Towards a Revolutionary Psychoanalysis

Ron Jacobs

 July 10, 2026

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Cover art for the book From the Clinic to the Streets: Psychoanalysis for Revolutionary Futures by Lara Sheehi

Psyops are part and parcel of warfare, especially in modern times. Familiarly called winning hearts and minds during Washington’s war on the Vietnamese, one can argue that the incorporation of modern psychology into what might be termed propaganda exercises enhanced those “exercises”. Whether or not bringing psychological insights into the combat for the hearts and minds of non-combatants made war propaganda more effective is up for debate. However, its use in convincing the people back home—the ones paying for the war with their money and their children—seems to have been very effective. The evidence for this statement lies in the support wars tend to get by those governments waging them; a support that waxes and wanes often according to how the killing is presented.

That being said, there is another possible use of psychology that rejects the underlying goal of mainstream practice, that is, to get people to adjust to the structure of control and repression the state and its system of servitude demands. This alternative use of psychology is one that encourages liberation, in fact sets liberation as its goal. In a manner similar to the understanding championed by R.D. Laing and other rebel psychiatrists and psychologists that, generally speaking, insanity is a reasonable response to an insane society, a psychology that suggests a revolutionary struggle is an appropriate response to the current structure of capitalism, militarism and empire.

It is this concept of a liberation psychology that informs a new book by clinical psychologist and host of the Psychic Militancy podcast Lara Sheehi. Titled From the Clinic to the Streets: Psychoanalysis for Revolutionary Futures, Sheehi states in her introduction that “the story begins with Frantz Fanon,” as all psychoanalysis should. This is not just an opinion, writes Sheehi, but a political necessity. If one considers the essence of Fanon’s writing about colonialism and the struggle against it—in history and in the present—it becomes clear that the work of psychologists should not be to get the patient to accept the status quo. Instead, it should be to change the status quo so that the patient (in both an individual and collective sense) can experience a more complete humanity found in fighting for one’s liberation.

Fanon argued that for the colonized, the deepest struggle is not land, but consciousness. While colonized people may regain territory, they often remain mentally subjugated long after liberation. Conversely, the liberation of the mind and the maintenance of an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist history can help keep the struggle for the territory alive; this is the case as regards the struggle for Palestinian liberation. The imperialist mindset must be rejected and replaced with a revolutionary one. This, writes Sheehi, is the role of a liberatory psychoanalytic practice and psychology itself.

Referring to the liberation struggles of oppressed peoples from Africa to San Quentin, Vietnam to Palestine, Sheehi writes that the oppressor operates by creating exhaustion, confusion, fear and despair. Their work involves the study of what she calls psychological intrusions which are manipulated by psyops agents in the government and the sycophantic media that conspires consciously and otherwise with it. We must understand these phenomena in order to prevent them from working on us; the liberatory psychoanalysis which she presents is part of this educational and ultimately liberatory process. Quoting Black Panther George Jackson in his book Blood in My Eye, she discusses Jackson’s concept of the oppressive contract—a scenario which leads the potential revolutionary among the oppressed in modern capitalist society to choose the life of the outlaw instead of the revolutionary. She quotes Jackson: “the commitment to total revolution must involve an analysis of both the economic and the psycho-social motives which perpetuate the oppressive contract.” (50) Without this understanding and a means to gain it, revolutionaries (organized or not) end up becoming outlaws. There’s probably no better illustration of the truth of Jackson’s statement in the United States than the individual histories of revolutionaries like Panther Huey Newton and Weather Underground member JJ (John Jacobs), both of whom died living mostly outside of the society they fought to change, one in a senseless gangland slaying and the other during a medical event in his exile as an itinerant worker and weed dealer in Vancouver, BC.

In my consideration of psychology and its practices I have usually been of the mind that its role is to make people adjust to the existing power structure dominated by capitalism and its manifestations. Frantz Fanon was the first to challenge that perception; author Sheehi’s text enhances the oppositional theories put forth by Fanon and, in doing so, remakes psychology itself. This is an important book. Its intention is even more so. Written with the anti-colonial resistance of the Palestinian people in the face of imperial/colonial genocide in our feeds every day—a struggle considered by many to be the most important liberation struggle since that of the Vietnamese—the author Sheehi has issued a clearly written, clearly revolutionary and quite timely demand to people around the world opposed to US imperialism and its subsidiaries that they move forward in their resistance. Furthermore, the reader is encouraged to practice the revolutionary love espoused by Che so it becomes the standard by which we fight to save our planet from those who are destroying it.

