The Tiger and the Pussycat

"There is in James Baldwin's work the most grueling, agonizing, total hatred of blacks, particularly of himself, and the most shameful, fanatical, fawning, sycophantic love of whites that one can find in the writings of any black American writer of note in our time." --Eldridge Cleaver from Soul On Ice

FOR BETTER OR WORSE, the thousands that thronged the Yard two weeks ago to hear the Rev. Jesse L. Jackson speak proved that he has taken over the helm of the Black civil rights movement, a movement that was left captainless by the assassination of the late sixties. But what has happened to those of the old guard who were fortunate enough to survive the turbulence that claimed Martin Luthur King and Malcolm X? How have the two decades since those slayings changed their views and method? And what can Jackson-and anyone else seriously interested in the Black movement-learn from the "founding fathers" of modern Black activism?

Two of the most famous and certainly the two most adroit writers of the sixties' movement, Eldridge Cleaver and James Baldwin, have aged in remarkably different ways. Cleaver, a former Black Panther, is now a strict conservative who bitterly renounces any kind of struggle against the establishment. Baldwin, however, continues to support the spirit of the civil rights movement from his self-improved exile in France Whereas Baldwin was attacked by some, most notably Cleaver, for his emphasis on education over activism during the 1960s, now it is Cleaver whose commitment to black equality appears tepid. And while their relative militancy has been reversed, the ideological distance between the two Black writers remains extensive.

To understand why these two great writers so far apart today, it helps to look at the difference in their attitudes back in the sixties. Cleaver's own radicalism seems to have burned him out and left him to fall into the secure lap of his arch-enemy, the right wing. Cleaver was always an activist first and academian second. Back then, he characterized himself as "a full time revolutionary in the struggle for black liberation in America." His posts as chairman of the Black House Council and Minister Of Information for the Panthers continually placed him on the FBI's list of "potentially dangerous individuals." In this spirit, Soul On Ice reads much like The Communist Manifesto or The Declaration Of Independence. It is an Afro-American call-to-arms.

Cleaver's objections to Baldwin, then, stem primarily from the fact that Baldwin, like Malcolm X just before his death, believed that the Black movement should concentrate on educating all races, especially young people, about suffering of Blacks and the injustices brought upon them. This focus was a direct repudiation of the factics of action groups like the Panthers that tried to overthrow society. The Fire Next Time, unlike Soul On Ice, is not concerned with history or politics but rather with how it feels to be an outsider, to be Black in a white world. Baldwin believed you can't force society to change, that you have to change attitudes before you can change behavior. For this commitment to interracial brotherhood. Baldwin won Cleaver's decision and the label of "Pussycat" to Cleaver's self-proclaimed "Tiger."

But now the tiger has grown tired and has decided to struggle up in front of the white man's fire. Cleaver currently writes for stodgy publications like Buckley's The National Review. He roundly criticized Jesse Jackson's Presidential campaign, calling him a "ruthless politician on the make." Last year, he ran as a conservative independent in a race for the House of the Representatives in the eight district of California, hoping to split than Black vote with the incumbent Democrat. Ronald Dellums, and allow the Republican challenger to sneak in the back door. Along with the rest of his former opinions on which he has reneged. Cleaver has dropped the Muslim faith and become a born-again Christian. At times, he even sounds like Jerry Falwell: he resorted the old right-wing trick of labelling Dellums a "communist" in his thankfully unsuccessful campaign. Apparently the strain and danger of being a Black radical, a position which cost many their lives, have taken their toll on Cleaver, he now wants the security of God, family, and country, of being a sycophant for those who want in keep the status quo.

IF EVEN the more militant Cleaver has abandoned many of his former tenets, what has become of Baldwin? Simply nothing. In contrast to his contemporary, Baldwin has not budged from his basic convictions. In last April's issue of Essence, he wrote: "The multitudinous bulk of [whites] sit, stunned, before their TV sets swallowing garbage that they know to be tormented by the suspicion that all men are brothers."

Baldwin was able to take the strain of being a Black writer in a white world precisely because he was not a tiger. He never expected a revolutoin. He knew that no amount of marching in the street or breaking storefront windows was going to complete the process of equal rights. He did not flee America out if some fawning, unconscious love for white European, as Cleaver claimed, but rather because he knew change was not going to come quickly and he didn't want to be destroyed by the disappointment that inevitably followed the hope of the sixties.

