PDF Summary:The Message, by Ta-Nehisi Coates

In The Message, acclaimed writer Ta-Nehisi Coates weaves together a series of travelogues to show how narratives about race and power shape our understanding of the world. Drawing from his travels to Senegal, South Carolina, and Palestine, he explores themes such as the power of storytelling as an act of resistance, the pervasive legacy of enslavement and white supremacy on the Black experience, and the battle for control over historical narratives.

In this guide, we’ll unpack what Coates sees as the truth-telling power of the written word and how he applies that perspective as he explores cultural and political flashpoints in each of the places he visits. Throughout, we also incorporate perspectives from other thinkers to contextualize Coates’s observations within wider scholarly and public discourse on race, power, and identity.

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(Shortform note: The debate over Gorée’s history reveals a lot about the relationship between myth and historical truth. While leaders like Barack Obama, Nelson Mandela, and Pope John Paul II have made pilgrimages to the site to pay homage to its historical significance, there has been a broad consensus among scholars since the 1990s that Gorée played a relatively minor role in the slave trade. In fact, the structures on the island that allegedly once held enslaved people were likely part of a private home that had nothing to do with slavery. However, Gorée still functions as a “place of memory,” serving as a tangible connection to the broader historical reality of slavery’s horrors, regardless of whether specific events occurred there.)

This tension led Coates to a key insight: Even imagined traditions and places can hold legitimate power when we acknowledge their constructed nature. He argues that Black Americans have a right to consecrate symbolic sites like Gorée, but they’re also responsible for questioning historical myths. For Coates, sites like Gorée give meaning and purpose, and stand as both a beginning and an end point: a place where one people was eliminated and another was born. Thus, mythologizing Gorée is an act of a cultural creation by a people who wish to assert their own agency in telling their story—to reclaim an identity and a narrative that was stolen from them.

(Shortform note: In The Hero With a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell explores the function of mythology in shaping how we see ourselves in the world. According to Campbell, imagined traditions of the kind described by Coates serve a function that goes beyond their historical and scientific “truth.” They are instead about binding us closer to each other and providing us with a shared sense of community. Though we may lead separate lives as individuals, we’re bound together through shared myths that represent something larger than ourselves. Thus, even if the story around Gorée isn’t true, it functions as a starting point for the shared Black experience, a place where the narrative of suffering, struggle, and redemption began.)

Part 3: A Classroom Under Fire in South Carolina

Now that we’ve discussed what Coates learned from Senegal, let’s turn to his visit to South Carolina. There, he visited a white high school teacher named Mary Wood, who’d assigned Coates’s book Between the World and Me to her English students. Her aim was to help them grasp racial injustice in America, but the assignment ignited a firestorm of controversy.

(Shortform note: In Between the World and Me, Coates considers how violence, fear, and intellectual revelations shaped his perception of racial identity. He also argues that American society ignores or downplays the systemic racism and struggles Black people face. Some critics had a sharply negative reaction to the book, arguing that it simplistically attributes every societal problem (and Coates’s personal struggles) to racism. Other reviewers, like Michele Alexander (author of The New Jim Crow), said the book raises important questions about the history and future of American racism.)

What Coates encountered in South Carolina was another reminder of the power of narrative. He recognized that the battle for how to reckon with America’s racial history wouldn’t be waged in the streets and or won with violence. Stories would be the true battleground. In this section, we’ll explore the controversy around the push to ban certain texts from classrooms, the struggle over American history, and how narratives and storytelling shape the limits of our moral and political imagination.

A Fight for Educational Freedom

Coates writes that Wood’s English class became a flashpoint when students complained that Between the World and Me made them feel bad about being white. In response, writes Coates, the local school board banned the teaching of what it believed to be “divisive” ideas or any that might cause students “discomfort.” Coates made the journey to South Carolina to support Wood at a school board meeting. Coates says he was heartened to see how many local residents turned up—many of them white Southerners deeply aware of their state’s racial history—to argue for Wood’s right to teach material that challenges traditional hierarchies.

