The Nobel Prize committee has the chance to signal a better future for a prize with a fraught past.
I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice — Dr. Marin Luther King Jr. "Letter From Birmingham Jail" 1963
Nominations have been announced for the 2021 Nobel Peace Prize.
Among notable nominees are Ivanka Trump's husband Jared Kushner, politician and voting rights activist Stacey Abrams, and the Black Lives Matter movement. Depending on your political biases, you likely find at least one of those nominations offensive, though it should be noted that the list of nominees is long, and anyone can be nominated.
In this case, Black Lives Matter was nominated by Petter Eide, a member of Norway's parliament. As for Jared Kushner, he was nominated along with former Special Representative for International Negotiations Avi Berkowitz — the famed Harvard law professor, Trump sycophant, and defense attorney for O.J. Simpson and Jeffrey Epstein. Kushner and Berkowitz played central roles in brokering the Abraham Accords declaring, "Peace, Cooperation, and Constructive Diplomatic and Friendly Relations" between the US, Israel, Bahrain, and the UAE.
The Abraham Accords: The PR of the 'peace deals' | The Listening Post www.youtube.com
At face value many Americans would no doubt see the negotiation of a peace deal as more legitimate grounds for nomination than a protest movement that sparked violent confrontation with police and counter protesters around the country in 2020. And, if we look at the history of the Peace Prize, there is a sense in which they would be right — the prize has often been awarded for superficial diplomatic theater rather than the real and often messy work of addressing injustice.
The Fraught History of the Nobel Peace Prize
In 1928, Secretary of State Frank Kellogg received the prize for getting all the world's major powers to officially, meaninglessly renounce war...shortly before Hitler took power in Germany. Another Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger, was selected by the Nobel Committee for negotiating a cease fire with Vietnam in 1973 — the same year it was revealed that he had masterminded a secret carpet bombing campaign in Cambodia, which is credited with giving rise to the genocidal Khmer Rouge.
More recently, in 2009, Barack Obama was given the Peace Prize just for being elected president — in a move Obama acknowledged as premature. And in 2020, Donald Trump's son-in-law and his buddy Avi were nominated for the award for arranging "peace" between nations that were never at war — with a substantial arms deal thrown in for good measure.
To put it bluntly, it would make nearly as much sense for Jared Kushner to win the Nobel Peace Prize as it did for a number of other recipients with dubious claims to peace work. By contrast, in 1948 the Nobel committee chose not to award anyone — rather than acknowledge Mohandas Gandhi's work in pushing for Indian independence from Britain.
Historically the committee has often erred on the side of the powerful — rewarding hollow and hypocritical displays of diplomacy over the controversy that tends to arise around grassroots struggles. So while it may be unlikely that Kushner and Berkowitz will receive the peace prize, neither would it really be surprising.
But with Black History Month kicking off, it's worth articulating not just why their diplomacy is underwhelming, but why the Black Lives Matter movement deserves recognition for advancing the global fight against injustice.
No Justice, No Peace
While extensive efforts have been made to paint the Black Lives Matter movement as violent, anti-White, and at the political fringes, in reality it is the largest and most racially diverse protest movement in American history. And considering the thousands of demonstrations that have taken place, involving many millions of individuals, the relative lack of violence from the protesters is much more worthy of note than a handful of dramatic scenes.
Compared to the January 6th Trump rally, where a crowd of around 30,000 spawned a violent insurrection — which was handled with kid gloves by the police and led to five deaths — the 15 million plus who participated in BLM marches in 2020 were remarkably peaceful. The same cannot be said for far too many of police who patrolled those marches and gave proof to the brutality that inspired them.
A compilation of videos that captures how police officers incite violence. How are they responding to protests ag… https://t.co/7rBOh3OHMP— Simran Jeet Singh (@Simran Jeet Singh)1590893613.0
And though regrettable incidents of arson and violence have undeniably taken place in connection with BLM demonstrations, the alternative was not "peace."
What is often overlooked in discussions of peace is the reality of social and political injustice as among the most prevalent forms of violence on Earth. When millions of people, targeted through no fault of their own, are systemically dehumanized — their lives and their contributions devalued and their opportunities for life, liberty and pursuit of happiness both deliberately and incidentally truncated for centuries — that is violence that destroys lives on another scale altogether.
For Black Americans that obviously means slavery and its aftermath, as well as segregation and the continued legacies of practices like redlining. But it also means a so-called "war on drugs" that treats addiction as a crime rather than an illness and disproportionately targets and locks up Black Americans, depriving too many children of their parents.
