Flannery O’Connor’s 1948 short story “The Barber” opens with this line: “It is trying on liberals in Dilton.” The fictional town of Dilton is set in O’Connor’s native state, Georgia, where the conservative party—with its Jim Crow segregation laws—was very popular with white Southerners in the mid-twentieth century. As the story continues, we witness a political confrontation between Rayber, a college instructor in the town, and his barber (who remains unnamed). The barber, and all the other men in his shop, condescendingly mock Rayber for his liberal politics and his support of racial equality. They instead support a politician named Hawkson, a self-proclaimed demagogue who runs primarily on a platform that seeks to broaden the racial divide between white and black southerners.

As the tale progresses, Rayber grows increasingly determined to prove the superiority of his own politics to those racist attitudes of the other white men in the barbershop. He even grows irate as he defends his beliefs, ultimately knocking his barber to the floor in a fury. In many ways, his assault on the barber is justified. Yet, O’Connor-as-narrator seems to be criticizing all involved parties in this tale—except for the black man working in the barbershop named George. For this very reason, “The Barber” is a curious story of Flannery O’Connor’s, especially for us in the year 2025. Most twenty-first century readers can clearly side with Rayber, given the reprehensible political views of his barber. However, I want to suggest that O’Connor is critiquing Rayber’s white liberal politics even as she also condemns the segregationist policy of her native state. Rayber is quite clearly the “good guy” in this tale, but he is not without shortcomings. And, as much as this mode of political dialogue is outdated today, I still think this story can tell us something useful.

O’Connor’s story gets directly to the point within the first few paragraphs. We learn that, after participating in the “Democratic White Primary,” Rayber has switched barbers because of his political outburst weeks beforehand. Learning this small bit of information, we are then transported back in time to the moments that led up to this violent altercation between the two men. Within the first few lines of dialogue, while Rayber is getting a cut and a shave, his barber labels him a “n-word-lover” because he supports Darmon, a liberal politician who stands against segregationist policy—at least as much as a Georgian politician would in the late 1940s. Shocked by the brutal language, Rayber begins to devise an imaginary rebuttal to his barber retrospectively. O’Connor writes, “If [Rayber] had not been taken off balance, he would have said, ‘I am neither a Negro- nor a white-lover.’” This rebuttal that Rayber never actually delivers reflects a political attitude common in white liberal circles. He wants to signal to his own altruistic, virtuous belief system in a manner that places him above his barber’s unabashed racism. He wants, in other words, to visibly gesture to his position on the moral high ground. Without question, Rayber’s political views are morally right when we place him next to his barber, and I believe Flannery O’Connor wants us to recognize this fact. The barber, for instance, makes some vicious comments about black southerners, and he ultimately desires that the Georgia state government will “keep them in their place.” Rayber is clearly appalled at his barber’s racism, as are most twenty-first century readers. Nonetheless, the college instructor’s trouble is that he is so desperate for someone to recognize his ethical superiority that he doesn’t truly back up what he believes. It is his need to signal to his virtue, O’Connor suggests, that trips him up in the end.

As the tale continues, Rayber’s exchange with the barber escalates. When the teacher calls Hawkson a “demagogue,” he immediately regrets his choice of language because he wants the barber’s black assistant George, to understand his rationale. Rather than defend Hawkson, the barber celebrates the fact that his candidate calls himself “the best damn demagogue in the state!” This brief exchange indicates that Rayber not only perceives himself as morally superior to the barber but also significantly smarter—another pitfall of white liberalism. He wants George to perceive him as a good person, but he is nervous that his intellectual capabilities are too much for the assistant to comprehend. In a sense, then, Rayber views black men with his own tinge of prejudice. He is, perhaps, not much better than his racist barber. Rayber’s desire for others to see his virtue and intelligence isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it seems mostly performative in this story. And his belief that he is the smartest man in the room is a detriment to his argument. Throughout the story, the barber seems to recognize Rayber’s intellectual condescension, and he repeatedly throws it back in the teacher’s face. For instance, he exclaims, “Big words don’t do nobody no good. They don’t take the place of thinkin’.” Rayber responds, “Thinking! You call yourself thinking?”

Rayber, so irritated that he cannot defeat his barber in a verbal repartee, vows to return to the barbershop next week with an entire essay defending his liberal position. He must prove his intelligence. He must prove his virtue. Yet Rayber’s ultimate defeat comes when he returns to the shop for this very reason. Reading his essay aloud to the white gentlemen and George, he sincerely thinks that he will win voters over to his cause. He even thinks that George, a man in a very precarious position, will take up Rayber’s argument in front of the barbershop men. Rayber is horribly mistaken. After sneering at the teacher, the barber asks his assistant, “Who you gonna vote for, George?” George responds, “I don’t know is they gonna let me vote. Do, I gonna vote for Mr. Hawkson.” The problem with Rayber is that he is so concerned with appearing virtuous and intelligent that he doesn’t even really consider the political situation of the Jim Crow South. He is so concerned with appearing “good” to George that he doesn’t even account for the tense situation into which he has thrown the man. George’s answer to his boss should tell us a lot. The black man doesn’t know if he will be allowed to vote because of Jim Crow policy. This is his answer. But then, he understandably explains that he’ll vote for Hawkson if he is allowed. Maybe George will vote for Hawkson. Or maybe he is just saying what his boss expects to hear. Regardless of George’s reason, Rayber is too self-absorbed to understand that he has put the black man into an impossible situation.

Tying O’Connor’s “The Barber” to the political state of the U.S. in 2025 may ultimately be an impossible task. However, I do think Flannery O’Connor’s work has something to say to us today: politics that focuses on identity, on morality, on intelligence instead of any actionable plan will always ring hollow—as Rayber’s character shows. He clearly cares about racial equality in a time and place where it was not popular. He wants social justice. Yet, he ultimately cares more about his own image than he does about the people most impacted by inequality and injustice.

Jack Love is a PhD Student at Texas A&M University where he studies American Literature of the twentieth century. He has contributed criticism and reviews to venues including Christianity & Literature, the Oxford Handbook of American Street Literature, and the Journal of Arts Writing by Students. Additionally, he teaches composition, business writing, and literature courses at Texas A&M.