals.”
The importance of equitable treatment, as distinct from equal treatment, is clearly shown in a widely praised short video of a stern Albanian schoolmaster who routinely and harshly slaps the hand of any pupil who arrives late to school. One child is shown suffering this “equal punishment” day after day. But one day, the schoolmaster happens to see that child, at school opening time, pushing an invalid in a wheelchair to a care facility. It dawns on him that the child’s late arrivals at school are due to his caring for this disabled person. The next time the child comes late to school the schoolmaster, instead of slapping his hand, embraces him, silently acknowledging the injustice of his previous treatment. The clear implication is that equal treatment, when circumstances are different, can be unjust.
A less simplistic example is the Supreme Court decision in Brown vs. Board of Education, rejecting the segregationists’ doctrine of “separate but equal.” (An internet search for “equity vs. equality” will likely take the reader to illuminating pictures showing how equity is needed in an adequate vision of justice.)
Many who have supported HB 544, and who object to critical race theory and the place of equity in a comprehensive vision of justice, surely believe themselves to be patriotic in their views.
But there are two kinds of patriotism, as Alexis de Tocqueville reminded Americans in the 1830s, when the French aristocrat came to these shores to study our democracy. In Democracy in America (1833), he wrote, “There is a patriotism (of those) who feel love for their country as one loves their father’s house. … They love living there in obedience. It is itself a sort of religion.” But “there is another sort of patriotism, more rational … more creative and more lasting (where) civic spirit is inseparable from the (active defense) of political rights. …”
It is this higher sort of “critical patriotism” that is championed by critical race theory and by the inclusion of equity in a fully developed vision of social justice.
Bob Schultz, of Lebanon, is an emeritus professor of ethics and social philosophy at the University of Washington.