Ron Jacobs is the author of several books, including Daydream Sunset: Sixties Counterculture in the Seventies published by CounterPunch Books. His latest book, titled Reality, Resistance, Rock and Roll is a collection of book reviews written for Counterpunch over the years and is now available. He lives in Vermont. He can be reached at: ronj1955@gmail.com 

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Doing Academic Research In Morocco: Contexts, Cultures, And Knowledge Production – Analysis

Courtyard, Al-Qarawiyyin University, Fes. Morocco, the oldest in the world. Photo by Khonsali, Wikipedia Commons.

 April 24, 2026

By Dr. Mohamed Chtatou

Introduction

Conducting academic research in Morocco requires not only methodological rigor but also a critical engagement with the historical, cultural, and epistemological conditions that shape knowledge production. Positioned at the intersection of Africa, the Arab world, and the Mediterranean, Morocco presents a complex and multilayered research environment characterized by cultural plurality, linguistic diversity, and evolving socio-political dynamics. These features make Morocco an intellectually rich yet methodologically demanding field site, where the act of research is inseparable from broader questions of power, representation, and interpretation.

Historically, scholarly engagement with Morocco has been influenced by colonial and Orientalist frameworks that constructed the region as an object of knowledge to be studied, classified, and governed. As Edward Said (1978) argues, such representations were not neutral but deeply embedded in relations of power, shaping both the production and consumption of knowledge about non-Western societies. Although contemporary scholarship has sought to move beyond these paradigms, their legacy persists in subtle ways, influencing research agendas, methodologies, and epistemic hierarchies.

In this context, doing academic research in Morocco entails navigating a terrain marked by historical asymmetries and contemporary transformations. It requires an awareness of the ways in which knowledge is constructed, contested, and negotiated, as well as a commitment to reflexivity and ethical engagement. This essay examines the epistemological, methodological, and ethical dimensions of research in Morocco, arguing that knowledge production in this context is inherently relational and contingent. By drawing on insights from anthropology, sociology, and postcolonial studies, the essay highlights the importance of positionality, cultural competence, and dialogical engagement in conducting meaningful and responsible research.

Theoretical Framework: Knowledge, Power, and Epistemology

The relationship between knowledge and power is central to understanding the dynamics of academic research. As Michel Foucault (1980) demonstrates, knowledge is not merely a reflection of reality but a product of discursive practices that shape what can be known and how it can be known. In the context of Moroccan studies, this insight underscores the need to critically examine the epistemological foundations of research practices and to question the assumptions that underpin them.

Postcolonial theory provides a valuable framework for analyzing the historical construction of knowledge about Morocco. Edward Said (1978) highlights how Western scholarship has often represented the “Orient” as static, exotic, and inferior, thereby legitimizing colonial domination. These representations were not only descriptive but also prescriptive, influencing policy decisions and shaping the lived realities of colonized populations. In Morocco, colonial ethnography and administrative studies contributed to the categorization and control of local populations, often reducing complex social dynamics to simplistic binaries.

The critique of Orientalism has led to a growing emphasis on decolonizing research methodologies. Scholars such as Smith (1999) argue that research must be reoriented to prioritize indigenous perspectives and to challenge the dominance of Western epistemologies. This involves not only revising research questions and methods but also rethinking the ethics of knowledge production, including issues of ownership, representation, and accountability.

Reflexivity is a key component of this reorientation. As Pierre Bourdieu (1990) argues, researchers must critically examine their own positions within the social field, recognizing how their backgrounds, assumptions, and interests shape the research process. In Morocco, where cultural norms and social structures may differ significantly from those of the researcher, reflexivity becomes essential for avoiding ethnocentrism and for fostering more nuanced interpretations.

Anthropological approaches further emphasize the interpretive nature of social research. Clifford Geertz (1973) advocates for “thick description,” a method that seeks to understand social practices within their cultural contexts. In Morocco, this entails engaging with local categories of meaning and recognizing the symbolic dimensions of everyday life. Rather than imposing external frameworks, researchers must strive to interpret practices in ways that are meaningful to those who enact them.