(Shortform note: Commentators have noted that book banning in the US increased dramatically during this time, primarily driven by conservative opposition to content addressing race, LGBTQ+ topics, and diversity education in schools. There were over 10,000 book bans in public schools during the 2023-2024 academic year alone. However, there’s some evidence to suggest that only a minority of people support banning books—according to one 2023 survey, 92% of parents trust librarians to curate appropriate materials in schools and public libraries.)

History As a Battleground

Coates writes that the controversy he witnessed in South Carolina provided a window into how schools have turned into war zones over different ideas about America’s past. He writes that these school board hearings are about more than just which books get assigned on a curriculum. They’re about who gets to control the narrative of our past.

Coates argues that some Americans believe in a fundamentally benevolent vision of their country—they’re invested in a narrative that presents America as an exceptional, inherently just nation. Works of art and history that center Black voices can contradict that narrative by highlighting racist oppression. Confronted by these works, Americans who subscribe to the benevolent-nation narrative struggle to reconcile the gap between the evidence of oppression and what they want to believe. It’s often easier to resist or dismiss the evidence entirely, writes Coates—which is why books like his get banned.

American Exceptionalism

The belief in America’s unique moral standing that Coates and other writers seek to challenge is something that political scientists call American exceptionalism. At its core, it’s the belief that the US is fundamentally different from other countries—a beacon of democratic values where institutions are strong enough to prevent the political violence that other societies experience. Some argue that this narrative misrepresents the actual trajectory of US history. In their view, the country has been no stranger to political violence, particularly against minority groups. For instance, they point out that during the post-Civil War period, white citizens deposed Black-led democratically elected governments through violent coups d’etat.

Opponents of American exceptionalism argue that it’s not just a misleading interpretation of history; it’s an active threat to democracy. This is because it obscures the fact that democratic values require active protection and enforcement. American institutions, just like those of any other country, can be fragile when subjected to sustained assault. Confronting that reality, they say, requires abandoning a heroic narrative about American history, acknowledging how racism has shaped the nation’s political conflicts, and prioritizing democratic institutions and civic values over maintaining a racial hierarchy.

Storytelling Shapes What’s Possible

Coates writes that the battle being waged over American history also affects the future. He explains that narratives don’t just depict life—they shape it by determining which experiences and perspectives are worth remembering and which aren’t. Writers, artists, and film creators all make choices about which voices to center, which experiences to validate, and which futures to envision—and these choices inevitably carry political weight. When we consistently see certain types of people as heroes, villains, or background characters, they shape our moral imagination by setting limits for what’s possible and what isn’t.

Coates writes that this is why white racial propagandists created their own corpus of art that affirmed their preferred narratives of white superiority and white people’s rightful place at the top of the hierarchy. This can be seen in films and novels of the 20th century that present the antebellum South as an idyllic place, downplaying the violence and exploitation at the heart of the plantation system. It can also be seen in contemporary works that present a “white savior” narrative, one that centers the heroism and decency of a white protagonist who helps Black people overcome racism and poverty—presenting Black characters as passive beings to be rescued, rather than having their own agency.

Meanwhile, stories that expand representation, challenge existing power structures, or imagine alternative ways of organizing society can begin to knock those mental barriers down. Coates writes that this is why authoritarians often target books and art. They understand that controlling the narrative, authoring the story, and shaping the limits of possibility are their most powerful weapons.

Japan’s Struggle with Historical Narratives

These controversies around national historical narratives aren’t unique to the US. Japan has experienced ongoing tensions regarding the teaching of its wartime past. Certain history textbooks used in dozens of Japanese junior high schools omit critical historical events such as the Nanjing Massacre of 1937, in which the Imperial Japanese Army murdered over 200,000 Chinese civilians and raped tens of thousands of women and girls during their occupation of Nanjing, China’s capital at that time. Some textbooks even suggest that Japan’s 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor was justified as a response to US economic sanctions.