It means racist police procedures like Stop and Frisk, as well as the implicit (and often explicit) racial biases of the officers themselves. It means making it nearly impossible for people convicted of felonies within this unjust, racist system to live within the bounds of the law, depriving them — as well as millions of Black Americans who haven't been convicted of anything — of the right to participate in democracy and change the system that treats them so cruelly.
And none of this even covers the immense wealth inequality that makes life harder for almost all Americans — though, again, the harm is leveled disproportionately against Black Americans. All of these ordinary and unacceptable aspects of American life are violence — "the negative peace which is the absence of tension."
They destabilize communities, families, and individual lives. And that violence came to a head in June, following the horrific killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer over a suspected counterfeit $20 bill.
While far from the only evidence of systemic racism in America, the murder of unarmed Black men, women, and children by police and by racist vigilantes who — more often than not — are allowed to walk free, is perhaps its most blatant and disgusting expression.
And the names of the slain — Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray, Philando Castille, too many more to mention — have become rallying cries.
A Black Lives Matter protester carrying a counter protester to safety in London
With all the domestic resistance the protests met from people who insist on spitting "all lives matter!" (as if fighting for the value of Black lives implied otherwise) and "blue lives matter!" (as if the safety of police officers depends on their ability to shoot unarmed Black men, women, and children without consequence), it would be easy to lose sight of how much support the movement has received overseas. While the movement was started in America, the impact has been global.
"Injustice Anywhere Is a Threat to Justice Everywhere"
The reality of living as a dehumanized minority in a bigoted society is sadly all too common in the world. And while not everywhere is as bad in this respect as America, the recognition sparked protests of solidarity and of common cause around the world.
Like the civil rights movement of the 1960s, Black Lives Matter has continued the fight for America to live up to its promise. Because right now "the land of the free" is home to a carceral state where more people are imprisoned than anywhere else on Earth, and citizens are killed by police at a higher rate than in any comparable nation.
Because the systems that were deliberately set up to keep newly freed Black citizens oppressed following the Civil War were never truly purged — have been covertly bolstered and supplemented ever since.
That is not peace. Only a stable form of violence.
A cartoon from the 1960s My father wasn’t beloved by America. In ‘Letter From Birmingham Jail,’ he responded to 8… https://t.co/ygwaqnWoO9— Be A King (@Be A King)1611017549.0
In 1964 the Nobel committee opted not to side with power. It was the same year the FBI sent a harassing letter to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., urging him to commit suicide.
He was considered by FBI director J. Edgar Hoover — and many others in positions of power within the American government — to be an enemy of the state. There is even reason to believe that these forces were directly involved in his 1968 assassination.
His protest movement was disruptive to the normal order of American life that most white Americans were content to maintain. Many balked at the idea that it could be called peaceful. But the Nobel committee selected him for the honor of the Nobel Peace Prize. It was a serious signal that the world was watching how America handled peaceful dissent.
Did that make a difference in passing the voting rights act of 1965? Who can say? But the Nobel committee has a similar opportunity this year.
What Black Lives Matter has been fighting for in recent months is the "positive peace" King spoke of as "the presence of justice." With that in mind — and with some uncertainty remaining as to how a decentralized, leaderless movement of millions can receive an award — the Nobel committee should take seriously the option of selecting Black Lives Matter.
Martin Luther King Jr. Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech www.youtube.com
There are no doubt many nominees whom the committee could select for the Peace Prize — including Jared Kushner. And some who would even be worthy — including Stacey Abrams.
But the significance of acknowledging a grassroots fight for justice that was centuries in the making (in a nation which — for all its flaws — continues to shape culture around the world) is too powerful to deny.
An honest reflection on race, inequality, and justice in America
February 26, 2018 will mark the six year anniversary of Trayvon Martin's death. His killer, George Zimmerman, was acquitted of all charges on July 13, 2013. The tale of unarmed black men being killed in America is one that seems to be never-ending. Stories of unarmed African Americans being gunned down at the hands of law enforcement circulate throughout the news cycle as frequently as weather updates. Trayvon became a martyr at only 17 years old. His death was the pinch that woke America up from the dream of "racial equality" that had been conjured with the election of our first Black president four years before his murder. The Dog-whistle-politics that stemmed from this case would've made Lassie's head explode. Right wing talking heads went as far as to blame Trayvon's death on the hoodie he was wearing. Some feel that had he not been wearing said hoodie that made him look "suspicious," Martin would still be alive today.
