Key to understanding The Psychosis of Whiteness is recognising the illusion of racial progress that separates Then from Now, according to Kehinde Andrews, professor of black studies at Birmingham City University. The reader of his latest book, who might already be confused by Andrews’s contradictory opening statements about psychosis – describing it as both a potential consequence of internalised racism and a “political construct” weaponised by the white tradition of psychiatry – is likely to feel a little disoriented by the vagueness of Then.
The academic leaps from the transatlantic slave trade to human chattel slavery in America; to the great migration and ensuing civil rights movement in the 1950s and 1960s; to the French colonial rule of Martinique, home to Afro-Caribbean political philosopher Franz Fanon; to apartheid in South Africa; and to Britain’s colonial exploitation of the now Commonwealth countries, including Jamaica, the birth country of Andrews’s father.
Among these various depictions of “black” history – all of which he appears to amalgamate into a single origin story – there is no denying the horrific impact of colonialism and slavery. But his account of “white supremacy” proves to be a rather weak adhesive for lumping together a hodgepodge of different historical times, places and peoples, each marked by its own unique social, political and economic context.
It is hard to resist the impression that the “house negroes” Andrews criticises are simply black men and women who either disagree with his conclusions or are swayed by different political persuasions
Andrews argues that most of what society has witnessed to date are surface-level changes, which have done little, if anything, to alleviate racial inequality. In fact, the situation has worsened, thanks to the preponderance of what he calls “modern-day house negroes” – inauthentic black people who “[want] to live near the master, to accept the scraps from the table and defend the racist system that keeps all Black people down”.
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It is hard to resist the impression that the “house negroes” whom Andrews criticises, including the former Labour politician Trevor Phillips (affectionately known to Andrews as “Trevor ‘formerly of the Black community’ Phillips”), are simply black men and women who either disagree with his conclusions or are swayed by different political persuasions. Andrews’s suggestion that they function solely as “tools to reinforce White supremacy” strips them of their independent and rational capacity to think for themselves.
According to Andrews, the downfall of the “house negro” lies in their deluded belief that money or prestige has the power to inoculate them from the deeply ingrained racism that no black person – under any conditions – can ever possibly escape. While Andrews is quick to satirise unconscious bias training, critical whiteness studies and anti-racist self-help materials for white audiences, I was disappointed to find that his criticisms were less about the proven ineffectiveness of such programmes and more about his tragic conviction that all white-black interactions – if they can ever truly be characterised as such – are destined to be forever marred by “white supremacy”.
The revolution he envisions focuses primarily on systemic change, leading to discussions at such an abstract level that concrete solutions are elusive. Whiteness, he asserts – in a manner that poorly differentiates this theoretical concept from white human beings – is fundamentally irrational and resistant to reform, education or rational discourse. While he effectively communicates some of the realities of institutional racism, he overlooks the fact that our systems are populated by feeling, thinking, breathing individuals.
He tends to downplay the struggles faced by other marginalised groups, including the Latino population of the US, Jews and poor white people
In the customary fashion of a binary oppressor/victim ideology, the academic tends to oversimplify the intricacies of human interactions and sociopolitical systems. This he does by frequently conflating cause and effect, by minimising the significance of other social differences including class, culture and ethnicity, and by drawing misleading false equivalencies, such as when he indirectly compares violent colonialism with a colleague touching a black person’s hair.
Most notably, he tends to downplay the struggles faced by other marginalised groups, including the Latino population of the US (who, due to their colonial ancestry and relative ease of assimilation, he claims, should be considered white), Jews (who in his view profit from being able to “switch in and out of Whiteness”) and poor white people (who, regardless of their level of adversity, he regards as universally privileged).
Following his recommendation to “avoid White institutions” entirely, an approach that appears only to perpetuate the very racial segregation he condemns as both “a cause and effect of the psychosis of Whiteness”, his powerful invitation to “confront the demons that haunt our society” ends up being strained by the contradictions of his arguments.
Andrews passionately conveys the deep reflections of a man who admits to being “mentally scarred from the constant assault” of racism. But the potential of his book to invoke meaningful, transformative change on the scale he envisions is hampered not only by the narrowness of his ideology but by the belligerence of his polemic.