Morocco as a Research Context: Historical Layers and Cultural Plurality

Morocco’s historical trajectory has profoundly shaped its contemporary social and cultural landscape. From pre-Islamic Amazigh societies to Arab-Islamic dynasties, from colonial rule to post-independence nation-building, the country’s history is marked by continuity and change. This historical layering is reflected in Morocco’s cultural plurality, which encompasses diverse identities, traditions, and practices.

The coexistence of Arab and Amazigh identities is a defining feature of Moroccan society. Amazigh (Berber) communities, with their distinct languages and cultural practices, have played a central role in shaping the country’s heritage. At the same time, Arabization and Islamization processes have contributed to the formation of a shared national identity. The recognition of Amazigh as an official language in recent years reflects ongoing efforts to acknowledge and integrate this diversity.

Morocco’s Jewish heritage also constitutes an important dimension of its cultural landscape. For centuries, Jewish communities contributed to the country’s economic, cultural, and intellectual life, fostering forms of convivencia that continue to resonate in contemporary memory (Boum, 2013). The study of Jewish-Muslim relations in Morocco provides valuable insights into the dynamics of coexistence, identity, and cultural exchange.

Linguistic diversity further complicates the research context. Moroccan Arabic (Darija), Amazigh languages, and French coexist in a dynamic and often hierarchical relationship. Language choice can signal social status, educational background, and cultural affiliation, influencing both access to participants and the interpretation of data. As Talal Asad (2003) notes, language is not merely a neutral medium but a constitutive element of social reality.

In addition to cultural and linguistic diversity, Morocco’s socio-political context presents both opportunities and challenges for researchers. The country has undergone significant reforms in areas such as governance, human rights, and economic development. However, issues of inequality, regional disparities, and political contestation remain salient. Researchers must navigate these dynamics carefully, considering how they shape both the research process and the interpretation of findings.

Methodological Challenges: Fieldwork, Access, and Ethics

Fieldwork in Morocco involves a range of methodological challenges that require careful consideration. Access to research sites and participants is often mediated by social networks and institutional structures. Gatekeepers—such as community leaders, local officials, or intermediaries—play a crucial role in facilitating or restricting access. Building relationships with these actors requires time, cultural competence, and an understanding of local norms.

Trust is a fundamental component of successful fieldwork. As Clifford Geertz (1973) emphasizes, ethnographic research depends on the establishment of rapport between researcher and participants. In Morocco, where interpersonal relationships are highly valued, trust is often built through informal interactions and shared experiences. Researchers must be willing to engage with participants beyond formal interviews, participating in everyday activities and demonstrating genuine interest in their lives.

Language barriers can pose significant challenges, particularly for researchers who are not fluent in local languages. While French is widely used in academic and administrative contexts, many social interactions take place in Darija or Amazigh languages. Researchers must therefore develop strategies for overcoming linguistic obstacles, such as working with interpreters or acquiring basic language skills. However, the use of interpreters introduces additional layers of mediation, raising questions about accuracy, representation, and power.

Ethical considerations are central to the research process. Issues of informed consent, confidentiality, and data protection must be addressed in ways that are sensitive to local contexts. In some cases, formal consent procedures may be perceived as intrusive or unnecessary, requiring researchers to adapt their approaches while maintaining ethical standards. The principle of “do no harm” is particularly important in contexts where participants may be vulnerable or where research findings could have unintended consequences.

The ethics of representation also warrant careful attention. Researchers must consider how their work portrays the communities they study and whose voices are included or excluded. As Smith (1999) argues, research has the potential to reproduce inequalities if it privileges the perspectives of the researcher over those of participants. In Morocco, this necessitates a commitment to collaborative and participatory approaches that empower local actors and acknowledge their contributions.

Positionality, Reflexivity, and Power Relations

The positionality of the researcher plays a critical role in shaping the research process. Factors such as nationality, gender, language proficiency, and institutional affiliation influence how researchers are perceived and how they interact with participants. In Morocco, these factors can affect access to certain spaces, the willingness of participants to engage, and the interpretation of data.

Reflexivity involves critically examining one’s positionality and its impact on the research process. As Pierre Bourdieu (1990) argues, reflexivity is essential for understanding the social conditions of knowledge production. It requires researchers to acknowledge their own biases and to consider how these biases influence their work.

