Obama Explains Benefit of Racial Hatred of Whites

Obama Justifies Black Racism

In this excerpt below from his book “Dreams from my Father” (page 196 of the paperback edition) Obama explains how racial hatred and scapegoating of whites can provide a beneficial effect for blacks. Such racism and scapegoating is used by black nationalist and Afrocentric groups, such as the Nation of Islam, the New Black Panther Party and his own church, Trinity United Church of Christ of Chicago. Obama is describing a time that was before he joined Jeremiah Wright’s Trinity church. So, it shows that Obama was well-aware of the racial hatred of such groups, before he even met Jeremiah Wright. His conclusion is that such racism may be a necessary evil to improve the condition of the black race.

The same kind of “therapy” also produced a great improvement in the self-esteem of many Germans in the 1930’s and 1940’s. It is a proven technique! Though Obama claims that he does not personally feel good about such racial hatred, one has to take into account that he has a political career to protect. He could hardly say outright that he approves of racism without harming his career. However, he did join Wright’s church, which has a black nationalist doctrine, based on racial hatred and extreme anti-Americanism. Actions speak louder than words.

Obama demonstrates his general familiarity with the racist doctrine of black nationalism by discussing the finer details of the racism contained in the autobiography of Malcolm X and quoting Marcus Garvey, the father of the modern black nationalist mass movement. One of Garvey’s famous quotes, which Obama uses is a call for the black race to rise, “Rise up ye mighty race!” From reading other parts of this book, it is very obvious that Obama understood quite well the basic racist tenets of Black Nationalism at least since he was a teenager in Hawaii. This is to be expected, because he is not unintelligent and was very interested in exploring his black identity. He was fascinated and preoccupied with all things having to do with black culture, including black nationalism. The entire book is about his search since childhood for racial identity.

The doctrine of Trinity Church is based on Black Liberation Theology, which is a more sophisticated, pseudo-Christian version of the black identity theology of the Nation of Islam. Black Liberation Theology was written by a black professor in a seminary, James H. Cone. It is somewhat less direct in its racism and seems designed to be more socially acceptable in order to spread the racist concepts and extreme anti-American bigotry of the Nation of Islam among black urban professionals and black churches.

The theology of the NOI is not orthodox Islam but is branch of a wider black identity cult movement, whose various branches present a facade as Judaism, Islamic or Christian. They are really none of these religions, but closely-related black sects, based on a common, similar Gnostic doctrine, which all hold the black race to be the chosen people or actually God and the white race to be the ultimate evil or the devil.

When an author wants to express a controversial view in a book, but not have it blamed on himself, sometimes he will use a third party to state what they want to say. Rafiq, in this excerpt that follows, has never been identified with a real person and some people think that he is just a literary construct by Obama, which allows him to discuss the racism of Black Nationalism, while attempting to maintain some personal distance for himself. Obama writes in his analysis below that he does not feel good about it, but that racism may be necessary to improve the condition of the black race. This is the wrong conclusion! — especially, for a president of the United States!

When the two of us were alone, though, Rafiq and I could sometimes have normal conversations. Over time I arrived at a grudging admiration for his tenacity and bravado, and, within his own terms, a certain sincerity He confirmed that he had been a gang leader growing up in Altgeld; he had found religion, he said, under the stewardship of a local Muslim leader unaffiliated with Minister Louis Farrakhan’s Nation of Islam. “If it hadn’t been for Islam, man, I’d probably be dead,” he told me one day. “Just had a negative attitude, you understand. Growing up in Altgeld, I’d soaked up all the poison the white man feeds us. See, the folks you’re working with got the same problem, even though they don’t realize it yet. They spend half they lives worrying about what white folks think. Start blaming themselves for the shit they see every day, thinking they can’t do no better till the white man decides they all right. But deep down they know that ain’t right. They know what this country has done to their momma, their daddy, their sister. So the truth is they hate white folks, but they can’t admit it to themselves. Keep it all bottled up, fighting themselves. Waste a lot of energy that way.

