Black Prophetic Fire, by Cornel West
review by Sunder John Boopalan
Sunder John Boopalan is a Ph.D. candidate in Religion and Society at Princeton Theological Seminary where he examines questions of memory and identity, especially how a memory of past wrongs can generate responsibility. His most recent publications include “Pentecostalism in Asia” in Asian Theology on the Way: Christianity, Culture and Context (London: 2012) and “Harmony, Polyphony, Cacophony: Voices of Dissent and Unfamiliar Vocabulary” in Mission At and From the Margins (Oxford: 2014).
Christa Buschendorf asks. Cornel West responds. This “transatlantic dialogue” (7) between a professor and Chair of American Studies at Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main and one of America’s leading public intellectuals now at Union Theological Seminary in New York City features six Black prophetic figures—Frederick Douglass, W. E. B. Du Bois, Martin Luther King Jr., Ella Baker, Malcolm X, and Ida B. Wells—who were “on fire.” The titles of chapters capture the distinctive heat of their fires as well: “It’s a Beautiful Thing to Be on Fire” (Douglass); “The Black Flame” (Du Bois); “Moral Fire” (King); “The Heat of Democratic Existentialism” (Baker); “Revolutionary Fire” (Malcolm X); and “Prophetic Fire” (Wells). West does not disappoint any audience. There’s fire that can inspire every reader.
How does someone born into slavery (Douglass) speak truth in a way that it catches the imagination of those around him (16)? What is the process by which a person (Du Bois) catches prophetic fire, shedding elitism (51) and recognizing the gift and genius of nonliterate slaves whose wisdom and fire came through song, story, tradition and art? Why is it that the messages of a prophetic figure (King) are often reduced to “inoffensive sound bites” (65) when, as a matter of fact, they refused to be bought and spoke in both love and truth? What is the source of strength for a prophet (Baker) who combined cooking for the elderly and reading Gramsci “in the same afternoon” (95)? When a prophet (Malcolm X) is either sanitized or demonized (111), or even “commodified” (134), how do we understand the fire of their sincerity and truth telling today in a way that ignites rather than douses the spark of their propheticism? How do we learn to give the last word to a prophetic voice (Wells) too often forgotten? These are only some of the several questions that are addressed in this important book.
Who is a prophet? Noting the role of religion and religious symbols in the Black prophetic tradition, West insists that prophetic religion transfigures suffering into a “voice” that inspires vocation, generates vision and empowers the “wretched of the earth” (to use Frantz Fanon’s phrase) or “the least of these,” recalling Matthew 25 (24-25). Prophets are those who are less worried about “predicting an outcome” and more concerned with “concrete evil” (28). They dig beneath “the superficial, mediocre, mainstream” and grasp buried and hidden truths and unapologetically “take a stand” (33). Importantly, prophets deeply love the people with whom they work with and for whom they advocate. Those who claim to love a cause but not its people do disservice to the vocation of a prophet. In the words of Malcolm X, “If you can’t respect the brother and sister on the block, the Black brother and sister on the block, then you don’t really respect me” (117). Such are the prophets. Such are Black Prophetic voices—full of love, sincerity and truth.
While so much material from each chapter deserves attention in this review, Buschendorf and West make significant methodological moves worth noting here. For instance, West is self-critical as much as he is critical of others. Noting that women, despite their highly critical and history-changing contributions, are sidelined or forgotten, West and Buschendorf give Ida B. Wells “the last word” (139) and rightly so. After her parents’ death when she was only 16, Wells takes charge as the head of the family and cares for her siblings. She edits a newspaper and becomes “the first Black correspondent to a major white newspaper” (147), publicly denouncing lynching and speaking truth to power despite the threat of death from white elite. Indeed, Ida B. Wells took a stand in the spirit of all true and courageous prophets.
