Moral Fatigue and White Fatigue

 . (Play music while reading)

Moral fatigue occurs when you run up against the limits of your endurance for moral concerns. It's something like psychological and emotional burnout from moral engagement, the onset of tiredness from constant concern over moral issues, the spent psychological energy of moral growth and change. Many years ago, some of my housemates and I became convinced for philosophical reasons that we needed to change our eating habits. Factory farm meat, in particular, was morally concerning. So we became vegetarians. We jumped into a new dietary life. But we weren't prepared for it on a psychological and practical level. We weren't learning from others who had taken a similar journey. We didn't know how to cook good tofu dishes (or any plant-based protein for that matter).  Things didn't taste the same. Our meals weren't as satisfying. While our moral convictions were strong enough to propel us into a new way of eating, we lacked the endurance and wisdom to sustain it. Moral fatigue set in. So we compromised (a common effect of moral fatigue), and eventually we slid back into old patterns of consumption. I'm ashamed to say that I was even motivated to search for new arguments and justifications for my previous way of eating (a vicious form of post hoc rationalization). 

If we, white people, are not careful, a similar thing could happen when it comes to race issues. We may grow tired of having these conversations, weary of hearing about it on the news, at church, or on social media, beleaguered by having to think about our own privilege, exhausted by the dark history of racism in American, desirous of narratives that have some capacity to uplift and not just expose, and so on. In our hearts, if not out loud, we might wonder: "Do I really have to hear another sermon about racial reconciliation?" "Do I really need to read another book about white privilege and race issues?" "Are we really talking about this again?" "How many more protests do we need?" "Don't we need more balance?" "Can't I chill out on this for a while?" Just as bad, in order to relieve the burden of engagement, we may be tempted (perhaps without even realizing it) to search for reasons that rationalize diminished engagement. 

While black Americans experience the unique fatigue of living through racial injustice, those of us who are white are also prone to experience fatigue when it comes to racial injustice...but for other reasons (and let's be clear: these types of fatigue are not commensurate). One reason we are prone to fatigue and ease off is because racism doesn't touch our personal lives as much. Separated from the pain of racial injustice, we lack an important motivational impetus to persist.

I guess it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say 'wait.' - MLK, "Letter From Birmingham Jail

Likewise, it may be easy for those, like me, who have never experienced the stinging darts of racial injustice to ask, "can't we ease off?" On top of this, racial justice requires continued learning, and that's tiring. The invisible knapsack of privilege has many facets [1]. Unpacking all of this and learning what to do about it can be demanding. Lastly, I may be prone to experience moral fatigue in the area of racial justice because, possibly, few other causes to which I'm drawn have challenged my presumption of innocence, my conception of my country's history and justice, my grasp of what it means to love my neighbor, and my sense of competency in addressing the issue as much as this issue does. 

In so far as these reasons apply to me, I need to embrace this fact: the reasons that explain my feelings of burnout are not reasons that justify backing off. I haven't done too much with racial justice; I have done too little for too long and, as a result, I find myself lacking the stamina to stick with it. That's not a reason to back off; that's a reason to strategically persevere. Because the reality is:

Black lives continue to matter.

So, we can listen more, learn more, lament more, unite more, participate more, discuss more, humble ourselves more, and so on. We have to. Perhaps we need to pace ourselves better. Perhaps we need to strategically adjust our engagement in order to accommodate our current level of endurance (e.g., be more selective about how and with whom you have justice conversations). It's ok to jog rather than sprint, especially when there are many (many!) miles left to go. Allow your learning to be ongoing and incremental rather than immediate and heavy [2].  Think about what it would be like to journey at a more feasible pace. Take the journey in a group rather than alone (i.e., learn, lean in, and donate with your friends, family, a social group or church community). Glean insights from those who have been on this journey longer than you have. And remember: for many people of color, the is no exit option. Taking the journey is a matter of life and death, wellbeing and harm. Whatever you do, it is not ok to end the journey. And it is not ok to convey to others that the journey is wrapping up, that they should ease off too. 

The journey isn't wrapping up. 

We need to be strategic and persevering, not caving to moral fatigue in the area of racial justice. On the other end of strategic perseverance is endurance and, hopefully, greater proximity to justice and wholeness. Will you be in it for the long haul?

Footnotes:

[1] The "invisible knapsack" is a reference to Peggy McIntosh's seminal paper on white privilege, "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack."

[2] Having said that, many of us probably need to bracket our ordinary projects and pursuits somewhat in order to heavily focus on racial justice issues. My point is that, if you're starting to feel moral fatigue in this area, adjust your pace so that, at the very least, you stay in it.