Just got back from a trip to Montana. This involves traveling through northern Idaho, something I never do without a certain amount of fear. Even though so far my travels have been uneventful, I�m uncomfortably aware of the proximity of several neo-nazi, white supremacist groups. Every time we stop for gas or to stretch our legs, I find myself looking at the eyes of the people I see�completely ordinary-looking people�and trying to discern which of them is a bomb, just waiting for the fuse to be lit.
It�s chilling to think that racists, violent ones, can look so normal. Those guys who killed the talk show host in Colorado looked a lot like the guy who drives the schoolbus, like the nice man at the grocery store�like people you�d trust, just because trusting is the way you naturally do things.
I suppose I shouldn�t admit that I�m scared. Isn�t that what they want�to scare the rest of us into immobility? I�ve thought for a long time that one of the best tactics against hate groups would be to laugh at them�treat them like a quaint, amusing tourist attraction. �Hey Maude! Look, they have a real KKK man here! Go stand next to him so I can get a picture!� Laughter takes away the power of evil.
But even as I�m laughing, I�m scared. I�ve spent a lot of time online talking to racists, not all of them violent, and brushed up against Evil. I haven�t believed in Evil as a separate force since I was fourteen or so, but the madness in racism often goes beyond mere confusion or stupidity or the other foibles I�ve assumed were behind people�s nasty deeds. The very core of racism is Evil�a denial of connection. Recognition that people who are not-like-self in some ways can be like-self in other ways is what allows social relationships to exist at all. To deny that these connections exist, and attempt to sever them, tears at the very idea of social life�and, therefore, at concepts like ethics and justice. That�s Evil. That�s what Evil does.
What scares me most is this: I can�t imagine the racists I question online as babies. Intellectually I know that once they had baby-grins and bright eyes and the ten cutest toes mama ever saw. But I just can�t imagine them, these bastards who speak so casually of murder and genocide, in their innocent state. It seems inconceivable that a baby�so much like one of my babies�could grow into a monster. I can�t find those same social connections between me and them. I am afraid of my own inability to empathize.
What�s there to say after that? I�ve come to a limit inside myself. There are people I just can�t care much for. It�s a stalemate in the game of self-reflection: by being unable to perceive them as like-me, I become, in a small way, like-them. Wish I could figure out what to do about this. There probably is nothing that can be done besides recognize my own weakness, and do my best.
