Keith's question re MDMD Dixon's act of nonviolence

[Doug Millison]

Why does Dixon place his fist? Keith asks.  Good question. Most important,
in my opinion, it's a question that Pynchon doesn't answer in the text, and
none of us has the definitive answer.

It can only be answered by interpreting what Pynchon has written, or, more
aggressively perhaps, by changing the text to support a clear reading where
Pynchon leaves the text ambiguous, the way jbor has done, for instance,
when he emends Pynchon's text by adding "deliberately" or "with force" to
Pynchon's simple phrase,  "places the Fist" or the way jbor has reversed
Pynchon's sequence by rewriting it "a punch lands forcefully in the
slave-driver's face".

In my reading, from start to finish in this scene Dixon's first concern
appears to be to prevent further harm to the slaves,  that's what he gives
top priority; second priority,  to punish the slave driver, which gets, in
the end, short shrift; third priority (which he seems to discover as he
goes along, in a remarkable moment of character development), to heed his
conscience.  Heeding his conscience (Pynchon shows Dixon doing that, quite
explicitly) winds up taking precedence over punishing the slave driver.

Dixon appears to place his fist almost as a result of the same motion with
which he takes the whip from the slave driver.  "Dixon, moving directly,
seizes the Whip,-- the owner comes after it,--" (M&D, Ch. 72, p. 698)  As
Dave said, "Dixon doesn't quite even seem to yank the Slave Driver along
with the whip, rather, Driver's Face meets Dion's Fist in the Driver's act
of 'com[ing] after it."   That sounds about right to me.

Dixon's encounter with the slave driver is a strange mix of savagery and
slapstick.  The slave driver "screaming, having abandon'd all control [this
abandon contrasting neatly with the control that Dixon shows later in this
scene], and Striking ev'rywhere with the Whip"  *but* "having fail'd to
inflict much Injury." (698);  the almost-joke (Pynchon's not that
simple-minded, of course) of the slave driver's face crashing into Dixon's
fist.

Pynchon doesn't say why Dixon chooses to intervene, doesn't put us inside
Dixon's head. He simply shows Dixon moving into action, "down the Steps,
and into the Street" (a familiar Pynchon locale -- V., GR, Vineland all
feature violent street actions of a political nature, put down with
overwhelming force by the powers that be).

The first thing Dixon says has nothing to do with physical threat or
violence, he says merely, "That's enough." His next action reminds me of
the way nonviolent protesters use their bodies to block or absorb the force
of an oncoming police or National Guard line:  "He stands between the Whip
and the Slaves" then he requests the whip, "I'll have that."  Still not
violent, still calm.  What triggers his rage?  The trigger seems to be the
slave driver's reference to the slaves as "Property" although Pynchon
doesn't make this connection explicit.  At any rate, upon hearing
"Property", Dixon "seizes the Whip,-- the owner comes after it,-- Dixon
placers his Fist in the way of the oncoming Face,".

"Places" would seem to indicate a deliberate action by Dixon here, although
Pynchon's word choice leaves it ambiguous.  Why didn't Pynchon write "Dixon
punches the Driver's face"?  I don't know and I doubt anybody here knows
either.   In addition to rescuing these slaves, Dixon's intent from the
beginning of his intervention seems to have been to get the whip and beat
the driver with it -- although, again, I'm just guessing here because
Pynchon doesn't explain Dixon's intent. Dixon's placement of his fist seems
to be either (1) the physical result of extending his arm and hand to take
the whip from the driver, the fist formed as he grips his fingers and thumb
around the whip's handle, or (2) a deliberate act on Dixon's part, in the
heat of the moment he decides to let the driver run into his fist -- a
violent impulse that, later in this episode, he appears to intentionally
back away from when he chooses not to beat or kill the man.  Again, Pynchon
leaves it ambiguous, leaves it to the reader to attribute an intention to
Dixon's action.

Now Dixon's rage seems to intensify, he declares he will kill the driver,
Pynchon makes that very clear. But instead of acting on his threat, Dixon
hesitates. He listens to the driver's sniveling appeal to the potential
orphanhood of his children Tiffany and Jason, "protesting the usefulness of
his life" --  here Pynchon seems to be laying on the cartoon comedy with a
trowel.

Dixon continues not to follow through on his threat to kill the man, and
returns to his top priority -- set these slaves free so this driver won't
beat them any more -- and gives the slaves the keys so they can "unchain
themselves".  "Now then!" cries Dixon merrily -- apparently ready to return
to his stated goal of killing or whipping the driver, although Pynchon
again fails to say specifically what Dixon intends at this juncture.  The
Africans warn Dixon that he must leave, but Dixon stays, "still greatly
desires to kill the Driver."

But he doesn't kill him.  His conscience seems to stop him -- again,
Pynchon is ambiguous, he doesn't write that D's conscience won't let him
kill the driver, instead P shares what appears to be Dixon's unspoken
thought:  "What's a man of Conscience to do?"  Dixon's next sequence of
actions would appear to answer that question:  he threatens and lectures
the driver, puts the whip in his pocket, and leaves.

Dixon's voice breaks, I suspect, from the strain of reining in his violent
urge to kill the man -- it's an act of will that goes against the
adrenaline that must continue to course through his body, quite a feat of
self-control, actually, to withstand the flood of "fight or flight"
hormones and do neither, instead Dixon stands his ground and, methodically,
achieve his objectives (remove the whip so the driver cannot use it, set
the slaves free) without fighting or otherwise prolonging the cycle of
violence.

It's a remarkable reversal, really, the way Dixon has backed away from rage
and a pressing urge to kill the driver, a neat reversal from they way Dixon
appeals to his Quaker identity to stay out of a fight with a Virginian in
the chapter currently under discussion, too. It's a remarkable performance
by Pynchon as well, using the slapstick comedy to lighten what might
otherwise descend to bathos.  Pynchon writes with enough ambiguity to leave
Dixon's actions open to many interpretations, too; and, there's always the
possibility -- a strong one, in fact -- that Cherrycoke is making the whole
thing up, taking a thread of Dixon family lore and embroidering the story
for the amusement of his audience, just as Pynchon has apparently rewritten
the actual Jeremiah Dixon historical record to fabricate this story.