wash its hands of the matter. Men
who knew that slavery was wrong
were forced, nevertheless, to fight
to perpetuate it because they were
unable to turn against "blood and
kin and home." And when blood
and kin and home were defeated,
they found themselves, more than
ever, committed: committed, in
effect, to a way of life which was
as unjust and crippling as it was
inescapable.
In
sum, the North, by
freeing the slaves of their masters,
robbed the masters of any possi–
bility of freeing themselves of the
slaves.
When Faulkner speaks, then, of
the "middle of the road," he is
simply speaking of the hope–
which was always unrealistic and
is now all but smashed-that the
white Southerner, with no coercion
from the rest of the nation, will
lift himself above his ancient, crip–
pling bitterness and refuse to add
to his already intolerable burden
of blood-guiltiness. But this hope
would seem to be absolutely de–
pendent on a social and psycho–
logical stasis which simply does not
exist. "Things have been getting
better," Faulkner tells us, "for a
long time. Only six Negroes were
killed by whites in Mississippi last
year, according to police figures."
Faulkner surely knows how little
consolation this offers a Negro and
he also knows something about
"police figures" in the Deep South.
573
And he knows, too, that murder
is not the worst thing that can hap–
pen to a man, black or white. But
murder may be the worst thing a
man can do. Faulkner is not try–
ing to save Negroes, who are, in
his view, already saved; who, hav–
ing refused to be destroyed by ter–
ror, are far stronger than the ter–
rified white populace; and who
have, moreover, fatally, from his
point of view, the weight of the
Federal government behind them.
He is trying to save "whatever
good remains in those white
people." The time he pleads for
is the time in which the Southern–
er will come to terms with himself,
will cease fleeing from his con–
science, and achieve, in the words
of Robert Penn Warren, "moral
identity." And he surely believes,
with Warren, that "Then in a
country where moral identity is
hard to come by, the South, be–
cause it has had to deal concretely
with a moral problem, may offer
some leadership. And we need any
we can get.
If
we are to break out
of the national rhythm, the rhythm
between complacency and panic."
But the time Faulkner asks for
does not exist-and he is not the
only Southerner who knows it.
There is never time in the future
in which we will work out our sal–
vation. The challenge is in the mo–
ment, the time is always now.
James Baldwin
