Drinking Hemlock with DuBois
A few hours ago, Dr. W. E. B. DuBois and I had a fatal
conversation.
The only reason he condescended to talk with me was our
being members of the same fraternity. We
sipped hemlock and talked about higher education. I had an interest in revisiting an old
critique, namely “The Future and Function of the Private Negro College.” Crisis 53 (1946): 234-46, 253-54.
Portions of the article are apt descriptions of 2014.
“You were merely three years old,” Dr. DuBois said, “when
I published that article.” Removing his
glasses, he scanned my face. “I am much disappointed that your contemporaries
are so dense in your understanding of double consciousness, for you confuse a
rhetorical gesture with a statement of reality. I am disappointed that you are
incapable of distinguishing a spatial description from a temporal one. The same poverty of reason colors your
unscientific apologizing for the twenty-first-century HBCU, as you call
it. You need instruction.” Like a buck startled by the headlights of an
automobile, I felt paralyzed. Dr. DuBois carefully turned pages in The Education of Black People, 2nd
edition, 2001.
“It is reasonable that you should think my sentence
Today the private
institutions are facing the fact that unless they receive increased
contributions, not now in sight, and these funds reach large figures, they must
either close or become fully state schools (182).
refers to 2014.”
He commenced to quoting his bullet points:
·
“,,,endowments
are not eternal and can only be depended upon for relatively short periods”(184)
·
“…are these
institutions worth saving?” (185)
·
“…is their
fate either to become state schools or disappear?” (185)
·
“There
would certainly seem to be a distinct place in the educational world for some
private institutions whose support is such that they would be free to teach
what they thought ought to be taught,
particularly in the critical and developing field of social investigations”
(186).
·
“In their
haste to become Americans, their desire not be peculiar or segregated in mind
or body, they try to escape their cultural heritage and the body of experience
why they themselves have built up” (187).
Before I could ask whether he was alluding to Langston
Hughes, he said with great emphasis, “I
am convinced that there is a place and a continuing function for the small
Negro college” (187).
I swallowed two sips of hemlock. “But, Dr. DuBois…” Ignoring my effort to speak, he read in a
loud voice “They would not be subservient
to the dominant wealth of the country; they would not be under the control of
politics in a state now directed for the most part by prejudiced persons guide
by a definite ideal of racial discrimination” (188).
“But, Dr. DuBois, the small HBCUs and small institutions
in general are enslaved by global economy and special interests, and so too are
large, handsomely endowed, research institutions.”
“You do not listen critically,” his words of genteel
anger descending like a veil over my eyes. “I am convinced there is a continuing
function for the five small HBCUs that shall survive the twenty-first century.”
Stoned by the hemlock, I saw he was saying something of great importance but could
not hear what he was saying. Such is the
effect of talented treason.
Jerry W. Ward, Jr.
February 25, 2014
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