Henry Louis Gates, Jr.'s "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Black Man" Revisited

O. J. Simpson (Photo by Vince Bucci)

“If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit,” Johnnie Cochran told the jury, in O. J. Simpson’s 1995 murder trial. And that’s what they did – they acquitted. It’s one of the most breathtaking verdicts in the history of criminal law, flying in the face of what appeared to be overwhelming evidence of guilt. Simpson’s death this week brought back memories of that riveting trial. It also reminded me of Henry Louis Gates, Jr.’s New Yorker essay on the case – “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Black Man” (October 23, 1995). Last night, I reread it. What an extraordinary piece of writing! It begins brilliantly:

“Every day, in every way, we are getting meta and meta,” the philosopher John Wisdom used to say, venturing a cultural counterpart to Émile Coué’s famous mantra of self-improvement. So it makes sense that in the aftermath of the Simpson trial the focus of attention has been swiftly displaced from the verdict to the reaction to the verdict, and then to the reaction to the reaction to the verdict, and, finally, to the reaction to the reaction to the reaction to the verdict—which is to say, black indignation at white anger at black jubilation at Simpson’s acquittal. It’s a spiral made possible by the relay circuit of race. Only in America.

Gates looks at the case from many angles. He sees it as counternarrative: “To believe that Simpson is innocent is to believe that a terrible injustice has been averted, and this is precisely what many black Americans, including many prominent ones, do believe.” He sees it as blacks’ distrust of the justice system: “Wynton Marsalis says, ‘My worst fear is to have to go before the criminal justice system.’ Absurdly enough, it’s mine, too.” He sees it as soap opera: “So there you have it: the Simpson trial – black entertainment television at its finest.” He sees it as black prowess in the courtroom: “By the same token, the display of black prowess in the courtroom was heartening for many black viewers.” I found it heartening, too. And inspiring. Johnnie Cochran became one of my heroes. 

Most compellingly, Gates sees it as “racial reduction” and argues strongly against it. He says,

Yet to accept the racial reduction (“WHITES V. BLACKS,” as last week’s Newsweek headline had it) is to miss the fact that the black community itself is riven, and in ways invisible to most whites.

He goes on to say that he himself was convinced of Simpson’s guilt and was “stunned” by the verdict. 

I think it’s fair to say that many people reacted the same way. I remember being at the Merchantman Pub, in Charlottetown, when the verdict came down. The place was packed. All eyes were on the TV screen above the bar. There were four other lawyers at my table. We took bets on whether the verdict would be guilty or not guilty. I was the only one who bet not guilty. Why? It had nothing to do with race. I’d been following the trial and I was impressed with the way Simpson’s defence team had shredded the prosecution’s case – no search warrant, improperly stored DNA, and so on, not to mention that bloody glove found at the murder scene that didn’t fit Simpson’s hand. I felt there was a good chance the jury would throw the case out. 

One aspect of the trial that Gates doesn’t discuss is Simpson’s wealth, which enabled him to hire some of the best defence attorneys in America. That’s an advantage most of us don’t have. I’m not downplaying the so-called “race divide.” It was surely a major factor in Simpson’s case. But his trial also illustrates a wealth divide. People who can afford to hire top notch lawyers to defend them are more likely to avoid being found guilty than people who can’t.

Gates concludes his piece by likening OJ’s trial to an “empty vessel” into which each of us pours our own meanings. I agree. The verdict is endlessly interpretable.