Interview with Cornel West (Part 1)

"When arrested, threatened, or persecuted, I give myself permission to be full of righteous indignation and moral outrage but I try to never allow righteous indignation to degenerate into bitter revenge, or let moral outrage become hateful anger. ... I retain a painful simile on my face even as I respond to the undeniable hurt with intense ethical energy."

--West, Cornel. Brother West: Living and Loving Out Loud, A Memoir. New York: Smiley Books, 2009, p. 125.

Many know him as The Scholar, The Philosopher, The Teacher and, even, The Preacher. But when it's all said and done, he would rather be referred to simply as--"a cracked vessel named West."

For more than three decades now, Dr. Cornel West's work has found refuge in the hearts of millions who've exposed themselves to his many writings on Race, Culture, Media, Democracy, Empire, Religion, Morality, Philosophy, and Music.

In these years, he's been largely regarded one of America's foremost public minds on contemporary issues, for challenging readers and thinkers alike to engage the world with a passion for justice and a thirst for fairness.   

He's written and edited more than 20 books; but not until now did he decide to "reflect on my own life, on the dark precincts of my own soul." His latest book, Brother West: Living and Loving Out Loud, is a brave attempt in that direction.   

I recently had the honor of engaging Dr. West in a wide-ranging dialogue on some of the personal, professional, and prophetic issues raised in his memoir:   

Brother West, how have you been, Sir?

I've been on the run, but it's a blessing to talk to you.

You've written and edited many books, but never came close enough to an autobiographical chronicle. How did Brother West come to be?

Well, my dear Brother Tavis Smiley asked me to think about writing about my life. I never really had the time to just sit back and reflect on my own life, on the dark precincts of my own soul. And so, I said, that's a wonderful idea. And writing about your life is just life-transforming, because you have to examine some things that you haven't looked at for too long.

And did you ever feel some resentment at having to air out so much of your personal story--which contains almost as many narratives of failure as it does victory?

You feel kind of naked--existentially naked, Brother. Definitely. But if you figure you can help somebody, touch somebody's life, help them deal with some of the funk in their life (we all got funk in our life), and help people cultivate the capacity to love and to think more critically and have hope, then I figure it can be of use to somebody--because the fundamental aim is to help somebody.

What does it mean to live and love out loud? And what are the consequences involved as opposed to, say, doing it away from the scrutinizing attention of the dominant public?

I think, anytime you do anything out loud--whether live or love--you're subject to being misunderstood and misconstrued, and so, you want to be able to speak your truth in a humble manner, and stand in your truth--which means willing to pay a cost and make a sacrifice, and, at the same time, open up enough to learn from others. The book, in a certain sense, is about the power of love and education.

From family, church, coaches, to athletic teachers, all the love that I've [received] just makes me saturated in love. And, at the same time, [using] education in such a way that it can touch souls, unsettle minds, and awaken hearts. That's really what it's all about.

You posed a question: "[I]s it possible to love oppressed people and not be a fanatic for fairness?"

Anytime you love folk--especially poor folk, especially Black people--you cannot but be a fanatic for fairness; you cannot but be somebody who is just obsessed with fairness.

To put it another way: If you really love folk, you despise the fact that they've been treated unfairly. You can't help yourself: You got to say something, you got to write something.

In the book, you write: "... [B]y giving one's heart and soul to uplift others through one's art, one's vocation, voice and vision are fulfilled." The first connection I made with that was Tolstoy, who wrote in Family Happiness: "... [I]n life there is only one certain happiness--living for others." How has that shaped your life ministry?

Well, I learned that in Shiloh Baptist Church [Sacramento, CA]. And Tolstoy had that same insight. The greatest joy that you [can] have in life is the joy of loving others and serving others--beginning with your mama, your kids, your friends, your spouses, and whomever. And to be able to allow that joy to be connected to your larger vocation in life--reading, writing and so forth--and still be able to love and serve others--there's nothing like it.

And that's why my life is so blessed. And that's why, you know, that last chapter is all about gratitude.  

Yes. I love that chapter.

Put it this way: The aristocrat of the attitude is gratitude. There's nothing like it. If you have enough gratitude in your soul, it doesn't leave much room for your ego to operate. It's hard to be egoistic when you're praising somebody else.

Three seminal texts you've written are The American Evasion of Philosophy: A Genealogy of Pragmatism, Race Matters, and Democracy Matters: Winning the Fight Against Imperialism. Tying all three together, how is Philosophy connected to the ways in which our society considers Race and carries out its political will--for good or bad?

Well, I think Philosophy--Phi-lo-so-phy--itself ought to lead one into a promotion of love and justice. And when you talk about Race, you're talking about the ways in which Black people have tried to fight for fairness and justice in the face of White Supremacy.

And so, for me, Philosophy--the love of wisdom--embraces any attempt to transform the world from an unjust system to a just one.

And coming from a Blues People--philosophy goes to school with both poetry and music, because the music itself is also a quest for wisdom, the music itself is also a form of resisting injustice, the music itself is a way of affirming our humanity and enabling us to straighten our backs and step forward and mobilize.

On the topic of music, you've released three Hip-Hop/Spoken Word albums (Sketches of My Culture, Street Knowledge, and Never Forget: A Journey of Revelations). What is curious, though, is that you're actually a pioneer in the field of Hip-Hop studies. As far back as 1982, when many scholars your age and status were convinced Hip-Hop wasn't an art-form, you were arguing for legitimacy and support from the older generation, making the connections between this emerging phenomenon and other great works of Afro-American art that had come before, and gave birth to, it. What did you see so far back as 1982 that some of your peers lacked the insight and foresight to see?

Well, that's a good question. I mean, part of it is just loving young folk, loving young Black brothers and sisters, and always [being] concerned about how they're expressing themselves, always trying to learn from them, getting into their world, and trying to see what they're thinking, how they're feeling, and how they're going about redefining reality.  

As much as I love Curtis Mayfield, Al Green, and Aretha Franklin, that's my generation. And the Hip-Hop generation built on [that tradition]; but it is very different from Curtis, Smokey [Robinson], Stevie [Wonder], and the others.

So, in that sense, it was just a matter of the love spilling over. That's what I was trying to tell Larry Summers. [He's saying], You won't have nothing to do with Hip-Hop! [And I'm saying], Oh, no. You won't stand in the way of my love for young brothers and sisters, because Harvard is subordinate to my love for [them] any day of the year.

I'm not anti-Harvard, but I just don't let anything stand in the way of my love for the folk. And so, [in 1982], when I was American correspondent for Le Monde diplomatique, I really wanted the world to know that another wave of Black artistic genius and Black artistic talent was taking a new form. And Hip-Hop was that new form.

And I wanted the young folk to know that they are part of a tradition and continuum, because Black folk have been speaking, and teaching, and preaching, and engaging in linguistic virtuosity on street corners for a long time. They [Hip-Hop pioneers] weren't the first ones, but they were finding their voices in a new way--with the sampling, the technology, and so forth.

And so, I wrote those early essays; but, of course, by the time a genius like Michael Eric Dyson hit it, he took it to a whole new level. And now, thank God we've got Tricia Rose and the other folk who've created a whole Hip-Hop studies; and they're far deeper and far more sophisticated than I am.

[To Read Part 2, Click Here]