To Kneel or Not To Kneel?

In 1968 three human beings rocketed around the far side of the moon at over 20,000 miles per hour. They found themselves surrounded by absolute silence as they punched a hole through this cosmic barrier.

In his third season as Captain James Tiberius Kirk, Star Trek actor William Shatner watched along with a mesmerized nation as these real-life astronauts cruised "where no man had gone before." This was a badly needed moment of unity and progress at the end of a turbulent year.

Back on January 30, North Vietnam had launched the Tet Offensive throughout South Vietnam in a widespread attempt to spark a general uprising against US forces. While the effort was ultimately suppressed, it sent American confidence in the Vietnam War to an all time low.

On April 4, thirty-nine year-old Martin Luther King Junior was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee.

On June 5, Presidential Candidate Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated in Los Angeles.

And finally, on October 16 in Mexico City, two American sprinters took the Olympic podium to receive metals in the 200 meter dash. Tommie Smith and John Carlos, who respectively finished first and third, chose to transform the medal ceremony into a moment of protest.

Sharing a single pair of black gloves, Smith raised his right fist and Carlos his left while America's National Anthem echoed throughout Olympic Stadium. They wore black stockings on their shoeless feet to protest black poverty, while Smith wore a black scarf to show black pride. Carlos' unzipped tracksuit was to show solidarity with blue collar workers, and his necklace of beads memorialized blacks who had been unjustly lynched or killed throughout history. These American athletes, along with Australian silver medalist Peter Norman, also wore OPHR badges (Olympic Project for Human Rights), representing the global quest for racial equality both in and beyond the Games.

Carlos and Smith were immediately chastised for turning an apolitical moment of world unity into a divisive political protest, to the extent that they were expelled from the Games. Back home, they were criticized in the media and, quite tragically, their families even received death threats.

It took years for the athletes to be honored for giving voice to issues of race, which were both painful and pronounced leading up to that moment.

America has a rich legacy of peaceful and non-violent protest, which has prompted the nation to understand and eventually reject many forms of injustice. But often, protests attract a spectrum of movements with different values and tactics, some of which are quite chaotic or disruptive.

Look no further than the recent Occupy, Black Lives Matter, and DAPL campaigns to see this reality in practice. Movements often begin with heartfelt concerns, but degenerate as the lack of clarity and leadership attracts misguided dissenters who fill the void with general discontent and a will to disrupt society.

Most recently, an increasing number of NFL football players have adopted the practice of quarterback Colin Kaepernick, in which they kneel (or exit the arena) during the National Anthem. "I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color," Kaepernick once stated during a press conference.

One would expect the increased participation to stem from a rise of alleged police brutality, given that it was primary among Kaepernick's original complaints. But that's not the case. Instead, it relates to President Donald Trump's adamant rejection of this form of protest, in which he encouraged NFL owners to discipline or even fire players for what he believes to be disrespectful and unpatriotic. [For the record, Trump's approach was in his usual undignified tone and once again devoid of class, which did more to inflame tensions than just about anything else.]

So what began out of concern for police brutality toward African Americans has become a general act of defiance against the childish demeanor of sitting President.

This display of free speech can be seen as positive for a number of reasons. It embodies the liberty enjoyed in this nation that citizens in places like North Korea and Iran could only long for, which is the ability to publicly disagree with authorities. It also highlights the importance of racial equality as an undying value in a nation that once enslaved millions of African Americans. We need to continue to work against racism, because humanity has a way of falling into that pit no matter how civilized we understand ourselves to be. Finally, it is peaceful and reflective in demeanor (so far at least), lacking the violence and vandalism that too often infects protest movements. Kaepernick and other players who started this kneeling trend wanted to find the most respectful posture of protest out of a compulsion to honor their own consciences regarding perceived social injustice.

We must remember from the Mexico City Olympics that strong reactions against this kind of protest can feel justified in the moment but regrettable down the road. So we must voice concerns with an openness to alternative views and respect toward all people. We must be humble and willing to change our mind if sufficient reason demands it.

Given this important caveat, I share four concerns about the act of conscientious kneeling below. I share these not to demand that the practice be put to a halt, but to question its effectiveness in improving the problem of racism in our culture.

1. It's proven to be divisive. This act of protest politicizes a weekly event that has traditionally united people and players from every race around a traditional pastime and a moment of patriotism. Instead of seeking an alternative space to voice their concerns, these players choose to usurp a ritual designated for national solidarity and gratitude. We forget that The National Anthem is already a demonstration of patriotism, respect for our forefathers, and gratitude for freedom and sacrifice. Using this occasion to protest thrusts all players and fans into an alternative political demonstration that detracts from the values they wish to uphold. Instead of posting comments online and delivering speeches to rallies, these players have drawn the attention that would otherwise be upon the nation's flag.

