The Shifting Racial Paradigm

Two recent political storms threaten to rain all over black people's parade, and we have neither an umbrella or a rain cap, no raincoat, boots, or even all-purpose Totes. The implications of President Bush's veto of the Civil Rights Act of 1990 and the "defeat" of Louisiana Republican State Rep. David Duke for the U.S. Senate are more significant than what many of the progressive or liberal civil rights organizations and political leaders -- black or white -- have allowed.

Duke's popularity and Bush's veto (or, more accurately, the sentiments influencing Bush's veto) both share the same roots: the notion held by many whites that minorities, primarily blacks, have gotten over without any individual initiative. They strongly believe that the federal government is no longer for white people and that it is held hostage to every Tom, Ricardo, and Harriet crying racism, sexism, or any other "ism."

The burden of finding our way through the backlash of pent-up white resentment will not be solved at the polls, or by crying racism, or by bemoaning the fact that the federal government has turned back the clock. The civil rights veto and the increasing legitimization of David Duke (see "David Duke's Short Journey From KKK to GOP," May 1989) pose an intellectual dilemma for blacks more than a political problem.

How will we blacks think our way out of the crises we find ourselves in on so many fronts? What is our role in the changing political landscape? And what new creative paradigm can black intellectuals devise to chart our collective way through the 1990s and into the 21st century?

IT WAS MOST INTERESTING to see David Duke in Washington, DC, to observe the Senate's failed attempt to override the Bush veto. It is easy to dismiss his comments as racist patter. But when you realize that many of the people who did not vote for Duke this time said that they could have if he had not been in the Klan, he is not so easy to dismiss.

More important, this new potential constituency -- those educated whites who earn two incomes, have no personal knowledge of the civil rights struggles in the South, are anti-crime and anti-taxes, and may even find themselves aligned with black causes from time to time -- may signal a major shift in the paradigm of race and power.

Although I would have preferred that he sign the civil rights bill, Bush's signature would not affect the black poor. The civil rights bill -- let alone its particulars -- is a non-factor in their lives. The 25 years between the first civil rights bill and this latest version does nothing to change that fact.

In the 1990s, the definition of the term "minority" is changing -- particularly in large corporations -- to mean Asians, Hispanics, and white women. Civil rights and equal opportunities for blacks (and American Indians) are separate issues; our histories in this country are different from other ethnic minorities, and they have different consequences.

The veto of the civil rights bill dramatizes the impotence of black political leadership. In the present scenario, blacks are in a no-win situation. The Democratic Party's traditional base of working-class white support is eroding, and it needs that support more than it needs blacks to win elections, particularly national elections. The anger and resentment that make Duke, Jesse Helms, and Gov. Guy Hunt of Alabama more palatable will continue to grow unless the Democratic Party leadership can convince working-class whites that they have a voice within the party.

That leaves blacks out in the cold. Remember, we're the reason why many whites left the Democratic Party to begin with. Race, per se, is never directly invoked as an issue. The buzz words are welfare, crime, drugs and violence, education, and quotas (let's not forget Jesse Helms' infamous TV ad showing white hands crumpling a job rejection notice concerning a position that went to a black).

Unfortunately Bush's veto helps Duke and Co. more than the bill's ratification would help blacks. So, to call this bill the "most important civil rights law of this decade," as former National Urban League President Vernon Jordan described it, at least for blacks, is misleading. It does little to help blacks define or prioritize our most pressing issues: spiritual renewal and community building, economic development, black male survival, and a host of other problems.

It is a sad irony that the issues which Duke and others are using so effectively against blacks in Louisiana and elsewhere are the same issues that are plaguing black communities in urban areas more than any group. Part of the problem has to be that blacks have no independent sociocultural base except the black church, and it is under assault and cannot face these problems alone. An independent black context to define what the issues are and to put our spin and direction on them is vitally needed -- civil rights act or no civil rights act.

Meanwhile, Duke can use both the Democrats and the Republicans as foils to his advantage, civil rights act or no civil rights act. He raises an issue, and both parties scramble both to disavow him and yet respond to the empathy his issues raise. He defines the debate and its tenor either way. Ultimately, race remains the central issue in the United States today.

Constant updating of the civil rights bill because the Supreme Court changes its mind on what's fair or unfair will not remove the burden of race and racism. At best it only ameliorates the burden for some.

Anthony A. Parker was assistant editor of Sojourners when this article appeared.