Slavery has been called America's original sin. And in an era where the official occupants of the White House are an African-American family, partly descended from slaves, it may seem easy for many Americans to pat themselves on the back. Look how far we've come, they'll say. They're right, but only partly.
Like Lady Macbeth, the United States will never completely rub the blood off its hands. Nor should it try. Americans' duty is certainly not to pay for the sins of its fathers, just as Germans are not responsible for Nazi crimes against Jews and others. But Americans, like Germans, do have an important responsibility to uphold.
Holocaust survivor Eli Wiesel writes: "The duty of the survivor is to bear testimony to what happened . . . You have to warn people that these things can happen, that evil can be unleashed. Race hatred, violence, idolatries—they still flourish."
But Wiesel is only half right. The survivor's burden to bear testimony ought to be shared with the children of the perpetrators who must freely acknowledge the crimes committed by their ancestors so that, together, descendants of the victims and criminals can ensure atrocities like this never happen again.
How do you acknowledge such monstrous crimes? The best way, it seems to me, is through the power of stories, told generation after generation, that can teach and remind us of man's inhumanity, so no one forgets.
Twelve Years A Slave is this testimonial story for our own generation. The film, written by John Ridley and directed by Steve McQueen, is a fictionalized adaptation of the 1853 autobiography by Solomon Northup, a free black man who was kidnapped in Washington, D.C., in 1841 and sold into slavery. Twelve Years would have been a great film if it had simply focused on the crimes of Southern slave owners and their sadistic underlings. But what makes it so memorable and powerful are the complex portrayals of the slaves who, broken and paralyzed with existential fear, could do nothing to stop the barbarism yet still managed to survive.
Some have wondered, immersed in the luxury of their comfortable, democratic 21st century life, why Jews "let themselves" be herded off to concentration camps without much of a fight and how, once there, they didn't rebel against the much smaller number of Nazis who ran these slaughterhouses. Embarrassingly, the same thought crossed my mind as I watched scenes in this movie in which slaves might have, at any given moment, torn their slavemasters to bits and taken over whole plantations.
But enslaved blacks knew, as Jews did in Germany and Eastern Europe, that the system was nearly hopelessly stacked against them and that, even if they achieved some small temporary victory, armies and the law would find them guilty. Even when there seemed to be a chance to escape, there never really was. The South was a prison, a gulag, and blacks knew they were trapped. Even for men like Northup who eventually managed to escape, there was no justice. The men who kidnapped him never had their own freedom taken away from them.
When stupid white men today demean blacks, call them lazy, monkey, n*gger, even question their legitimacy as real Americans, or when they ask how long whites have to be subjected to black "whining" about slavery, they reveal how ignorant they are of America's greatest crime and why the testimonial power of stories like 12 Years A Slave is still so important.
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