The Stained Hands of Neutrality

Jason D. Thompson, PhD, Contributing Writer

The Rev. Dr. Jason D. Thompson is pastor of Sacramento’s St. Andrews AME Church, the oldest historically Black congregation on the West Coast. Additionally, he is an inaugural faculty member of the new Black Honors College at California State University, Sacramento.

The “Pilate Problem,” a concept I first encountered from the Rev. Dr. Asa J. Lee, President of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, highlights a timeless struggle with power, responsibility, and complicity in the face of injustice. This struggle is as relevant today as it was in ancient Judea and challenges us to confront ugly truths about our own roles in perpetuating systems of oppression. Even in these tense political and cultural times, it’s crucial to remember that we have the power to make choices that shape our lives. While some situations force us to react to circumstances beyond our control, we retain a fundamental freedom that Viktor Frankl described, suggesting that “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” (Man’s Search for Meaning, p. 66). This ability to choose our response, even amidst difficulty, is a powerful reminder of our inherent agency. This choice, however, is not made in isolation. We are bound together through shared and collective grief and the need to process the challenges ahead. Confronting injustice and its supporting systems take an emotional toll, yet it reminds us of the power of choice even when facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles.  

Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor who condemned Jesus despite knowing his innocence (John 19:4), embodies this dilemma. As an outsider, he remained detached from the plight of the marginalized, prioritizing rules over true justice. Fear, evident in his reaction to Jesus’ claim of divine origin (John 19:8), paralyzed him, as he worried that acknowledging such a claim could be interpreted as sedition against Rome and jeopardize his own position. Ultimately, he chose self-preservation over righteousness, symbolized by the act of “washing his hands” (John 19:16) while delivering Jesus to be crucified.

Driven by fear and a desire to appease the crowd (John 19:12), Pilate’s act serves as a typology for those in power who prioritize personal gain and comfort over the needs of the vulnerable. However, the crowd itself was not merely passive. When offered a choice between Jesus and Barabbas who was a known criminal, they actively demanded Barabbas’s release and Jesus’s crucifixion. This chilling decision exposes a darker element within the “Pilate Problem”—the human capacity not only to condone injustice but to actively desire it, particularly when it allows for scapegoating an innocent person and absolving oneself of responsibility.

The “Pilate Problem” challenges us to recognize that neutrality in the face of injustice is complicity. It forces us to confront the uncomfortable reality that we are not always mere bystanders but active participants in systems of oppression. This demands courageous leadership that transcends fear and prioritizes the protection of the innocent and marginalized. But beyond leadership, it requires individual moral accountability. We must overcome the temptation to abdicate responsibility, remembering that true power lies in service and the pursuit of justice, not dominance or self-preservation. While systemic change is complex and requires collective effort, we cannot underestimate the importance of individual action. We must resist conforming to the crowd, remaining silent when witnessing injustice, or choosing the easier path of condemning the innocent.

To overcome the “Pilate Problem,” we must cultivate moral urgency and a commitment to justice that transcends fear and apathy. Only then can we break free from the cycle of inaction and create a world where the voices of the marginalized are heard, their rights are defended, and justice prevails. But we must act now, for in the words of James Baldwin, “No more water, the fire next time” (The Fire Next Time, p. 117), that reflects the biblical flood while warning of a different kind of destruction if we fail to act.