Power relations are inherent in the research process. Researchers often occupy positions of privilege, particularly when they are affiliated with well-resourced institutions. These asymmetries can shape interactions with participants and influence the kinds of knowledge that are produced. Addressing these power dynamics requires a commitment to ethical engagement, including transparency, accountability, and respect for participants’ autonomy.

Knowledge Co-Production and Epistemic Pluralism

The recognition that knowledge is co-produced through interactions between researchers and participants challenges traditional models of research that emphasize objectivity and detachment. In Morocco, this co-production is evident in the ways participants shape the research process, from determining what information is shared to influencing how it is interpreted.

Epistemic pluralism—the recognition of multiple ways of knowing—offers a framework for engaging with this complexity. Rather than privileging a single epistemological perspective, researchers must be open to diverse forms of knowledge, including those rooted in local traditions and practices. This approach aligns with calls for decolonizing research methodologies and for fostering more inclusive and equitable forms of knowledge production.

Conclusion

Doing academic research in Morocco requires a nuanced and reflexive approach that acknowledges the complexity of the research context and the relational nature of knowledge production. By engaging critically with issues of power, representation, and methodology, researchers can contribute to more ethical and meaningful scholarship.

This essay has argued that research in Morocco is not merely a technical endeavor but a deeply contextual and interpretive process. It requires an awareness of historical legacies, cultural dynamics, and epistemological assumptions, as well as a commitment to collaboration and dialogue. Ultimately, the challenge—and the opportunity—of conducting research in Morocco lies in embracing this complexity and using it as a basis for generating richer and more inclusive forms of knowledge.

References 

• Asad, T. (2003). Formations of the secular: Christianity, Islam, modernity. Stanford University Press.
• Bourdieu, P. (1990). The logic of practice (R. Nice, Trans.). Stanford University Press.
• Boum, A. (2013). Memories of absence: How Muslims remember Jews in Morocco. Stanford University Press.
• Foucault, M. (1980). Power/knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings 1972–1977 (C. Gordon, Ed.). Pantheon Books.
• Geertz, C. (1973). The interpretation of cultures. Basic Books.
• Said, E. W. (1978). Orientalism. Pantheon Books.
• Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples. Zed Books.

Op-Ed

Trump Administration Is Using Christianity to Justify Murder and Empire


There is no love of the stranger in Trump, Vance, and Hegseth’s embrace of imperial Christianity.

By George Yancy ,

Truthout

April 21, 2026

President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance, and Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth bow their heads during the invocation the amphitheatre at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Virginia, on Memorial Day, May 26, 2025.

BRENDAN SMIALOWSKI / AFP via Getty Images


As a philosopher, I am known for bringing a deeply uncomfortable truth to bear upon the hegemonic, hierarchical, and privileged embodied reality of whiteness. My aim has been to shape a critical discourse and produce a body of philosophical writing that reveals the ways in which whiteness functions as a mask, as a veil, to cover over the history of its violence. It does this through acts of denial, bad faith, and what philosopher Charles W. Mills terms an epistemology of ignorance, which produces “the ironic outcome that whites will in general be unable to understand the world they themselves have made.”

My aim has been to show white people to themselves with no chaser, and to attempt to free them from forms of evasion that result in the illusion that whiteness constitutes a site of “innocence.” Whiteness is not innocent; it is a structural and embodied lived reality that is predicated upon violence against those who have been constructed (such as Black people) in their very being as wretched. In short, to be Black is precisely to be not human, not moral, not civilized, not intelligent. It is this “not” that underwrites and renders legible the idea of whiteness as “supreme.” But whiteness is parasitic upon Blackness, which functions as its host. James Baldwin powerfully argued that Black people “have functioned in the white … world as a fixed star, as an immovable pillar.” It is this reality that generates a profound question that reveals the fundamental instability of whiteness: Without a dehumanizing concept of Blackness, what would happen to whiteness? My hope is that it will crumble. To inflect Michel Foucault’s provocative words, “One can certainly wager that [whiteness] would be erased, like a face drawn in sand at the edge of the sea.”

Bear in mind that my target of analysis is whiteness as a form of structural violence that white people perpetuate through their complicity. We must call into question the idea that white people are pre-social neoliberal subjects who exist beyond the messiness of racist practices and assumptions that are fundamentally linked to being white. In her book, Being White, Being Good, Barbara Applebaum argues that a pedagogy of white complicitly “addresses ideologies and the ontological, epistemological and ethical frameworks that support and maintain racial injustice.” This hard truth means that the most “radically” anti-racist white person remains tied to those historical struts and girders of white supremacy, even if only unconsciously, and is thereby ethically and socially implicated in the perpetuation of whiteness as structural violence.