These educational materials reflect efforts by nationalist groups to reshape Japan’s narrative around its imperial past and wartime actions in Asia. Organizations like the Society for the Dissemination of Historical Fact actively work to create textbooks that they claim present an “unbiased” view of history, free from negative depictions of Japan’s past, which they characterize as propaganda from neighboring countries like China and Korea.

Critics of these groups argue that by erasing uncomfortable historical facts from educational materials, young Japanese people are being deprived of knowledge about their nation’s past, leaving them ill-equipped to make informed decisions about their country’s future. This selective presentation of history has contributed to ongoing tensions with neighboring countries that experienced Japanese occupation and aggression.

Part 4: Confronting Zionism and Historical Erasure

In this final section, we’ll explore Coates’s experiences in Palestine—the Israeli-occupied territory on the West Bank of the Jordan River. We’ll look first at Coates’s analysis of Israel’s founding myth—a narrative that situates the nation as a safe haven for Jews established after the Holocaust. Then, we’ll explain why Coates believes Israel has itself become an oppressor in its treatment of the Palestinians, and we’ll explore what he sees as parallels between the Palestinian struggle and that of Black Americans. Finally, we’ll discuss Coates’s argument about the importance of elevating Palestinian narratives.

Oppression and Renewal: The Origins of the State of Israel

In Jerusalem, Coates visited the Yad Vashem memorial, Israel’s official memorial to the victims of the Holocaust. It tells the story of the near-destruction of the Jews of Europe through personal artifacts and survivor testimonies—creating not just a chronological narrative of the Holocaust, but conveying to visitors the profound weight of loss, the imperative of remembrance, and the enduring meaning of each individual life that was destroyed.

(Shortform note: In recent years, Yad Vashem has faced a tension between its role as a guardian of Holocaust memory and its function as a diplomatic tool for the Israeli government. The memorial has hosted authoritarian figures like Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán and Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, over the objections of many in the Israeli press. Critics say these visits reflect a broader shift in global politics where autocrats who admire the country as a “pure” ethno-nationalist state, rather than as a democracy, seek closer ties with Israel. Staff at Yad Vashem have themselves expressed distress about this instrumentalization of Holocaust memory, feeling that their institution’s educational mission is being compromised by politics.)

Coates describes being deeply impacted as he sees the Hall of Names, which lists the millions killed. While certainly aware of the Holocaust as a historical event, Coates found it hard to grasp tragedy at this scale as he came face to face with the sheer gravity and enormity of the atrocity.

Coates writes that the enormity of the Holocaust has become a foundational story for Israel—not merely as historical backdrop, but as the defining narrative that shapes its national identity and purpose. Just as he observes about America, Coates writes that Israel’s foundational story weaves a narrative about the nation and its people that places it firmly on the side of justice and truth. In this telling, the Jewish people rose from the literal ashes of the death camps to reclaim their own story and carve a democracy out of hostile terrain.

The Holocaust and the Establishment of the State of Israel

Some scholars argue that a desire for statehood and security in the wake of the Holocaust wasn’t the primary factor in the founding of Israel. According to this school of thought, Jewish aspirations for statehood were already firmly established and being actively pursued decades before the Holocaust. Dubbed Zionism, efforts to create a Jewish homeland can be traced at least as far back as 1897, when journalist and activist Theodor Herzl founded a movement for that exact cause.

The turning point came not after the Holocaust, but with Britain’s 1939 White Paper, a policy that severely restricted Jewish immigration and development in Palestine, which was under British control at the time. This policy shift by the UK government forced Zionist leaders to abandon their previous strategy of gradual development under British control and instead pursue active confrontation with Britain to achieve statehood. The timing is crucial—this strategic reorientation occurred before the Holocaust’s full scope was widely understood.

The United Nations’ deliberations that led to the creation of the State of Israel showed little indication that considerations about the Holocaust significantly influenced the discussion. The UN Special Committee on Palestine actually included a principle explicitly stating that creating a Jewish state in Palestine should not be viewed as a solution to broader Jewish problems—essentially rejecting any connection between the tragedy and the territorial resolution.

