Conspiracy Theory at Church

Vegas pastor claims forces bent on destroying black boys

Damon Hodge

Scuttlebutt was that the Rev. Robert Fowler's keynote kickoff to a two-day church conference would reprise the incendiary speech of '60s-era black separatists like Elijah Muhammad and Stokely Carmichael. In other words, the white man was going to take it on the chin.

That scenario didn't materialize either.What did materialize was a church-ish walk-through of the tenuous plight of black boys, whom Fowler compared to endangered species like the "short-nosed sturgeon, Nashville crayfish and Wyoming toad."

Brisk on the outside, Victory Missionary Baptist Church—where hundreds gathered to hear Fowler talk about this conspiracy—was alight with religious fervor on the inside, a choir the size of some college bands raising their voices, praise team members channeling the Holy Spirit and ushers accepting tithes.

To a chorus of amens and hallelujahs, Fowler, pastor of the 8,000-member church, preached about black boys living fruitful lives and allowing God to order their steps: "Boys, you must understand that you are children of destiny," he boomed, admonishing the hundreds in attendance to find a young black male and tell him, "you are somebody."

Lamenting the sobering data on young black males—too many live in single-parent households, drop out of school and join gangs; high numbers are incarcerated in juvenile detention; not enough come to church; "we need to get brothers off the streets and into these seats," Fowler said—he equated their plight with that of the Hebrew slaves in the Old Testament. Fowler recalled Pharaoh's orders to kill all first-born males, rising out of his fear of the rise of a Hebrew king, and his decree that only girls could get an education.

"Municipalities and principalities worked against the destiny of Hebrew boys," he said.

Rehashing the story of Moses, the large-voiced pastor laid out a plan to begin saving young black males, who are similarly under attack. It consisted of prayer, protection—"Moses' family hid him from Pharaoh"—and discipline. Parents must filter corrupt people, music and television shows out of their children's lives.

"There is no reason a child should have his or her door locked. You let him lock you out of a room that you pay the mortgage for?" he asked.

"At 13 years of age, I decide who your friends are. Why is a 13-year-old on the phone at midnight? A 13-year-old has no business being on the phone at midnight."

Fowler's zeal was ecumenical, impressive. His interest, earnest and genuine—he has a young son. Most parishioners acted as if the information was revolutionary and revelatory and not, as it was, a variation on messages preached over the decades and outlined in books like Jawanza Kunjufu's popular Countering the Conspiracy to Destroy Black Boys. Fowler's cures seemed more Dr. Phil than Billy Graham: Respect life and authority, give back to the community, value hard work and support those you're responsible for.

Solving a conspiracy isn't that easy.

We can't legislate morals. Fact is, people marry, have kids and get divorced. Some folks have kids but never marry; others adopt and still some choose to be single parents. Single-parent households tend to have lower incomes than two-parent families.

We can't eradicate peer pressure. Some kids can handle it. While their friends wear Jordans, they're content with Adidas. Others take what they can't get by legal means.

We can't hire our way out of the problem. Jobs aren't a panacea, particularly to the kid making $1,500 a night selling drugs. He knows about the occupational hazards—that's why he's got a gun.

We can't seem to get guns off the streets. It's weapons, weapons everywhere in some neighborhoods. Some knuckleheads have better arsenals than the cops.

We can't eliminate gangs overnight or, for that matter, over a decade or generation. They've been here for 30 years, meaning you've got young boys who grow up wanting to be thugs. There are a lot of things we can't do. But do they add up to a coordinated, calculated conspiracy? Or is it evidence of how various factors, which may have conspiratorial origins, colluded against black boys?

About that word—conspiracy. Fowler mentioned the flack he'd received for using it. Why, he wondered, when Hillary Clinton used it to describe a right-wing cabal out to get Bill, and Al Gore to justify his loss in the 2000 presidential election, and Howard Stern to carp about his squabbles with the Federal Communications Commission?

"Some say it's inflammatory," he said, "but I'm not sure what the fuss is over a black preacher using the word."

The thread in those instances is that dots were connected to make a case. Fowler's message, timely, prudent, resonant and powerful as it was, might've been better tasked as a call to arms. Like a good pastor, Fowler left the masses inspired—some no doubt have done and are doing what he espoused. Talk after the service and outside the church veered toward refocusing energy and recommitting to saving an endangered generation.

However, if you're going to talk about a conspiracy, you should unveil the conspirators—it helps to know who your enemies are.

With this nation's history of scandal and cover-ups—from Jim Crow laws to poll taxes, the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment to COINTELPRO, Rockefeller drugs laws to mandatory-minimum sentencing—there's certainly ample stuff to choose from. Combating the conspirators, well, that's a topic for another speech.

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