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June 1990
Interracial Coalitions
"New moderation" doesn't account for the dramatic gains
that black politicians made in the last elections
by Paul Ruffins
THE voters of Virginia made history last November when they elected a grandson
of slaves, L. Douglas Wilder, to be their governor. In New York City voters
elected a black man, David Dinkins, to be their mayor. Black mayors were also
elected in Seattle and New Haven--venues, like Virginia and New York City,
where blacks make up 26 percent or less of the population. The significance of
these victories has been obscured by political commentators, whose instant
analyses have congealed into two opposite versions of the conventional wisdom
concerning "moderation." Some black analysts have attacked these new officials
for being too moderate. Thus Susan Anderson, writing in The Nation, blasted the
new generation of black politicians for caving in to the expediency of building
political coalitions rather than being advocates for the economically
disenfranchised black masses. Similarly, in a nationally syndicated column
headlined "BEWARE OF 'CROSSOVER' POLITICS," Tony Brown warned that the election
of blacks by whites will only result in black politicians' turning their backs
on black interests in order to appease their new white constituents.
The very moderation decried by these black writers was hailed by conservatives
and the establishment press generally. The Wall Street Journal's headline "NEW
GENERATION: BLACK MODERATES WIN AT POLLS BY TARGETING ONCE-ELUSIVE WHITES," was
echoed in media commentaries across the country. In these stories "moderation"
was most often defined in Wilder's words, as not making "special appeals to
special groups." A truer definition would have been not making "special appeals
to black people." Wilder's victory in Virginia clearly rested on his appeal to
pro-choice voters, and in New York, Dinkins explicitly sought the Jewish
vote.
For conservatives, positing a "new generation" of black politicians preserves
the Reagan-era contention that the problems facing minorities are largely of
their own making. According to the theory as it has emerged on the pages of The
Wall Street Journal, whites would not vote for "old-generation" black
politicians, not because many whites harbored racist sentiments but because
black politicians had not evolved to the point at which they would be worthy of
white support. The new-generation theory moreover, allows for the dismissal of
the old generation, primarily the always inconvenient Jesse Jackson, as
obsolete.
Though the moderation displayed by Wilder and Dinkins is real enough, it is by
no means new by the standards of most current black mayors or members of the
House of Representatives, who are predominantly mainstream liberal Democrats.
In the first half of the 10lst Congress there were five black congressmen who
could be considered to belong to a new generation, because they were under
fifty and were elected during the Reagan era. None could be labeled "angry" or
"radical." In fact, of the over-fifty generation of black congressmen only two,
William Clay, of St. Louis, and Gus Savage, of Chicago, could be considered
angry, and only two, George Crockett, of Detroit, and Ron Dellums, of Berkeley
(a Democrat who considers himself a Socialist), could be called radical.
The point is that there is no new, more moderate generation of black
politicians. Most have been moderate all along. There have been angry civil
rights leaders and black activists, but the angry black politician is a
stereotype of conservatives. "What I think happens," Congressman Ed Towns, of
Brooklyn, recently told me, "is that people confuse black politicians with
black civil-rights leaders such as Martin Luther King and Stokely Carmichael,
most of whom never ran for anything."
To be sure, the newer and older generations of black congressmen do differ.
Many older members of the Congressional Black Caucus, for instance, are
strongly pro-labor, even anti-corporation. In contrast, with the exception of
Congressman John Lewis, of Atlanta, primarily known as a civil-rights activist,
the "new-generation" black members--men like Alan Wheat, thirty-eight, of
Kansas City; Floyd Flake, forty-five, of Queens; Kweisi Mfume, forty-one, of
Baltimore; and Mike Espy, thirty-six, of the Second Congressional District of
Mississippi--are known mainly for their interest in regional economic issues
and small-business development. To take one example, Flake, who is a minister,
won office by playing up his credentials as a catalyst for economic
development; under his leadership his church built a 300-unit housing complex
and revitalized dozens of small businesses. Flake maintains, against critics
like Susan Anderson, that what in fact distinguishes his generation of black
congressmen from their predecessors is their focus on business and the economic
empowerment of the black community.
"We have a much broader sense of black participation in the wider economy,"
Flake told me recently. "We see business as generating the necessary resources
for social change, versus the idea that social change creates the avenues for
business." This is not to suggest, however, that the black House members care
only about black issues. According to both the League of Conservation Voters
and the National Wildlife Federation, the Congressional Black Caucus has had a
better environmental voting profile than any other group in Congress. It also
has made a strong showing on women's issues.