The conversation partners also repeatedly underscore that prophetic figures are not “self-made” (16). The guiding insight we learn from them is that we become who we are over time, being affected by those around us, which fundamentally shapes our self-identity. In making this point, West cautions readers against a hyper-individualism by observing that such a position is simply not true or possible. This is perhaps what Buschendorf had in mind when she writes in the Introduction, “I consider leaders and movements to be inseparable” (2). To give flesh to this important insight, consider some material from the chapter on Ella Baker, organizer par excellence. Baker recognized that it is the movement that made even great figures like King. Recognizing that prophets are not self-made acts as an antidote to “self-indulgence” and “narcissism” (96). Prophetic fire guards itself against believing that an individual person is “some grand messianic gift to the world” (96). To the contrary, everything depends on everyone. As Baker once put it, “It’s up to you. It’s up to you all. You all got to work it out. I am just one voice” (98). This mutuality and inter-dependence that every revolution is dependent on is an important insight that informs West and Buschendorf’s overall argument.
Of the other significant moves that the book makes, one more is worthy of attention here: democratic revolutions take time and effort. West notes that leadership is often charismatic and tied to what he calls “market time” (100), which is fast, grabs the headlines and elicits responses quickly. While such “market time” has its place in democratic revolution, West lifts up another way of organizing that he calls “democratic time” (100). Democratic time characterized the life and work of Black prophetic figures such as Ella Baker and Fannie Lou Hamer. Democratic time is slow. It is bottom-up. It works at the grass roots and brings about long-term change that is self-sustaining. Both kinds of organizing and “time” have their place and have different effects on political discourse and practice.
As already indicated, this book in the form of a dialogue is an important one and readers across the globe would benefit from paying attention to it. The concluding chapter, “Last Words on the Black Prophetic Tradition in the Age of Obama,” offers critical perspectives for consideration, particularly as we reflect on the 50th anniversary of one of the defining social movements in American history and in light of the various protests that have sprung up around the country in the wake of the deaths of unarmed Black men and women at the hands of the police. Do political systems drown prophetic fire? Are we today accustomed to “be polite” (163) in the face of brutal crimes and vicious systems of exploitation? How do we redeem the Black prophetic tradition and be redemptive in today’s world? The parting thought in the dialogue is phrased in the form of a question, inviting serious readers to respond and continue the conversation about the contributions of the Black prophetic tradition to the “the soul of our fragile democratic experiment,” and take questions of the future of that soul to their homes, streets, offices, classrooms, and movements.
Sunder John Boopalan is a Ph.D. candidate in Religion and Society at Princeton Theological Seminary where he examines questions of memory and identity, especially how a memory of past wrongs can generate responsibility. His most recent publications include “Pentecostalism in Asia” in Asian Theology on the Way: Christianity, Culture and Context (London: 2012) and “Harmony, Polyphony, Cacophony: Voices of Dissent and Unfamiliar Vocabulary” in Mission At and From the Margins (Oxford: 2014).
Christa Buschendorf asks. Cornel West responds. This “transatlantic dialogue” (7) between a professor and Chair of American Studies at Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main and one of America’s leading public intellectuals now at Union Theological Seminary in New York City features six Black prophetic figures—Frederick Douglass, W. E. B. Du Bois, Martin Luther King Jr., Ella Baker, Malcolm X, and Ida B. Wells—who were “on fire.” The titles of chapters capture the distinctive heat of their fires as well: “It’s a Beautiful Thing to Be on Fire” (Douglass); “The Black Flame” (Du Bois); “Moral Fire” (King); “The Heat of Democratic Existentialism” (Baker); “Revolutionary Fire” (Malcolm X); and “Prophetic Fire” (Wells). West does not disappoint any audience. There’s fire that can inspire every reader.
How does someone born into slavery (Douglass) speak truth in a way that it catches the imagination of those around him (16)? What is the process by which a person (Du Bois) catches prophetic fire, shedding elitism (51) and recognizing the gift and genius of nonliterate slaves whose wisdom and fire came through song, story, tradition and art? Why is it that the messages of a prophetic figure (King) are often reduced to “inoffensive sound bites” (65) when, as a matter of fact, they refused to be bought and spoke in both love and truth? What is the source of strength for a prophet (Baker) who combined cooking for the elderly and reading Gramsci “in the same afternoon” (95)? When a prophet (Malcolm X) is either sanitized or demonized (111), or even “commodified” (134), how do we understand the fire of their sincerity and truth telling today in a way that ignites rather than douses the spark of their propheticism? How do we learn to give the last word to a prophetic voice (Wells) too often forgotten? These are only some of the several questions that are addressed in this important book.
