Acknowledging Prejudice

Everyone is a prisoner of his own experiences. No one can eliminate prejudices—just recognize them.
Edward R. Murrow

Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experiences of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.
Douglas Adams

En Panamá es folclórico decir “negro de mierda”.
Franz Wever, President of Panamá’s Baseball Federation


The afternoon of Friday, March 10, the telephone lines of RPC radio were jammed—it seemed that everyone in the country wanted to discuss Panama’s 10-0 loss to Holland in baseball’s first World Classic. The overwhelming majority of callers were bitterly disillusioned, and they pointed their fingers at everyone—from the President of the Republic to the batboy—while trying to pin down the culprit of the team’s poor performance.

But what astounded me was something that was never mentioned. Not once. It was something that, only a few days earlier, had stunned me to the core. Yet on the afternoon of Panamá’s loss, it didn’t seem to be on anyone’s mind.

On Monday, March 6, in La Prensa, Guido Bilbao reported that last December several Panamanian team presidents and Roberto Kelly—a former major league player and then manager of the national team—had a heated argument over the refusal of the presidents to allow their players to adhere to Kelly’s proposed practice schedule. In frustration, Kelly called their decision hypocritical, particularly in light of their condemnation of Mariano Rivera—the Yankee ace reliever—who opted to rest during the off-season.

According to the article, one of the presidents—who still remains unidentified—after listening to Kelly’s remarks, turned to Franz Wever, the president of Panamá’s federation, and said, “Esto te pasa por contratar a negros de mierda.”

Within days of that meeting, Roberto Kelly resigned.

In the United States, baseball has been a remarkable forum for challenging racism. The signing of Jackie Robinson to the Brooklyn Dodgers helped open doors for African-Americans not only in sports, but in all professions. And, without question, Latin Americans who reside in the US have benefited as well—particularly baseball players who, at present, are prominently represented in the sport.

What’s more, in the ensuing years, major league team owners and executives have been suspended, fined, or fired for making racist remarks.

But Latin American society has yet to reach American levels of awareness when it comes to the subtleties and perils of racial discrimination. This was clearly evident when Franz Wever, president of Panamá’s baseball federation, casually stated during an interview that the offensive remark is nothing to be concerned about because it is a mere manifestation of Panamanian folklore.

Those of us who live in Latin America need to realize that such comments severely damage our collective soul. These remarks strike at the heart of our humanity and of our oneness. And in glossing over what was said about Roberto Kelly’s heritage, we are ignoring one of the more serious issues confronting the world today: how to deal with she or he who is different from you or me.

When we allow racist discourse to go unchallenged, we condemn the embattled ethnic groups to sit on the margins of their nation’s development. And this, in the case of Panamá, condemns large numbers of people of African and indigenous descent to remain underfed, uneducated, and unemployed.

We must no longer tolerate racist comments such as the one directed against Roberto Kelly. If indeed such remarks are part of Panamá’s folklore, then this is a cultural trait that Panamanians must first learn to recognize, and then learn to live without.