WILDER and Dinkins, then, did not win because they belong to a new generation
of moderate black politicians but because they benefited from a new set of
circumstances that allowed them to capture record numbers not only of black
votes but of white votes too. By becoming the official Democratic Party
nominees, they acquired unprecedented (for black politicians) amounts of money,
TV time, and organizational support. Black candidates are usually relatively
poorly funded, but recently they have raised nearly as much money as their
opponents. During the primary-election campaign Dinkins raised $2.9 million,
nearly as much as the powerful incumbent mayor, Edward Koch. Wilder spent
approximately $6 million, almost as much as his opponent. In addition, the
Democratic National Committee provided the Democratic ticket in Virginia with
$200,000, a phone bank, and volunteers to get out the vote. Wilder and Dinkins
were also able to build on Jesse Jackson's efforts to register thousands of
black voters and to compile lists of donors and committed supporters.
Support from the party was important in another way too. Even though many
Democratic voters defected to the Republican opponents of Wilder and Dinkins,
both black Democrats had their party's undivided backing, while their opponents
faced intra-party battles. As Virginia's lieutenant governor, Wilder was such a
clear choice to run for governor that his party nominated him unanimously at a
state convention. Marshall Coleman, his Republican opponent, had to wage an
expensive and debilitating primary campaign against the former senator Paul
Trible and Representative Stan Parris. Neither Trible nor Parris played any
significant role in Coleman's general-election campaign, while both Senator
Charles Robb and Governor Gerald Baliles, despite having clashed with Wilder in
the past, backed him to the hilt.
Dinkins had similar advantages. Once he won the primary, he received the strong
support of leading Democrats, including Mayor Koch, Governor Mario Cuomo, and
Senator Edward Kennedy, of Massachusetts. Again, his opponent, Rudolph
Giuliani, was not so lucky. Giuliani's rancorous feud with New York's most
popular Republican, Senator Alfonse D'Amato, cost him dearly at the polls: the
$8 million worth of negative television advertising bought by his
Republican-primary challenger, Ronald S. Lauder, who was widely thought to have
entered the race at the prompting of D'Amato, left him a seriously weakened
candidate in the general-election campaign.
But the key to the Wilder and Dinkins victories was not money and strong party
support, let alone moderation. It was a factor that may say something hopeful
not just about black politicians, the Democratic Party, or even American
politics but about American society: in Virginia and New York other issues
(party loyalty and the right to choose an abortion) were ultimately more
important than the racial issue. The Democratic Party in Virginia and New York
was able to stand behind its black candidates because its white voters allowed
it to do so. Even though many white Democrats did desert their party's
candidates for governor and mayor in the end, making both elections much closer
than the polls had predicted, they did not reject the party for running black
candidates: in both Virginia and New York other (white) Democrats on the ticket
did very well. The willingness of white voters to support tickets headed by
blacks and to give the blacks themselves record levels of support--Dinkins got
30 percent of the white vote, Wilder got about 42 percent--was what was really
new about the Wilder and Dinkins victories. In comparison, a year earlier Jesse
Jackson wasn't able to win more than 15 percent of the white vote in Virginia
or New York.
While discrepancies between exit polls and the election returns cast some doubt
on the poll data, it seems clear that much of Dinkins's and Wilder's backing
among whites came from younger voters. According to a survey by The New York
Times and WCBS-TV News, white voters thirty to forty-four were much more likely
to vote for Dinkins than were white voters over sixty. The age differential was
also significant in Virginia. This generation gap among white voters is
emerging at a critical time. Black politics has expanded to the limit of what
black voters can accomplish by themselves. Data provided by the Joint Center
for Political Studies shows that with the exception of New Orleans, all the
nation's majority-black congressional districts already have a black member of
Congress. In addition, with the exception of Richmond, Virginia, all
majority-black cities of more than 200,000 already have black mayors. This
means that for black politicians to make gains, they will have to face the new
challenge of running against other black candidates in primary-election
campaigns in which white voters are apt to be the swing vote. (A good example
of this was the bitter 1986 congressional race in Georgia between two
civil-rights heroes, Julian Bond and John Lewis.) It also means that black
politicians will have the chance to use bridge issues, like the environment and
women's rights, to connect with a larger electorate. "I think there was a
feeling on the part of many black elected officials," Lewis told me, "that they
could have been a congressperson or a mayor only in a district or city that is
majority-black. But the elections of Dinkins and Wilder changed that
altogether. Doug Wilder's success sent a strong message to black and Hispanic
men and women that you can move up, that you can have a base that is larger
than your ethnic group."
Wilder's victory showed that a black candidate can attract enough white support
to win in an area with a proportion of black voters as low as 17 percent. If 17
percent is the minimum proportion of black voters needed for a black candidate
to build a winning coalition, more than eighty congressional districts could
send a black member to Congress, and eight states could elect a black governor
or black senators. That possibility is the promise for the future of the
victories of Douglas Wilder and David Dinkins. Their present meaning was best
summed up by Ed Towns when he said, "There isn't a new generation of black
politicians--there is a new generation of white voters."
Copyright 1990 by Paul Ruffins. All rights reserved.
The Atlantic Monthly; June 1990 ; Interracial Coalitions; Volume 265,
No. 6; pages 28-34.
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