I was 24 when Trayvon's young life was taken from him. I didn't grasp the magnitude of the situation when it happened. Not because I didn't have sympathy for a life being lost, but because I didn't understand why so much emphasis was put on race. To me, Zimmerman was just another trigger happy hick with emotional issues. Plus, I had grown weary of my people automatically dubbing something as racist when the offender wasn't a minority. I wasn't that naive that I believed racism didn't still exist. I also didn't think that it would still be so obvious in 2012. I, too, rocked gently to sleep by the lullaby "Yes, We Can!" As more and more cases like Trayvon dominated the media, I started to run out of excuses as to why these killings weren't an offshoot of racist behavior.
I could understand one or two every few years, but it was almost everyday I was hearing that a brother without any weapon was killed by a cop. I couldn't say that it was specific to one area either. These killings were happening in different parts of the country. Now at 30, I'm more aware that the scales of justice rarely tip in the favor of people who share the same skin color as myself. That coded language used to describe people of color is no longer encrypted. I find this sort of tension in my body whenever I'm in the presence of law enforcement even though I'm not doing anything illegal. I think about my contrasting mind state from the time when Trayvon was killed compared to now, and I ask myself "Why was I so disconnected from my blackness?"
At a certain age, I felt that being thought of as a Black person first and foremost was very limiting. The fact that I was black was obvious, but I did not feel it needed to be my primary identity. In my mind, I felt being connected to my blackness meant that I went around introducing myself like "Hi, I'm Dwayne! I'm Black! A pleasure to meet you!" My family is Black and we lived in a Black neighborhood. I enjoyed "Black" things like Hip-Hop music, soul food, and basketball. I had Black teachers all the way up until high school. In elementary school, they made us read poems by Langston Hughes and books by Lorraine Hansberry. During Black History Month, the students put on performances for the whole school. My "Black Card" had been validated a long time ago in mine eyes.
Fast Forward to Cardinal Spellman High School and suddenly I'm exposed to different cultures on a broader level. I'd been around black people my whole life, so I became fascinated with the idea of interacting with students from other ethnicities. I developed friendships and relationships with people from other races that I've maintained to this day. I still managed to fit in with the black students to an extent because I was the designated rapper, but not as much as I would've liked. Our common interests weren't in abundance. They were into the latest Jordans, 106 & Park, and going to the movies at Bay Plaza. I was into The Simpsons, Linkin Park, and perfecting the concept of being the Emo kid from the hood. I wasn't a jock, a troublemaker, class clown, or a Straight-A student. I was just Dwayne, an individual, not just another Black kid.
Unbeknown to me, I've experienced racism and racial profiling as an adult on various occasions. I say "unbeknown" because at the time I didn't think of it as such. I've been stopped by a police officer, frisked, and asked if I was on probation or parole. I remember visiting a friend who lived in a predominantly white neighborhood. I was stopped by a patrol car because according to them, one of the residents said there was a man in a hoodie that looked "suspicious" (There goes that word, again). I would visit my white friends and have dinner with their families. They were warm, inviting, and treated me like one of their children. Later, I would discover that they would use racial slurs towards Black people in casual conversation among each other. These slurs weren't directed towards me in particular, but the "bad ones." I was one of the "good ones."
I didn't get what made me so "different" in their eyes. Was it because I had gone to parochial school for a great portion of my upbringing? Was it because I was great at articulating myself? Was it the fact that I could speak Italian? I felt I was privileged being able to be in places that a lot of black people weren't. To me, I felt I had transcended race and I was being judged by the content of my character not the color of my skin. I was Dr. King's dream personified. I had encountered people who loved Black culture, but for some reason didn't love Black people the same way. I went from feeling like a king to a jester.
There will never be a time in this country when race and color won't be a factor. It's a sad reality that we don't want to embrace, but an honest one nonetheless. As a youth, I held firmly to this concept of being an individual first and a skin color second. I was conditioned to think that the darkness of your skin was not a restriction on your ability to succeed. Though that may not have been one hundred percent the case for me, it does not mean that it hasn't the case for others. Trayvon Martin would've turned 23 February third of this year. Racial profiling and devilish acts are reasons why he wasn't here to celebrate it. His story is another reminder of America's continuous misunderstanding and mistreatment of its people of color.
I no longer feel that being recognized as an African American man first is an attempt at marginalization. I cherish my blackness more than I've ever had before. I'm still an individual, but I am an individual that shares the plight of others who look just like me. We are far removed from slavery and Jim Crow in regards to time. However, the lingering effects are hovering over our nation like one big divisive black cloud. My experiences have led me to a sobering revelation. That revelation is that you may forget what you undoubtedly are, but there will be people and situations for better or worse that will remind you.