“I tell you one thing I admire about white folks,” he continued. “They know who they are. Look at the Italians. They didn’t care about the American flag and all that when they got here. First thing they did is put together the Mafia to make sure their interests were met. The Irish—they took over the city hall and found their boys jobs. The Jews, same thing . . .you telling me they care more about some black kid in the South Side than they do ’bout they relatives in Israel? Shit. It’s about blood, Barack, looking after your own. Period. Black people the only ones stupid enough to worry about their enemies.”

That was the truth as Rafiq saw it, and he didn’t waste energy picking that truth apart. His was a Hobbesian world where distrust was a given and loyalties extended from family to mosque to the black race — whereupon notions of loyalty ceased to apply. This narrowing vision, of blood and tribe, had provided him with a clarity of sorts, a means of focusing his attention. Black self-respect had delivered the mayor’s seat, he could argue, lust as black self-respect turned around the lives of drug addicts under the tutelage of the Muslims. Progress was within our grasp so long as we didn’t betray ourselves.

But what exactly constituted betrayal? Ever since the first time I’d picked up Malcolm X’s autobiography, I had tried to untangle the twin strands of black nationalism, arguing that nationalism’s affirming message-—of solidarity and self-reliance, discipline and communal responsibility—need not depend on hatred of whites any more than it depended on white munificence. We could tell this country where it was wrong, I would tell myself and any black friends who would listen, without ceasing to believe in its capacity for change.

In talking to self-professed nationalists like Rafiq, though, I came to see how the blanket indictment of everything white served a central function in their message of uplift; how, psychologically, at least, one depended on the other. For when the nationalist spoke of a reawakening of values as the only solution to black poverty, he was expressing an implicit, if not explicit, criticism to black listeners: that we did not have to live as we did. And while there were those who could take such an unadorned message and use it to hew out a new life for themselves—those with the stolid dispositions that Booker T Washington had once demanded from his followers—in the ears of many blacks such talk smacked of the explanations that whites had always offered for black poverty: that we continued to suffer from, if not genetic inferiority, then cultural weakness. It was a message that ignored causality or fault, a message outside history, without a script or plot that might insist on progression. For a people already stripped of their history, a people often ill-equipped to retrieve that history in any form other than what fluttered across the television screen, the testimony of what we saw every day seemed only to confirm our worst suspicions about ourselves.

Nationalism provided that history, an unambiguous morality tale that was easily communicated and easily grasped. A steady attack on the white race, the constant recitation of black people’s brutal experience in this country, served as the ballast that could prevent the ideas of personal and communal responsibility from tipping into an ocean of despair. Yes, the nationalist would say, whites are responsible for your sorry state, not any inherent flaws in you. In fact, whites are so heartless and devious that we can no longer expect anything from them. The self-loathing you feel, what keeps you drinking or thieving, is planted by them. Rid them from your mind and find your true power liberated. Rise up, ye mighty race!

This process of displacement, this means of engaging in self-criticism while removing ourselves from the object of criticism, helped explain the much-admired success of the Nation of Islam in turning around the lives of drug addicts and criminals. But if it was especially well suited to those at the bottom rungs of American life, it also spoke to all the continuing doubts of the lawyer who had run hard for the gold ring yet still experienced the awkward silence when walking into the clubhouse; those young college students who warily measured the distance between them and life on Chicago’s mean streets, with the danger that distance implied; all the black people who, it turned out, shared with me a voice that whispered inside them-“You don’t really belong here.”

In a sense, then, Rafiq was right when he insisted that, deep down, all blacks were potential nationalists. The anger was there, bottled up and often turned inward. And as I thought about Ruby and her blue eyes, the teenagers calling each other “nigger” and worse, I wondered whether, for now at least, Rafiq wasn’t also right in preferring that that anger be redirected; whether a black politics that suppressed rage toward whites generally, or one that failed to elevate race loyalty above all else, was a politics inadequate to the task.

