The Invisible Everything

Houston, we have a problem (and we don’t see it).

I love the movie Apollo 13. Every time I see the scene in which (Spoiler Alert!) the parachutes open above the command module to the understated “nasa-speak” of Tom Hanks saying, “Hello Houston, this is Odyssey: good to see you again,” I grow a little teary for this triumph over adversity and the profound group effort that made it happen.

I respect the accomplishments of the space program, accomplishments that may lead to a greater good for humankind, but also for their own sake, even as I understand (and in part agree with) those who think that the space program is wasteful or superfluous while we have so many troubles here on earth.

The space program is in many ways an apex of US accomplishment. It is also a specifically White accomplishment in two distinct ways. First, it is the outcome of the White value system and mindset: it is structurally White. Second, it is the product of the labors of White males to the near exclusion of all others: it is restrictively White.

Here are a few of the ways in which the space program is structurally White: it is highly scientific and technological in nature. Technology is not the sole providence of White US culture, but it is an important aspect of it. White culture has tended to work to wrest accomplishment from the grasp of the natural world with technology for leverage; to subdue nature rather than submit to it. One can also see reductionism, another aspect of White culture, at mission control where each specialist sits in front of his screen focusing on his area of expertise and adding to the whole. At the same time we see White individuality in the instances where each expert in his field can offer input that affects the decision of the group; or when the character Ken Mattingly pushes and pushes to find the right sequence to restart the command module; or, even more pointedly, in how the entire nation becomes swept up in its concern for these three astronauts. Even the form of the movie itself has a linear narrative thread that is very native to the White literary tradition.

It is restrictively White because it is the product of the White male exclusivity of the time in which the movie takes place. Apollo 13 Director Ron Howard has, I believe, captured this accurately. My own rather unscientific study was to watch the movie looking for non-White, non-males, looking at their roles in the story, and then to view footage from the actual mission. I found the race and gender make-ups of each similar. The movie has three Black people who have lines. All are males. To be fair, other identity groups are given short shrift as well. White women are represented as cast members in the movie, but there is not one woman with any kind of official authority represented. Beyond that, homosexuality is not even referred to in the movie and apart form Jim Lovell’s mother, who has had a stroke, all people we see are able-bodied. This is not an indictment against Ron Howard’s film direction: I believe that he captured the reality of the mindset of mainstream USA at the time.

At one point in the film Jim Lovell is asked by a reporter, “Why go back to the moon? We’ve been there already?” He responds, “Imagine if Christopher Columbus had come back from the New World and no one returned in his footsteps.” What could be more ironic? From a White perspective, it captures the sense of exploration, expansion, growth, and vision for the future that is central to the White legacy of its European roots. But imagine what would not have happened to the indigenous people that were in the Americas before Columbus if no one had followed in his footsteps. I imagine Jim Lovell’s question has a very different meaning to them.

The Whiteness of Apollo 13 highlights the dilemma of many Whites who see racial inequity and want to work for a fairer society: how can we feel good about being White when our greatest accomplishments are tainted by exclusion and exploitation? It often seems like we have the choice of two opposites. Either we can feel “White Pride,” a concept that has been co-opted by groups who feel that White dominance is a good thing, or we feel “White Shame,” and reject Whiteness as being only a means of oppression. Either way, we cannot be White and working towards a healthy, fair racial identity. Many people in the White anti-racist world reject White culture out of hand because of its ingrained inequity and exploitation. Frankly, they continue to do very good work in my opinion. I respect it because its focus is on fairness for others rather than on Whites protecting themselves. It is other-centered rather than self-centered.

But while the rejection of all things White is morally preferable to White supremacy, it may not be the best of all worlds. I don’t know an answer to this dilemma that works for everyone but I can speak for myself. I try my best to keep a “both/and” mindset. I try to respect my own perspective, a decidedly White perspective, while not insisting that it hold primacy. I try to be honest about what I like and dislike about other perspectives while still making room for them in the discourse, especially when they are the perspectives of people from non-dominant groups. As a White male I owe them my ear. I treat Whiteness like a beloved brother who is a drug addict; I love the good in him but will intervene to stop his destructive impulses from harming others. I try to love Whiteness while not allowing it to do the bad things it does.

Just like all people, I remain a cultural being. I don’t insist, however, that my culture dominate. In fact I insist that it does not. What should I call this perspective? Perhaps, White Dignity.