In the wake of the horrific Charlestown shooting I am trying to remember the last time someone made a racist comment, and I remained silent. Still thinking about it.

I am not impressed by symbolic responses to hate. While pretending to be significant they are really ineffectual, just exerting power on those who claim to have it. Like . . . taking down the Confederate flag. It would be respectful to many and disrespectful to others who probably see no racial significance in the flag. At any rate, it is a symbol, nothing more than a feeble gesture toward the past. Take it down . . . leave it up, it doesn’t solve anything, but cleaning up the landscape a little.

Or like a public apology for the U.S. responsibility for slavery, as Timothy Egan urges in recognition of “Juneteenth,” the final release of slaves in the South. How does this address the angry minority who will not participate in the apology, but instead will become more disaffected and angry? Symbolism changes nothing.

Even the execution of the murderer is largely symbolic. While Dylan Roof may be appropriately punished, his death would become a focus for anger for those who hate him and those who sympathize with him; those who claim justice has been served and those who claim a white patriot has been martyred.

What changes the conscience of the nation is the aggregate personal responses to this tragedy, the soul-searching question, How am I implicated?

The NRA maintains a stony silence, waiting for the moment when political points can be scored. What if some NRA members stood up and said, “That man should never have owned a gun. What can I do to change that?”

Law enforcement officials should be asking, What should we have known the last time this man was held for lesser crimes? Not that the police were criminally negligent, but they should consider what could have prevented this man from walking the streets with a gun.

Senator Lindsey Graham and his colleagues, instead of indignantly declaring this a hate crime, might well ask whether South Carolina’s gun laws are strong enough. Of course he might sabotage his own candidacy in a country ruled by the NRA. So what? Is he serious about preventing future acts of this nature? What price is he willing to pay?

And I should at least be ready to confront those who express racist attitudes in my presence or on social media. I work in an academic community where racism is generally not tolerated, but occasionally I read a Facebook post or hear someone mutter a condescending remark about race that deserves a response. Instead of withdrawing, I should confront the speaker with my personal objections. I don’t like confrontation, but that is a price I should be willing to pay.

Complicity is the enemy of social change. If we are not ourselves refusing to comply, we are not changing ourselves or our society. Symbolic gestures are distractions from what we should be doing ourselves to prevent the tragedies of Charleston and Newtowne. We get momentary satisfaction from lowering a flag or a public act of repentance, but such gestures are more polarizing than transforming. Transformation occurs when every citizen rejects the outrage in their own milieu, paying whatever price is required to affect hearts and minds.

Dylan Roof imagined he was leading a white uprising with his massacre. Perhaps it was only derangement, but perhaps his maniacal views were too much tolerated. Perhaps there were some sympathizers, who nonetheless rejected violence. Who was complicit in his plans?

So let the symbols, the political agendas, and even the cry for retribution hold back, while we engage murder on a personal level. The Dylan Roofs of this country should have no delusions about our complicity. And we should have no delusions about someone else being our catalyst for change.