Malcolm X: Courage and Violent Death

My man's gone now Ain't no use a-listenin' For his tired foot-steps Climbin' up the stairs. Porgy and Bess

No doubt here are those who are glad that Malcolm X is dead, though in prayers and in conversation with Negroes they will say, "Each man's death diminishes my own." I have never known what that phrase means. At any rate, Malcolm's death cannot be understood by this peculiar subtraction, but only through an acquaintance with the violence and the tragedy in Negro life, the reluctant role he accepted and the lashing emotion which his murder evokes in some Negroes.

Malcolm's death will be debated in political terms for some time, but most Negroes must sing the blues, at least for a while. In the melee his wife, Betty, is said to have screamed, "They're killing my husband." And now she must mourn and hate.

Father Murdered

More tragically, Malcolm's four children had to relive the moment when, as a boy, their father's interest in race began: for Malcolm's own father was also murdered. Both Malcolm and his father died prematurely because they were Negroes, because that fact evoked--perhaps against their will--hatred in them and in others. Malcolm's father was killed by whites while a member of the African movement of Marcus Garvey. Malcolm died an ex-Black Muslim and a leader of the Organization of Afro-American unity; ironically, he was killed by Negroes.

Yet, because Malcolm was frank to both whites and Negroes, the blues sung in the ghettoes tonight and for some time to come will be sung for us all. They will be sung for whites, because they must inevitably face the demands, style of life, and vengeance of the silent, "mean" Negroes who have been ignored or dismissed even by the middle-class of their own race. But the blues will be sung by Negroes because they recognize that Malcolm was murdered because he violated a code.

This code, as expressed in the Black Muslim movement, provides the framework for a Negro conservatism, based on ostensibly radical principles, which Malcolm--despite his talk of white devils and black nationalism--clearly challenged.

But the code extends beyond Black Muslims--deep into the Negro community. It is a set of rules which designates the political and religious leaders of the community and defines the loyalty and respect which individuals owe to these leaders. The "code" allows Adam Clayton Powell (D.N.Y.) and William Dawson (D-III.) to be re-elected year after year and keeps Negro ministers in their pulpits until they are carried to the funeral parlor.

Intertwined in this code is a curious adherence to a chivalric code of honor. To be sure, lower class Negroes seldom speak of these standards; but when formal relations break down, they often exact irrational retribution for small offenses against these norms. Thus, two men drew knives when one accused the other of owing him a nickel. Neither backed down.

Amidst a terrible silence on a Saturday night they fought a duel without rules, until both were badly injured. Clearly the value of a nickel was not at stake, but rather honor and pride. To these men, to fight was the expected and manly solution.

No doubt Malcolm X knew the code and the violence which accompanied it, and yet by breaking with the Muslims, he dissented. In the context of black nationalism, he become a "revisionist," a reformer. He once said, "No one can get out without trouble and this thing with me will be resolved by death and violence." At the same time, Malcolm, perhaps unwittingly, introduced a new politics into black nationalism, based on dissent; a politics which also sought alliances with middle class civil rights groups.

Tragic Cycle

Now it doesn't matter whether he was killed by the Ku Klux Klan or the Black Muslims: retribution was exacted. As a result of the violence, the sons and daughters of the victim and murderers are being initiated into manhood too early and will quickly become heirs to the violence of Negroes and whites which racism has forced upon us and which finally brought an end to Malcolm X. By dissenting, Malcolm was trying to end the tragic cycle.

When he came to Harvard last December to speak at the law School Forum, he had no guards. We whispered across a short space in the Faculty Club about his new ideas and his trip to Mecca. "I fee like a man who has been asleep somewhat and under someone eles's control," he said. "I feel what I'm thinking and saying now is for myself." And yet, I sensed about him the loneliness of one who had tried to go beyond his circumstances and had found he could not.

Malcolm leaned forward, looking past me at the dead ashes in the fireplace, by his silence forcing me to look at him. "Don't sit near me tonight. You may get hurt," he said simply. He turned to deal with a telephone message. Someone had called to day they would pick him up. He asked who had called and, apparently discovering that an expected password had not been given, informed the jovial group with us with a smile that the caller was not the right person.

That night he spoke of brotherhood and his willingness to help civil rights leaders as he later tried to help Martin King in Selma. And yet at the Law School Forum he questioned whether a "certain Negro leader" should receive a peace prize when there was no peace.

Gradually Malcolm became caught up in the rhetoric of black nationalism. He wanted to duel and white students obliged.

"You hate whites, don't you, Malcolm?"

"What does the 'X' stand for?"

Malcolm fought back. "I hate whites... Yes!"

One expected him to say yes to everything. The occasion required a vigorous black knight. Many questioners egged him on to rhetoric about white devils; few asked about his program of political action. Most wanted to know about the doctrine of self-defense. Still others asked why he said, "chickens come home to roost" in reference to President Kennedy's assassination. He was a "dancing bear." The audience wanted him to perform--and the code forced him to duel.

As with most tragic heroes, Malcolm's death was partially rooted in his character, but his life went beyond personal flaws and was even greater because he accepted his own flaws and the dangers which surrounded him. Malcolm's courage was real. Although trapped by his past, he attempted to play a new role of dissent and a halting flexibility. Perhaps these will become his legacy towards a new code and politics for Negroes