The Oppression of the Palestinians

Coates writes that Israel sees itself as the national homeland for a people who’ve endured millennia of oppression. However, during his ten days traveling through occupied Palestine, he came to believe that Israel was itself engaged in the brutal oppression of Palestinian people. He also saw parallels between Israel’s oppression of Palestine and the historical subjugation of Black people in the US. We’ll explore these two ideas in the sections below.

(Shortform note: Israel and Palestine are two political entities split along ethnic lines—Jewish and Arab, respectively—that claim the same territory in the Middle East. Israel is an established state recognized by most of the world, while Palestine refers to the territories of the West Bank and Gaza Strip, where Palestinians seek to establish an independent nation. As of September 2025, over 80% of United Nations member states recognize Palestine as a sovereign state, but armed conflict over land, borders, and political sovereignty continues, and Israel maintains military control over much of the territory claimed by Palestinians.)

A Modern-Day Colonial State

Coates sees Israel as an apartheid state. For him, Israel is a country in which the dominant ethnocultural group—Jewish Israelis—are given full rights of participation in a healthy democracy and are protected by the rule of law. On the other hand, he notes, Arab and Muslim Israelis (that is, Palestinians) are excluded from full participation in the country’s civic life, are subject to intimidation and harassment by the authorities, and have been economically marginalized. Daily life for Palestinians, Coates observes, is an ordeal of constant surveillance and control as they contend with regular military checkpoints and house searches that Jewish settlers aren’t subjected to.

(Shortform note: The characterization of Israel as an apartheid state is deeply controversial. Critics of this characterization note that, unlike the rigid racial hierarchy that defined the Jim Crow American South or South African apartheid, Israel operates as a democratic system where Arab citizens participate fully in political, educational, professional, and military institutions. Arab Israelis hold positions across all levels of government, serve in parliament, work in the judiciary, and integrate into various sectors of society. The legal framework provides equal protection regardless of ethnicity, creating a fundamentally different structure from the systematic exclusion that defines truly apartheid systems.)

Going further, Coates describes how he came to see Israel as a colonial project designed to extend Israeli political and economic dominance over the occupied territories. He points to how Israel makes it cheaper and easier for Jewish citizens to move to West Bank settlements, using things like housing discounts and better funding for schools and infrastructure. In contrast, writes Coates, Palestinians face a maze of permit requirements for basic construction, with most applications rejected. They’re often blocked from accessing farmland and natural resources, which get redirected to Israeli use instead. As a result, Israeli settlers maintain control over Palestinian land, which aligns with common definitions of colonialism.

Critiques of the Colonization Narrative

Some commentators have raised serious questions about framing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the lens of oppressor vs. oppressed or settler colonialism. They argue that it’s inaccurate and provides intellectual cover for violence committed by the pro-Palestinian side.

The problem with the colonization-centered analysis, according to its critics, is that it ignores the deep historical Jewish connection to the land, including ancient kingdoms, continuous presence over thousands of years, and the reality that most Jewish migration occurred during waves of the very type of persecution and displacement that pro-Palestinian activists claim to stand against.

Critics also say that the colonization narrative hinges on a theory that categorizes Israelis as “white” oppressors and Palestinians as “people of color” victims. This, they argue, improperly brings American racial dynamics into a Middle Eastern context where they don’t apply. Moreover, it completely overlooks the demographic reality that roughly half of Israeli Jews are Mizrahi—descendants of Jewish communities from Arab and Persian lands who lived in the region for centuries before being expelled from their home countries after 1948. The presence of Ethiopian Jews and other non-European Jewish populations further undermines any simple racial analysis.

Finally, critics of the colonization narrative say it dehumanizes Israeli civilians in ways that make atrocities committed against them seem acceptable or even praiseworthy. When people are categorized as illegitimate “colonizers” rather than human beings with rights to life and safety, violence against them can be spun as justified resistance.