It was a painful thought to consider, as painful now as it had been years ago. It contradicted the morality my mother had taught me, a morality of subtle distinctions between individuals of goodwill and those who wished me ill, between active malice and ignorance or indifference. I had a personal stake in that moral framework; I’d discovered that I couldn’t escape it if I tried. And yet perhaps it was a framework that blacks in this country could no longer afford; perhaps it weakened black resolve, encouraged confusion within the ranks.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and for many blacks, times were chronically desperate. If nationalism could create a strong and effective insularity, deliver on its promise of self-respect, then the hurt it might cause well-meaning whites, or the inner turmoil it caused people like me, would be of little consequence.

Obama Longs to Expunge his White Blood

Obama’s first biographical book, “Dreams from my Father,” reveals that he has a lot of issues with Americans and white people (collectively) that were in large part fostered in him by his mother and maternal grandparents, who were self-hating whites and self-hating Americans. At one point, Obama writes with resentment of white people, who allowed their dogs to relieve themselves on the grass in front of his apartment building. No one appreciates that behavior, of course, but Obama is still holding such a grudge against the white race twenty years later that he felt it necessary to include this in his book, because a couple of white people let their dogs crap on the grass in front of his apartment building!

He also notes elsewhere that his mother declared to his Indonesian step-father that Americans are “not my people.” “Dreams of my Father” was written before Obama thought he could be president and for that reason he shows a side of himself that he would not later divulge. Below is a passage in which he writes of Malcolm X’s desire to expunge his white blood and Obama, comparing himself to Malcolm X, remarks wistfully that his white blood will always be with him, as well. Obama also muses that sometime in the future he may need to leave his white family members behind. The book is full of such remarks dealing with racial resentment. The entire theme of the book is about Obama’s neurotic hangups and preoccupation with racial issues.

… I had begun to see a new map of the world, one that was frightening in its simplicity, suffocating in its implications. We were always playing on the white man’s court, Ray had told me, by the white man’s rules. If the principal, or the coach, or a teacher, or Kurt, wanted to spit in your face, he could, because he had power and you didn’t. If he decided not to, if he treated you like a man or came to your defense, it was because he knew that the words you spoke, the clothes you wore, the books you read, your ambitions and desires, were already his. Whatever he decided to do, it was his decision to make, not yours, and because of that fundamental power he held over you, because it preceded and would out-last his individual motives and inclinations, any distinction between good and bad whites held negligible meaning. In fact, you couldn’t even be sure that everything you had assumed to be an expression of your black, unfettered self—the humor, the song, the behind-the-back pass—had been freely chosen by you. At best, these things were a refuge; at worst, a trap. Following this maddening logic, the only thing you could choose as your own was withdrawal into a smaller and smaller coil of rage, until being black meant only the knowledge of your own powerlessness, of your own defeat. And the final irony: Should you refuse this defeat and lash out at your captors, they would have a name for that, too, a name that could cage you just as good. Paranoid. Militant. Violent. Nigger.

Over the next few months, I looked to corroborate this nightmare Vision. I gathered up books from the library——Baldwin, Ellison, Hughes, Wright, DuBois. At night I would close the door to my room, telling my grandparents I had homework to do, and there I would sit and wrestle with words, locked in suddenly desperate argument, trying to reconcile the world as I’d found it with the terms of my birth. But there was no escape to be had. In every page of every book, in Bigger Thomas and invisible men, I kept finding the same anguish, the same doubt; a self-contempt that neither irony nor intellect seemed able to deflect. Even DuBois’s learning and Baldwin’s love and Langston’s humor eventually succumbed to its corrosive force, each man finally forced to doubt art’s redemptive power, each man finally forced to withdraw, one to Africa, one to Europe, one deeper into the bowels of Harlem, but all of them in the same weary flight, all of them exhausted, bitter men, the devil at their heels. (Here Obama uses a play on a standard Black Nationalist term for whitey, the “devil.”)

