Today dominative power operates apart from, and exterior to, those state governmentalities that the "body politics" of Stanley Hauerwas disavows as "constantinian" entanglements such as military service, governmental office, and conspicuous expressions of civil religion. This is especially true with respect to those biopolitical modalities David Theo Goldberg names as "racelessness," by which material inequalities are racially correlated, thereby allowing whiteness to mediate life and ration death. If, as Hauerwas contends, radical ecclesiology is indeed a theopolitical alternative to the nation–state's (...) politics of violence, then it must prove itself resistant to such racialized violence. However, inasmuch as the (largely) uncontested fact of ecclesial segregation recapitulates these broader stratifications and exclusions, the church functions as a passive civil religion and itself participates in the politics of "nonviolent violence." Thus, Hauerwas must do something that he has been reluctant to do. He must talk about race and racism more directly, specifying how his ecclesiological theopolitics resists such forms of violence; more importantly, he must demonstrate how actual ecclesial congregations instantiate such resistance. In short, to be truly nonviolent, Hauerwas's body politics must become a politics of bodies. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Dear White Christians: For Those Still Longing for Racial Reconciliation by Jennifer HarveyMichelle WolffDear White Christians: For Those Still Longing for Racial Reconciliation Jennifer Harvey grand rapids, mi: eerdmans, 2014. 262 pp. $25.00Absent of opaque theory and disembodied ideology, Jennifer Harvey’s Dear White Christians: For Those Still Longing for Racial Reconciliation presents an indispensable introduction to the problem of “whiteness” illustrated with concrete examples from US history. Harvey’s (...) text clearly communicates the trouble with invoking universalism, colorblindness, and most specifically reconciliation as means of improving race relations. Alternatively, in the spirit of the Black Power movement, Harvey suggests that reparations more effectively atone for racism. [End Page 202]Harvey begins with a sympathetic account of churches seeking integration as the logical counter to segregation within the context of midcentury US history. While these approaches align with the ideals of the civil rights movement, Harvey goes on to elucidate the limitations of what she calls a “reconciliation paradigm.” Pointedly, Harvey asserts that reconciliation efforts fail to acknowledge the problem of whiteness (11). She therefore provocatively contends that “to be white is to be in a state of profound moral crisis” (56). This is because white identity has been constituted by violence, consistently benefits materially from that violence, and remains indistinguishable from white supremacy’s agenda (52–55). For this reason, black identity, according to Harvey, is never parallel to white identity. Reconciliation, then, problematically masks such difference via appeals to universalism.Harvey adroitly reorients approaches to problem solving away from white progressive efforts and good intentions by attending instead to African American experience, history, and requests (11–12). For this reason, she prioritizes Black Power movements over civil rights movements (65). The former Harvey understands as properly focusing on power differentials, rather than separation, as the primary issue (106). In so doing, Harvey underscores white folks’ culpability in failing to secure reparations for African Americans.In the final section of her book, Harvey describes specific US churches’ attempts at reparations programs. This section, including some of the most demonstrative and relatable chapters, contains concrete examples that echo the defensiveness, pain, and good will that frequently surface on the part of white folks in conversations about race (228–29). The process of collecting these stories and histories appears to have been nearly as beneficial as Harvey’s proposed reparations program, for history functions as confession here (206). In addition, even these constructive chapters resist an optimistic gloss on the flawed and painstaking work of reparations programs (211).Although Harvey touches on other forms of reparations, she consistently returns to economic efforts as most pressing. While financial and material reparations are immediate and measurable, and therefore consistent with the author’s preference for pragmatism over theory, they obfuscate the pervasive disadvantages that people of color suffer in the United States today. Equal candidates for employment with identical resumes, for example, too frequently experience the bias of gender and race as signified in the candidate’s name. One’s gender performance and sexual identity can exacerbate such discrimination. These gesture at the role of social currency that permeates communal life even more thoroughly than material wealth. This is to say that reparations are an important aspect for “interrupting whiteness,” and yet they cannot be the conclusion to a more just and equitable church and society.Harvey’s extraordinarily accessible text propels conversations on ethical living in classrooms, churches, and politics. Her assessment of the problem [End Page 203] of whiteness and constructive alternative suggestion for reparations efficiently prime readers for open dialogue and practical action.Michelle WolffDuke UniversityCopyright © 2016 Society of Christian Ethics... (shrink)

The question of the relation of my work to that of Martin Luther King Jr. cannot be resolved with the theoretical tools Christopher Beem brings to the task. Stanley Fish has written that "those who detach King's words from the history that produced them erase the fact of that history from the slate, and they do so, paradoxically, in order to prevent that history from being truly and deeply altered." The vice of liberalism is not selfishness so much as a (...) forgetfulness that spreads like a blight from the habit of abstraction. Martin Luther King Jr. remembered his people, his savior, and his church, and he called the rest of us to share those memories. Therein lay his strength. (shrink)