Historical Parallels With Jim Crow

To Coates, Israel’s treatment of Palestine is reminiscent of the Jim Crow South, the system of state and local laws that enforced racial segregation and political disenfranchisement against Black Americans in the Southern US. He finds this connection reflected in the language Palestinian activists use in attempting to create their own story of subjugation, loss, and attempted renewal. His Palestinian friends and guides evoked writers from the canon of Black liberation—James Baldwin, Angela Davis, and even himself. In hearing this, Coates writes that he felt a sense of kinship with his Palestinian companions, a solidarity between historically oppressed peoples.

(Shortform note: Coates is not the first to draw parallels between the Palestinian and Black American struggles. As far back as the mid 1960s, the Black American revolutionary Malcolm X wrote that Zionism was just thinly veiled colonialism. In his 1964 essay, “Zionist Logic,” he wrote that Israel was a puppet state set up by European nations for the purpose of dividing the Arab world and forcing Arab leaders to waste billions of dollars on defense rather than on economic development. This, he argued, kept Middle Eastern and African countries in a state of poverty, which made it easy for them to be exploited by white Europeans. In The Autobiography of Malcolm X, he suggested that similar systems keep Black Americans oppressed.)

The Way Forward: Elevating Palestinian History and Voices

After exploring Israel’s subjugation of Palestinian people, Coates turns his attention to the way forward. He argues that for Palestine to be liberated, the world must hear directly from Palestinians because, as we’ve explored, narrative control represents one of the most fundamental aspects of power and oppression.

Historically, Israeli, American, and European authorities have controlled the Palestinian narrative. For example, Coates points to Israeli historical projects like the City of David, an archaeological site and national park that, he says, distorts ancient history to justify Israeli claims to Palestinian land. According to Coates, officials at the site selectively curate the artifacts and their presentation to visitors to advance a narrative of unbroken Jewish historical connection to the land—while minimizing other historical periods and cultures, particularly those of Palestinian, Byzantine, and Islamic heritage.

(Shortform note: The narrative Israeli authorities advance about the City of David is that the historical King David established Jerusalem as the ancient capital of a unified Jewish kingdom, creating a continuous historical connection between the Jewish people and the land. In their view, this link justifies modern Israeli claims to the area. Indeed, the foundation that funds archaeological work at the site and operates the national park also helps Israelis settle in nearby Palestinian neighborhoods. But critics see the City of David differently—some note that there’s little scholarly evidence of King David’s ties to the site, and others argue that Palestinians have lived in and shaped the area for centuries, justifying their claims to the area.)

Coates adds that narrative control extends into media coverage of Israeli-Palestine relations. For Palestinians, decades of having their experiences filtered through Israeli, American, and European media have resulted in their systematic dehumanization and the erasure of their historical claims to land and dignity. Thus, writes Coates, Palestinian storytelling becomes an act of resistance against narrative colonization—just as it is for Black Americans. When Palestinians speak for themselves, they cease being objects of political discourse (who are passive and acted upon) and become human beings who act with agency.

Transforming Testimony Into Tools for Justice

Some commentators have taken Coates’s critique of Western media coverage even further. They argue that since the October 7, 2023 attacks on Israel by the Palestinian group Hamas, the social media giant Meta has engaged in widespread suppression of pro-Palestinian content on Facebook and Instagram. This reflects a pattern of content moderation that disproportionately impacts Palestinian voices and those expressing solidarity with Palestine.

However, some media outlets have deliberately sought to preserve and center Palestinian voices during the Gaza War that followed in the wake of the October 2023 attacks. The Independent Commission for Human Rights, Palestine’s national human rights institution, assembled a team of twenty-two researchers to collect testimonies from Palestinian victims of war crimes.

The project’s collection of testimony prioritizes the dignity and agency of Palestinian victims, particularly women who say they’ve experienced sexual violence at the hands of the Israel Defence Forces (IDF). With over four hundred potential war crimes documented, the project reveals patterns of abuse that might otherwise remain hidden or dismissed, turning these private traumas into public evidence with legal and political significance.