As a result, Baldwin was not dismayed by his sense of isolation to the extent that Cleaver was- a dismay which has led to the latter's capitalization. Though he is thousands of miles away, Baldwin still remains in touch with the concerns of Blacks in this country: he has written a book about the Atlanta child murders, tentatively titled Evidence Of Things Not Seen, ready for publication before the end of this year. Surely, even the Cleaver of 1968 would have to be impressed with Baldwin's two decades of loyalty to the cause of Black civil rights.

Nor is this commitment something that Baldwin tosses off to make a living Baldwin's work bespeaks a conviction that goes beyond even Cleaver's words, as brilliant is those are. Indeed, Cleaver's writings now seem invalid, not because the sentiments expressed in Soul On Ice have become irrelevant, but because the author has not lived up to his work. Today's Black leaders especially Jesse Jackson can learn a lot from Baldwin's constant level-heads devotion to the Black interest. the Pussycat that roared.

Cleaver's objections to Baldwin, then, stem primarily from the fact that Baldwin, like Malcolm X just before his death, believed that the Black movement should concentrate on educating all races, especially young people, about suffering of Blacks and the injustices brought upon them. This focus was a direct repudiation of the factics of action groups like the Panthers that tried to overthrow society. The Fire Next Time, unlike Soul On Ice, is not concerned with history or politics but rather with how it feels to be an outsider, to be Black in a white world. Baldwin believed you can't force society to change, that you have to change attitudes before you can change behavior. For this commitment to interracial brotherhood. Baldwin won Cleaver's decision and the label of "Pussycat" to Cleaver's self-proclaimed "Tiger."

But now the tiger has grown tired and has decided to struggle up in front of the white man's fire. Cleaver currently writes for stodgy publications like Buckley's The National Review. He roundly criticized Jesse Jackson's Presidential campaign, calling him a "ruthless politician on the make." Last year, he ran as a conservative independent in a race for the House of the Representatives in the eight district of California, hoping to split than Black vote with the incumbent Democrat. Ronald Dellums, and allow the Republican challenger to sneak in the back door. Along with the rest of his former opinions on which he has reneged. Cleaver has dropped the Muslim faith and become a born-again Christian. At times, he even sounds like Jerry Falwell: he resorted the old right-wing trick of labelling Dellums a "communist" in his thankfully unsuccessful campaign. Apparently the strain and danger of being a Black radical, a position which cost many their lives, have taken their toll on Cleaver, he now wants the security of God, family, and country, of being a sycophant for those who want in keep the status quo.

IF EVEN the more militant Cleaver has abandoned many of his former tenets, what has become of Baldwin? Simply nothing. In contrast to his contemporary, Baldwin has not budged from his basic convictions. In last April's issue of Essence, he wrote: "The multitudinous bulk of [whites] sit, stunned, before their TV sets swallowing garbage that they know to be tormented by the suspicion that all men are brothers."

Baldwin was able to take the strain of being a Black writer in a white world precisely because he was not a tiger. He never expected a revolutoin. He knew that no amount of marching in the street or breaking storefront windows was going to complete the process of equal rights. He did not flee America out if some fawning, unconscious love for white European, as Cleaver claimed, but rather because he knew change was not going to come quickly and he didn't want to be destroyed by the disappointment that inevitably followed the hope of the sixties.

As a result, Baldwin was not dismayed by his sense of isolation to the extent that Cleaver was- a dismay which has led to the latter's capitalization. Though he is thousands of miles away, Baldwin still remains in touch with the concerns of Blacks in this country: he has written a book about the Atlanta child murders, tentatively titled Evidence Of Things Not Seen, ready for publication before the end of this year. Surely, even the Cleaver of 1968 would have to be impressed with Baldwin's two decades of loyalty to the cause of Black civil rights.

Nor is this commitment something that Baldwin tosses off to make a living Baldwin's work bespeaks a conviction that goes beyond even Cleaver's words, as brilliant is those are. Indeed, Cleaver's writings now seem invalid, not because the sentiments expressed in Soul On Ice have become irrelevant, but because the author has not lived up to his work. Today's Black leaders especially Jesse Jackson can learn a lot from Baldwin's constant level-heads devotion to the Black interest. the Pussycat that roared.