Who is a prophet? Noting the role of religion and religious symbols in the Black prophetic tradition, West insists that prophetic religion transfigures suffering into a “voice” that inspires vocation, generates vision and empowers the “wretched of the earth” (to use Frantz Fanon’s phrase) or “the least of these,” recalling Matthew 25 (24-25). Prophets are those who are less worried about “predicting an outcome” and more concerned with “concrete evil” (28). They dig beneath “the superficial, mediocre, mainstream” and grasp buried and hidden truths and unapologetically “take a stand” (33). Importantly, prophets deeply love the people with whom they work with and for whom they advocate. Those who claim to love a cause but not its people do disservice to the vocation of a prophet. In the words of Malcolm X, “If you can’t respect the brother and sister on the block, the Black brother and sister on the block, then you don’t really respect me” (117). Such are the prophets. Such are Black Prophetic voices—full of love, sincerity and truth.
While so much material from each chapter deserves attention in this review, Buschendorf and West make significant methodological moves worth noting here. For instance, West is self-critical as much as he is critical of others. Noting that women, despite their highly critical and history-changing contributions, are sidelined or forgotten, West and Buschendorf give Ida B. Wells “the last word” (139) and rightly so. After her parents’ death when she was only 16, Wells takes charge as the head of the family and cares for her siblings. She edits a newspaper and becomes “the first Black correspondent to a major white newspaper” (147), publicly denouncing lynching and speaking truth to power despite the threat of death from white elite. Indeed, Ida B. Wells took a stand in the spirit of all true and courageous prophets.
The conversation partners also repeatedly underscore that prophetic figures are not “self-made” (16). The guiding insight we learn from them is that we become who we are over time, being affected by those around us, which fundamentally shapes our self-identity. In making this point, West cautions readers against a hyper-individualism by observing that such a position is simply not true or possible. This is perhaps what Buschendorf had in mind when she writes in the Introduction, “I consider leaders and movements to be inseparable” (2). To give flesh to this important insight, consider some material from the chapter on Ella Baker, organizer par excellence. Baker recognized that it is the movement that made even great figures like King. Recognizing that prophets are not self-made acts as an antidote to “self-indulgence” and “narcissism” (96). Prophetic fire guards itself against believing that an individual person is “some grand messianic gift to the world” (96). To the contrary, everything depends on everyone. As Baker once put it, “It’s up to you. It’s up to you all. You all got to work it out. I am just one voice” (98). This mutuality and inter-dependence that every revolution is dependent on is an important insight that informs West and Buschendorf’s overall argument.
Of the other significant moves that the book makes, one more is worthy of attention here: democratic revolutions take time and effort. West notes that leadership is often charismatic and tied to what he calls “market time” (100), which is fast, grabs the headlines and elicits responses quickly. While such “market time” has its place in democratic revolution, West lifts up another way of organizing that he calls “democratic time” (100). Democratic time characterized the life and work of Black prophetic figures such as Ella Baker and Fannie Lou Hamer. Democratic time is slow. It is bottom-up. It works at the grass roots and brings about long-term change that is self-sustaining. Both kinds of organizing and “time” have their place and have different effects on political discourse and practice.
As already indicated, this book in the form of a dialogue is an important one and readers across the globe would benefit from paying attention to it. The concluding chapter, “Last Words on the Black Prophetic Tradition in the Age of Obama,” offers critical perspectives for consideration, particularly as we reflect on the 50th anniversary of one of the defining social movements in American history and in light of the various protests that have sprung up around the country in the wake of the deaths of unarmed Black men and women at the hands of the police. Do political systems drown prophetic fire? Are we today accustomed to “be polite” (163) in the face of brutal crimes and vicious systems of exploitation? How do we redeem the Black prophetic tradition and be redemptive in today’s world? The parting thought in the dialogue is phrased in the form of a question, inviting serious readers to respond and continue the conversation about the contributions of the Black prophetic tradition to the “the soul of our fragile democratic experiment,” and take questions of the future of that soul to their homes, streets, offices, classrooms, and movements.