Only Malcolm X’s autobiography seemed to offer something different. His repeated acts of self—creation spoke to me, the blunt poetry of his words, his unadorned insistence on respect, promised a new and uncompromising order, martial in its discipline, forged through sheer force of will. All the other stuff, the talk of blue-eyed devils and apocalypse, was incidental to that program, I decided, religious baggage that Malcolm himself seemed to have safely abandoned toward the end of his life. And yet, even as I imagined myself following Malcolm’s call, one line in the book stayed me. He spoke of a wish he’d once had, the wish that the white blood that ran through him, there by an act of violence, might somehow be expunged. I knew that, for Malcolm, that wish would never be incidental. I knew as well that traveling down the road to self—respect my own white blood would never recede into mere abstraction. I was left to wonder what else I would be severing if and when I left my mother and my grandparents at some uncharted border.

And, too: If Malcolm’s discovery toward the end of his life, that some whites might live beside him as brothers in Islam, seemed to offer some hope of eventual reconciliation, that hope appeared in a distant future, in a far-off land. In the meantime, I looked to see where the people would come from who were willing to work toward this future and populate this new world.

Note: The Black Liberation doctrine of Obama’s church teaches that reconciliation means submission to the will of the black man and Malcolm X had the same concept. That is, the current system is evil and reconciliation means that you have to submit to his conditions, such as become a Muslim. This kind of “reconciliation” is still very much a racist concept.

Is Obama Muslim?

Elijah Muhammad, Prophet of the Nation of Islam, taught that blacks are born muslims. Cosmic symbols on his fez signify that the black man is the master of the universe.
Obama might be termed an ethnic Muslim or cultural Muslim, because he embraces his father’s family with is a traditionally Muslim family. His documented religion is, however, the Black Liberation Theology of Jeremiah Wright’s Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago.

The doctrine of the so-called church where Obama was a member for 20 years is not Christianity, but has a kind of Gnostic doctrine and was inspired by the Nation of Islam. The Nation of Islam is not orthodox Islam either, but also has a Gnostic, black cult doctrine. The NOI was started by a group of not very educated men and the head, Elijah Muhammad, used to fret that they needed professional types to build a “black nation.”

Black Liberation Theology can be seen as a pseudo-Christian version of the Nation of Islam. It has a doctrine written by a professor that appeals more to black urban professionals, like Obama, and has also been useful for spreading the concepts of the NOI into black churches and the general, black population.

Elijah Muhammad taught that his version of Islam is not a religion, but that blacks are naturally born Muslims. They have a Nazi-like concept that all culture and knowledge come from the black man, the “original people.” The sects that are based on the Elijah Muhammad’s Black Nationalism borrow a lot of concepts from his writings, which are considered to be scripture by his followers. Obama may feel that he is, at root, a Muslim, in the sense of Elijah Muhammad.

Obama campaign poster with radiant halo, similar to that used in images of Elijah Muhammad.
Obama is certainly very sympathetic to Islam, due to his family background and the connection of his Gnostic pseudo-church to the Nation of Islam cult. Black Liberation Theology is compatible with Islam in its ethics, justifying whatever is necessary to destroy the white man and to bring down America. He is also anxious to cooperate with Muslims to achieve his anti-American agenda. The doctrine of his pseudo-church is worse than that of Islam in any case, calling more specifically for the destruction of America and white society by any means necessary. People should take the time to read the foundation books on Black Liberation Theology by James H. Cone, available from Amazon. They are short, inexpensive books that give you a much better idea of the religious nature of Obama’s agenda against America, whites and the orthodox Christian church. It holds that all three must be destroyed in order to bring on the millennial utopia or kingdom of God on Earth, which in their doctrine will be a physical theocracy led by a black messiah. The doctrine teaches that the black messiah will be an ordinary man who exalts himself to that god-like status, by struggle against white society. Because they are self-exalted, more than one messiah is possible at the same time.

Louis Farrakhan, the current head of the Nation of Islam, who was a disciple of Elijah Muhammad, implied during the campaign (Feb., 2008) at his “Saviors’ Day Conference” that Obama is a black messiah. Note that “Saviors’ ” is plural on Farrakhan’s podium in the clip below. The black vote shifted from Hillary to Obama at about that time, just as Michelle Obama had predicted about three months earlier in an interview on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” program.

Louis Farrakhan Hails Obama As The Black Messiah