Black congressional districts are vestiges of the past

By Cynthia Tucker
ATLANTA CONSTITUTION

May 3, 2003

In the nearly four decades since passage of the Voting Rights Act, the pallid face of Southern politics has taken on a pleasant tan.

In 1970, there were only 565 African Americans holding office in the 11 Southern states of the Old Confederacy. By 2000, there were 10 times that many: 5,579. Most are mayors, city council members or state legislators, but a handful have risen to statewide elective office. Georgia has seven African-American officials who have been elected statewide, including the attorney general, Thurbert Baker.

That is astonishing political progress in a relatively short period of time. While racism has hardly vanished in America, it is a shadow of its former self. A glass ceiling routinely thwarts the political aspirations of black and brown candidates seeking to become governors or U.S. senators, but one or two have broken through. More will follow.

With genuine progress in evidence, it is time to reconsider one of the fundamental tenets of black political activism: Black voters should be densely packed into a few political districts, thereby guaranteeing that a few blacks will win election.

With savvy black politicians increasingly drawing white support, so-called "majority-minority" districts are no longer necessary. That's one form of affirmative action that has outlived its usefulness.

Oddly, the Bush administration disagrees. The Justice Department has gone to the U.S. Supreme Court to insist that Georgia's political boundaries should pack more black voters into a few districts, rather than spread them among many districts. Arguing against that view is Baker, Georgia's black attorney general, who insists that blacks can win office even if they run in districts where half the voters are white.

History shows that packing districts with black voters has unintended consequences. When they are confined to just a few political districts, other districts are left "bleached" - that is, white. The result - a few overwhelmingly black districts, the rest predominantly white - discourages moderate candidates who seek biracial support, while encouraging the intemperate campaigns that tend toward race-baiting. Two veterans who were finally defeated in November - former U.S. Rep. Bob Barr, a white right-winger, and former U.S. Rep. Cynthia McKinney, a black left-winger - are perfect examples of the extremists produced by packing black voters into a few areas.

So why does the Justice Department wish to encourage "majority-minority" districts? There is reason to suspect its motives. Georgia's "bleached" districts have tended to elect conservative Republicans, which suggests the administration's interests are partisan.

Before last year's elections, Georgia was represented by a polarized congressional delegation of eight white Republicans and three black Democrats. (The current case, Georgia vs. Ashcroft, involves state Senate seats, but the same logic applies to congressional seats.) But after the state Legislature redrew the congressional boundaries to spread black voters around more evenly, one white Democrat, Jim Marshall, was elected. He won by running a moderate campaign that appealed to voters across racial lines. Denise Majette, a black Democrat who defeated the inflammatory McKinney, won the same way. Isn't that the way it should be?

The Supreme Court should uphold Baker's view. After all, he knows what he's talking about: He has won the attorney general's office twice, even though the state's population is 71 percent white. He succeeded by running savvy campaigns that showcased his legal skills - not his race. That's something the nation's highest court ought to encourage.