2. It overlooks gratitude. The act of standing during the National Anthem does not mean that one likes the current president, embraces societal oppression, or endorses episodes of injustice throughout American history. It means that we've benefited from the acts of sacrifice and heroism of those who have fought, bled, and died so that we could stand (or kneel) on free soil. These war heroes were sent home to loved ones in bodybags and coffins that were draped with the American flag, many of whom were African Americans who believed that this nation was worth standing for despite its failures and flaws.

This act also fails to acknowledge the miles of progress we've made since black and white soldiers gave their lives in the Civil War. It doesn't affirm the accomplishments of Civil Rights activists or savor the courage of athletes like Jackie Robinson, who broke the color barrier in professional sports. It doesn't bask in the death of Jim Crow Laws or honor a nation that has elected an African-American President. It seems to doubt that any real progress has been made since the anthem protest of the 1968 Olympics.

3. It could be endless. This and other protest movements tend to suffer from a lack of vision for a clear form of resolution. Can anyone say when the flag will be worth standing for if it's still a reason to protest? When will the National Anthem be a chorus of unity if one can still find reason for dissent? If the racial advancements of the last sixty years have not given us a valid reason to stand and honor the nation that produced them, when will we ever be satisfied or at least proud of our progress?

Will we ever stand again?

Most protestors do not articulate an end point or goal upon which their objective will be met--they simply don't have one. For too many, protest has become a way of life, by which people see themselves as either victims entitled to recompense or saviors who claim moral superiority. In twenty years, therefore, we can expect to see similar displays no matter what advancements are made, which obscures and trivializes the reality of progress itself.

At some point, we must all choose between progress or protest.

4. It creates what it protests. We look forward to the day that Martin Luther King Jr. dreamed about, when race would simply be too narrow a category for defining one's personhood, and when the prejudice of skin color wouldn't be used to either validate or nullify ones value or perspective. But now, it seems that a protestor's ideal is a color-based society comprised of victims and oppressors. No longer is our dream to see past skin color, but rather to elevate racial categories in a manner that "colors" all human experience.

In his work as a therapist, rabbi, and political and organizational consultant, Edwin Friedman found it harmful to emphasize ethnicity and race in such a primary way. Such prejudice, he believed, becomes a "cultural camouflage" that strips people of accountability for their actions and emotional processes. Instead, Friedman equipped clients to identify and preserve their sense of self while maintaining close proximity to others. Against the reflexive urge to classify people and behavior in racial terms, he applied universal truths about human life and relationships that allowed clients to achieve healthy outcomes.

This was in fact a point that President Barak Obama and the First Lady routinely made when speaking to members of the black community. The former president encouraged black fathers to take ownership over their decisions and families rather than blaming society. Obama's approach infuriated activists like Rev. Jesse Jackson, who in 2008 expressed the desire to castrate the chief executive for "talking down to black people." Jackson would apparently prefer to fixate on racism to rectify society's ills, demanding that personal responsibility be jettisoned from the dialogue

Those of us with white skin can and must learn from the experience of the minorities in our neighborhoods and nation. We must befriend and live alongside one another to discover both our common humanity and unique differences. And we must diligently seek to prevent racism in all its forms, both on an individual and corporate level, working against this evil through effective means. But we must not do so in a way that perpetuates racial stereotypes and rejects personal responsibility. If we settle for a racial world without individual accountability, we must accept a racially divided world.

On November 22, 1968, a month after the controversial medal ceremony in Mexico City, a Star Trek episode featured the first interracial kiss between Captain Kirk (William Shatner) and African American actress, Nichelle Nichols. Amidst the dialogue, Kirk uttered the prophetic line, "Where I come from, size, shape, or color makes no difference." Shatner had intentionally botched alternative takes that omitted the kiss in order to force the network to air the controversial smooch.

Shatner's lips were still tingling from the barrier-breaking kiss the following Christmas Eve as he watched the Apollo 8 crew orbiting the moon on his black and white television screen. For the briefest of moments, these were not white men on the moon, or even Americans; they were members of the human race pursuing the extra-terrestrial aspirations of their kindred.

In scratchy radio voices, the crew described the desolate surface of the moon's far side before speaking directly to people of every race and nation, "For all the people back on Earth, the crew of Apollo 8 has a message we would like to send to you."

The crew then read the creation story of Genesis 1, which describes a God who spoke clearly and powerfully into chaos to create light and life, including a single race of humans that were made in His own image. They ended with the benediction:

"We close with goodnight, good luck, a Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you, all of you on the good earth."

The tumultuous year of 1968 ended with a Christmas gift, a high note that briefly transcended the formidable wall of race, so that we could peer at the far side of the human frontier and--perhaps--blow a kiss toward Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream of a color-blind planet.

Matthew M. Anderson is the author of Running Mate and The Marriage Plan. A speaker and leadership coach, Matt is the pastor of Surprise Church in Bismarck, ND, where he lives with his wife and three children. Learn more at MatthewManderson.com.