Collective Guilt- Slavery, Apartheid, and the 21st Century

So, I've been on this historical biography/documentary kick here recently and have really been challenged by a lot of what I'm reading. Not only am I being faced with the magnitude of great evil human beings manage to inflict on one another- but I've also been encouraged by our extreme desire and capacity to 'right wrongs', administer justice, and administer mercy to the persecuted.

I just finished reading 'From Midnight to Dawn: Last Stops on the Underground Railroad,' which was an eye-opening account of the migration of slaves, freeman, and many abolitionists to Canada pre-Civil War. It's always hard for me to read these stories, because there is a part of me that feels that I have 'no place' identifying with the Black Community. After all, I'm just a white girl in the new millennium. I'm not sure where that feeling comes from, since there should be no excluding factors on sympathy. So, perhaps the issue is that I feel like an impostor EMpathizer, as I have personally never experienced this degree of degradation, humiliation, and injustice at the hands of another racial group.

This seems to be a common feeling in the white kids of my generation. What do we do with our compassion and sympathy? Often, I believe, it is transferred into a sense of false guilt. I've sat in Race Relation seminars where my peers were apologizing to African American counterparts for the actions of their ancestors. This practice has also made a splash in the Evangelical population, where pastors from different denominations, races, and socioeconomic statuses gather to seek true worship and harmony under the guidance of God's grace and forgiveness. I've been particularly moved by these displays, because I desire love, forgiveness, and compassion to be the flavor of the world I live in. But, I have to be honest when I confess....although the gesture is pure, is there any underlying power in the choice for a non-involved party to offer a collective repentance for the sins of their fathers?

This question has lingered with me for a while and definitely been debated amongst my friends. It was only today that I read the answer that resonates the most with me. I am reading 'Country of My Skull,' which is a journalistic retelling of the stories shared during the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, after apartheid ended. As she sets the stage for the establishment of the committee, she questions the very and usefulness of such an entity. Interviewing a Chilean activist (who participated in a similar commission after the brutal reign of Pinochet), she is convinced by his passionate reasoning. He uses the philosophy of Jurgen Habermas (an early 20th century German philosopher) to support his views. This is what I found particularly interesting--

"Collective guilt does not exist. Whoever is guilty will have to answer individually. At the same time, there is such a thing as collective responsibility for a mental and cultural context that makes possible crimes against humanity. One should be aware of the fact that traditions are ambivalent and one should stay critical about traditions and be very clear about what should be continued... South Africa will always need to question its mentality, while communities with a stronger democratic culture will need not do it so often. "

I found this particularly telling in light of just reading about America's own 'crimes against humanity' and the resulting inner dialogue detailed above. This resonates with me. It answers the questions of my Caucasian, American peers. Does it accomplish anything to apologize to our Black friends, neighbors, coworkers apologies for the evils of our fathers? I don't think so. We can cast away guilt for sins we did not commit. Our ancestors answer to a Higher Power for their own transgressions. However, our traditions and culture are, to some extent, suspect because of their impure beginnings. (White) America, like South Africa, will always have to check its mentality towards our brothers and sisters of darker skin.

While we have no power to heal the wounds of the past, we carry the full weight of forging a Christ-like tomorrow.