I am less well-known for writing about my Christian sensibilities. I suspect this is due to a problematic tendency — something learned early in my philosophical training — to keep my personal faith private, lest I be dismissed as someone lacking “serious” philosophical grounding. As a graduate student at Duquesne University, I took a graduate seminar that explored various important developments within the area of liberation theology, including the work of both Leonardo Boff and Gustavo Gutiérrez, who are two prominent pioneers of the movement. Years later, after speaking with the professor about my religious Christian sensibilities, she said, “But I thought that you were an atheist.” However, my critical work on whiteness hasn’t strayed far from my religious sensibilities. For example, I have edited Christology and Whiteness: What Would Jesus Do? (2012), Buddhism and Whiteness: Critical Reflections with Emily McRae (2019), and In Sheep’s Clothing: The Idolatry of White Christian Nationalism with Bill Bywater (2024).

For these reasons and more, I was honored recently when asked by Dr. Greg Forster, who is a senior fellow and affiliate professor of biblical and systematic theology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School and editor of Faith & Flourishing, about my thoughts regarding cultural diversity in higher education from a Christian perspective, which I see as linked to celebrating the other — not effacing the stranger. I am now more open to lay bare my own Christian identity — one couched in radical love — especially when inundated with the toxicity and perversity of white Christian nationalism and those, like U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, who shamelessly invokes the name of Jesus Christ to wage wars. I am sickened by the implications. To this perverted understanding of Christianity, I want to shout: “Not in my name!” Imagine thanking Jesus for the horrible murder caused by the U.S. strike on a school in Minab, Hormozgan Province, in Iran that killed 168 people, including over 100 children. Think of the obscenity of thanking Jesus for the violent dismemberment of Iranian children. I reject Hegseth’s warmongering and idolatrous interpretation of the historical Jesus who preached love, even of one’s “enemies.” So there is a throughline in this article that allows me to reflect theologically on the theme of cultural diversity and also critique those machinations that I see as anti-theological, anti-Christian, and indeed, idolatrous.


Christian Nationalists in US Government Push Attacks on Iran as Holy War
With Pete Hegseth leading the Department of Defense, the line separating church and state is increasingly blurred. By Sara Gabler , Truthout April 2, 2026

Forster asked me: “Almost no topic produces a higher ratio of heat to light than cultural diversity in higher education. What distinctive contribution can Christians make to help academic communities, and society at large, develop a sustainable approach to these difficult issues?”

To answer this question, it is important to mention that I am racially embodied as Black. This lived experience shapes how I think about questions regarding justice, diversity, equity, and inclusion. It means that the question of cultural diversity isn’t an abstraction for me, especially given the reality of anti-Black physical violence and epistemic violence regarding the historical denial of the value of Black life and the denial of knowledge produced by Black people. Given the history of the transatlantic slave trade, Black Codes, Jim Crow segregation, lynch mobs, police violence, and mass incarceration, I literally have skin in the game of this discussion. I am also what I call a hopeful Christian theist, which means that hope, that sense of being unfulfilled, sustains my longing for the Divine, which points to that which is transcendent. It isn’t a form of hope that simply fills the gaps of failed proof for the existence of God. My hope embodies commitment to and striving for a promise that is theologically rich and inextricably linked to the practice of chesed, agape, social justice, and kindness. It is also a hope that yearns for the truth of a certain philosophical anthropology — one that grounds our existential mystery, our being in the cosmos, in the Imago Dei (image of God), and speaks to the character of our nature as transcendent through a Divine act of love.

My understanding of cultural diversity is informed by the idea that education is not about cultural arrogance, political hegemony, and the silencing of diverse voices. Metaphorically, the root meaning of education (educere — to lead out) implies movement, change, and transformation. It is a form of transformation that involves the process of engaging in critical thinking, daring, and courage. It means being vulnerable, capable of being “wounded,” which means being open to hearing about forms of injustice that touch your being at its core, that forces you to rethink your own “innocence” and “ethical purity.” It means to listen to and be touched by the stranger.

