Racism springs from closed-mindedness, 'us and them' mentality

I've been thinking a lot about beauty. Also racism.

You see, I purchased a new oboe. My old instrument, which I bought used in 1979, is showing signs of mechanical failure. A new one will probably last the rest of my life.

So I got an importer to send two of the best for me to try. One was made by Mr. Loree's little family business, and the other by Mr. Rigoutat's. Although I have played a Loree for decades, I sought a second benchmark.

Alas, it seemed there was no contest. The new Loree played like my old Loree, only better: dark, sonorous, rich with the promise of sensual delights. It reminded me why they always use oboes in the score of soap operas when somebody's about to commit adultery.

By comparison the Rigoutat sounded, well, prudish.

I phoned my importer friend.

"Playing a Loree," she said, "is like meeting a beautiful woman and falling in love at first sight. Will her looks last?"

"Playing a Rigoutat is like meeting a nice girl from your hometown. She's a little plain-but you end up marrying her."

But prejudice is subtle, and it comes down to fear-fear fueled by ignorance. Racism represents the failure of community-the failure of economic, political and social systems to ratify our common goals and our common weakness. Let me say it: We are all racists. Nobody's innocent. We all walk, at least sometimes, with fear and ignorance at our side.

One could blame the systems themselves, and if blaming gets you anywhere, you could blame persons in power who guide and lead the institutions upon which those systems depend: political leaders, business tycoons, one's own boss. Somebody's got to pay; it's simpler and less painful than looking into oneself.

And then what? You destroy one career, one reputation-but the system remains, with its underlying assumption: us and them. And the people destroyed, even if they were guilty of nothing worse than unskillfulness in dealing with racial issues, learn a little more about how to hate. Bigots who fan the flames retire on both sides with a look of smug satisfaction. Everybody loses.

You need only look at Louis Farrakhan and Rush Limbaugh to understand that nobody sees the point. Everywhere you turn there are masters of propaganda. Us and them.

If there is any hope of changing the system from the inside, it has to start from inside your own heart. Admit your racism. Notice it, be mindful of it-and act against it, act in spite of it to heal and not to harm. Translate your beliefs into right action, even when those beliefs contradict your prejudices.

So I bought the Rigoutat. And Lusia, one of my Asian friends, promised to teach me to play a Chinese folk song on my new oboe. Having been raised on white European music, I haven't got a clue how the Chinese scale works-is it pentatonic? Does it use quarter-tones? I'm afraid I may not be up to it-but I'm going to try.

I'm no Pollyanna. Extending a hand, trying to preserve what little decency, respect and love we have, shoring up our fragile community may not be enough to reform one single cog in the juggernaut of racial hatred. In fact, I have hesitated to write this because I too am motivated by fear. I fear that my words will sound too genteel, too naive, too little. I fear being misunderstood. Sometimes I feel the huge tide of darkness in human relations sweeping over this University, and over my city, and over my country, and it scares me. Us and them.

But I've been thinking a lot about racism. Also beauty.

Paul Baerman, Fuqua '90, is a Durham resident.