To embody the opposite of this is to pretend invulnerability; it is to relate to others through an attitude of imperial hegemony; it involves silencing others. Theologically, to silence the other is a failure or refusal to recognize the existential and spiritual integrity of others, to appreciate their existence as a gift. Critiquing how the power of the state usurps the prophetic message of Christianity, Cornel West writes, “Most American Constantinian Christians are unaware of their imperialistic identity because they do not see the parallel between the Roman Empire that put Jesus to death and the American Empire they celebrate.” For me, genuine education is diametrically opposed to the formation of an imperialistic identity, which seeks to dominate dialogical spaces that are meant to invite and cultivate epistemic humility. Left unchecked, such identities prioritize flags and missiles over love, inclusive fellowship, and reconciliation.

There are times when my students are clearly troubled, in a generative way, as we critically discuss, with as much honesty as possible, issues about what it means to contribute to injustice and political hegemony; and what it means to face one’s own complicity in perpetuating racism, sexism, and other oppressive hierarchies that do violence to other human beings or even the Earth itself. Within this context, love is inextricably linked to outrage, both of which are what I want my students to feel, to express. As a member of the academic community, one that is made up of a diversity of human beings who are always in process, finite and fallible, I encourage my students to feel outrage when it comes to forms of learning that are designed to create lockstep conformity. It is that kind of conformity that fears difference, that abhors those who don’t look like “us,” or those who come from countries that are deemed “ersatz,” “racially problematic,” or “uncivilized.”

As a Black philosopher, I share with my white students what it means to be deemed “racially other” and thereby excluded from the normative status of whiteness. I share with them how whiteness is itself a site of privilege and how, when left unchallenged, these students unconsciously reap the benefits of that privilege. This awareness is often painful as they have been taught, even if only implicitly, to think of whiteness as a site of “innocence.” But as James Baldwin wrote, “It is the innocence which constitutes the crime.” Given my own sense of ethical fallibility, which follows from my hopeful Christian theist positionality, I too cannot claim “innocence.” I too perpetuate forms of injustice. This way of demonstrating vulnerability within the context of my classroom helps me and my students to acknowledge and embrace a space of collective responsibility, even as that responsibility is distributed differently according to other factors like whiteness. There is the mutual understanding that even though I am the teacher, we all share in the process of “leading out,” of becoming more than we were before entering the classroom together. As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel reminded us, “We must continue to remind ourselves that in a free society all are involved in what some are doing. Some are guilty; all are responsible.”

This sense of responsibility isn’t easy to carry. Yet, it is required of each of us. Within the context of cultural diversity — especially within our current political climate of unabashed toxicity of xenophobia and the erasure of cultural diversity — I pedagogically encourage my students to rethink the meaning of “neighbor.” Indeed, I invite them to explore the often-hidden assumptions and biases that they harbor that lead them to feel that sense of irrational unease where the “neighbor,” the “stranger” is a Black person, an undocumented immigrant, a Palestinian, a Haitian, a Somalian, a queer person. As a hopeful Christian theist, I take it as an act of love to show kindness to the least of these. What is this but the parable of the Good Samaritan? Indeed, it is an act of caritas, an act of what I would call un-suturing, where one opens oneself to the other and refuses to seek shelter (or walk away as fast as possible) in fear or refuses to look the other way. In this case, one stops in their tracks and refuses to mark the other as “unclean,” “abominable” and existentially nugatory. In this case, we accept the presence of the other as a gift, as an opportunity to demonstrate love and kindness.

I teach my students that we bring our entire complex selves to the university classroom, including our arrogant selves, our myopic selves, and our intolerant selves. Accordingly, what we deem “deviant” and “strange” within those classrooms is what we have already marked as such within the “outside world.” It is our broken selves that preexist the classrooms that we later come to inhabit. Hence, we must look to transform both spheres, and ourselves within each, as they are connected. Moreover, the creation of this transformative space isn’t simply about epistemic and cultural tolerance. After all, tolerance needn’t radically move the heart. Additionally, neoliberal forms of marketing “cultural diversity” can function as forms of superficial propitiation by, for example, giving false representations (or overrepresentations) of racial diversity in the form of brochures that are designed to sell an image as opposed to reality.

Through the lens of hopeful Christian theist sensibilities, and an understanding of the embodied love of the historic Jesus, it is important that we cultivate forms of love that radically dismantle structural and psychic barriers that render some people ungrievable while others are deemed grievable. Rabbi Heschel challenged us where he wrote, “Daily we should take account and ask: What have I done today to alleviate the anguish, to mitigate the evil, to prevent humiliation?” I would add: What have we done to eliminate the fear that keeps us apart, to eradicate the hatred, to open ourselves to those voices that have been historically marginalized, to listen with patience, to hear the plight of Palestinian and Iranian children, to hear the pain of those in poverty, to create a place in our hearts for those innocent children who need our loving kindness as they are driven from war-torn countries or are torn to pieces after being bombed by warhawk and self-serving “leaders” who initiate wars of choice? As I bear witness to the U.S.’s bloodlust in the form of murdering Iranian children, I know that the United States is in desperate need of a radical transformation. Christian ethics calls for drawing others near — not to inspect them or prejudge if they are “fit” or, as Donald Trump said, “to unleash hell” upon them. Unlike Pete Hegseth, who prayed violence against those “who deserve no mercy,” Christian ethics embodies mercy. Christian ethics refuses prayers of “overwhelming violence” in the name of Jesus Christ. Just imagine the scene for a moment, imagine the grotesqueness of this prayer spoken by Hegseth. As a ritual, it is dangerous and idolatrous; it distorts, flattens, and does violence to the memory of the historic Jesus, the one who said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” This is the message of Pope Leo XIV to Trump: “God does not bless any conflict. Anyone who is a disciple of Christ, the Prince of Peace, is never on the side of those who once wielded the sword and today drop bombs.”

As we know, Trump, by his own words, is derelict when it comes to being a peacemaker. After all, it was just on April 7 that he threatened on social media that “a whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again.” This is the same Trump who didn’t flinch when it came to posting an AI image of himself as Jesus. The contradiction and decadence in both cases are palpable. So, Trump’s threat is to commit the unconscionable act of genocide against over 93 million Iranians? Surely, they too, are created in the image of God, and one would think that Hegseth and JD Vance are aware of this theological faith claim as they both identify as Christians. But the problem is that Hegseth and Vance are both invested in weaponizing, instrumentalizing, and cheapening the concept of God as a tool for “justifying” the murder of other human beings. And the image of a white Jesus is itself deeply problematic, with, as Richard Dyer points out, “the gentilising and whitening of the image of Christ and the Virgin [Mary] in painting.” The image of Trump as Jesus borders on the sacrilegious, especially as it depicts angelic-like figures and his “supernatural” powers to heal. And even if we grant that he thought that it was an AI image of him as a “healer,” a healer doesn’t threaten genocide, a healer doesn’t threaten that “all Hell will reign down” on other human beings and then add, “Glory be to GOD!” In the midst of human carnage, a healer doesn’t talk about using bombs “just for fun.” Under this imperial Christianity, Hegseth does not pray to God that Iranians are kept safe from Trump’s war of choice.

What I counterpose to imperial Christianity is Christian love. As James Baldwin writes, “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” To be open to cultural diversity and yet to wear this mask is mutually exclusive. The latter must be torn from our eyes and ripped from our hearts. If one claims to be a Christian, then there must be the belief that each one of us embodies the gift of the Imago Dei, which many have covered over because of our fear, divisiveness, and fanaticism. Embracing cultural diversity is easy when it fails or refuses to ask anything radical from us. Christianity asks for more; it asks that we be more, and to be more without the machinations of safety, but by the fragility of hope.


This article is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0), and you are free to share and republish under the terms of the license.

George Yancy


George Yancy is the Samuel Candler Dobbs professor of philosophy at Emory University and a Montgomery fellow at Dartmouth College. He is also the University of Pennsylvania’s inaugural fellow in the Provost’s Distinguished Faculty Fellowship Program (2019-2020 academic year). He is the author, editor and co-editor of over 25 books, including Black Bodies, White Gazes; Look, A White; Backlash: What Happens When We Talk Honestly about Racism in America; and Across Black Spaces: Essays and Interviews from an American Philosopher published by Rowman & Littlefield in 2020. His most recent books include a collection of critical interviews entitled, Until Our Lungs Give Out: Conversations on Race, Justice, and the Future (Rowman & Littlefield, 2023), and a coedited book (with philosopher Bill Bywater) entitled, In Sheep’s Clothing: The Idolatry of White Christian Nationalism (Roman & Littlefield, 2024).