Racial divide
Bush won because hundreds of African-Americans in Florida weren't allowed to
vote. Now he's got to live with the consequences.
by Dan Kennedy
It seems you just can't get elected president these days without friends in
high places. Just ask George W. Bush, who'll be greeted with strains of "Hail
to the Chief" thanks to Florida's Republican secretary of state, Katherine
Harris, who did everything she could to stop the recount, and to five members
of the US Supreme Court, who made sure it wouldn't start again.
To those six, you can add a host of other Florida officials (including,
peripherally, Harris herself) who did everything they could to make sure the
state's extraordinarily high black turnout didn't rise quite high enough to
elect Al Gore. No, it wasn't Selma, Alabama, circa 1965 -- no clubs, no hoses,
no attack dogs, nothing that crude. Nor, for that matter, is there any evidence
that there was an organized, systematic campaign to deny African-Americans the
right to vote.
But through a combination of accidents, errors, and fate, it appears likely
that somewhere between several hundred and several thousand eligible black
voters -- more than enough to overturn Bush's official 537-vote margin of
victory -- were improperly deleted from the voting rolls, or intimidated by
police road blocks or bumptious poll workers into not voting. And if they did
vote, equipment failures made it far more likely that they would have their
ballots thrown out than their white counterparts.
From the moment Bush became president-elect, he has emphasized the inclusive
tone he hopes to set. In particular, he's tried to reach out to the black
community with two high-profile appointments of African-Americans: Colin Powell
as secretary of state and Condoleezza Rice as national security adviser.
But Bush's black problem isn't going to go away simply because his most
important foreign-policy officials are African-American. Indeed, the discerning
observer will note that Powell's and Rice's principal qualification is the same
as that of so many others with whom Bush has surrounded himself. That is, they
worked for Bush's father a decade ago.
The NAACP funded a $12 million get-out-the-vote campaign this year, and nowhere
was that call heard more enthusiastically than in Florida. Black turnout in the
state rose from 10 percent in 1996 to 15 percent in 2000, according to
exit-poll data reported by the Voter News Service. Given that African-Americans
make up just 13.4 percent of the state's voting-age population, black voters
didn't just wield their fair share of power -- they wielded disproportionate
power. Enough to elect Democrat Bill Nelson to the Senate over Republican Bill
McCollum, one of Bill Clinton's more priggish tormentors in the impeachment
scandal.
But though the black vote was big enough to elect Nelson, it wasn't quite big
enough for Gore. Some 93 percent of black voters in Florida supported Gore,
which means that only a slight increase in turnout would easily have overcome
Bush's lead. And turnout would have been higher if Florida officials had not
erroneously labeled some black voters as felons, or left them off the voting
rolls, or saddled their precincts with equipment that rejected an unusually
high proportion of ballots.
Taken together, these developments add up to a major hurdle for Bush to
overcome. As it is, he will enter office under the cloud of having lost the
popular vote and having been awarded the Electoral College not through the will
of Florida's voters, but by a five-to-four margin of the Supreme Court. And it
seems likely that the most visible, lingering symbol of his barely legitimate
victory will be Florida's black voters, who tried to elect Gore but were
prevented from doing so. Bush will hardly be the first modern president to
enter office a diminished figure (see "W. Has Company," This Just In),
but that makes his task no less difficult.
Unsurprisingly, Bush's supporters have chosen to sneer at the messengers of
these unglad tidings and ignore the message. When the Reverend Jesse Jackson
compared what had happened in Florida to the violent attacks on civil-rights
demonstrators in Selma 35 years ago, he was denounced as a rabble-rouser.
"Jesse Jackson will say anything to inflame passions," proclaimed the editorial
page of the Wall Street Journal. "Inflammatory charges," wrote black
conservative columnist Thomas Sowell.
To be sure, Jackson's metaphor was factually inaccurate. Emotionally, however,
it held a great deal of truth. It was only a generation ago that
African-Americans marched and fought and died for the right to vote. Politics
is largely symbolic, and for Black America few symbols are more potent than the
franchise. What happened in Florida may not have been deliberate. But it
happened. Of that there is little doubt.
Voting problems in the past election were hardly unique to Florida. On Monday,
the Los Angeles Times weighed in with a wide-ranging investigative piece
that revealed such scandals as vote-buying in Texas, fraudulently signed
mail-in ballots in Oregon, and payoffs from voting-machine companies in
Louisiana. The Wall Street Journal found that some African-Americans
were prevented from voting in -- of all places -- Selma. Boston, too, had its
problems (see "Florichusetts," News and Features, December 8).
In Florida, though, just about every problem you can name had a negative effect
on black voters. And, of course, the margin between Bush and Gore was so
unimaginably thin that even the smallest problems took on outsize
significance.
David Bositis, senior political analyst with the Joint Center for Political and
Economic Studies, a Washington-based think tank that analyzes the black
electorate, speaks of "three inescapable facts": that it was clear, before the
election, that Florida would be pivotal; that the race was extremely close; and
that the outcome would be determined by black turnout. "Given those conditions,
do I think there were some individual decisions made where people on the other
side wanted to discourage blacks from voting? Yeah," Bositis says.
The NAACP has interviewed hundreds of Florida residents who say they were
harassed, intimidated, or otherwise improperly disenfranchised. Both the US
Department of Justice and the federal Commission on Civil Rights are
investigating. We may learn more about exactly what happened in the months to
come, provided Bush's Justice Department sees these probes through to their
conclusions. For the moment, though, three big problems stand out:
* False criminal records. According to a piece published in the Internet
magazine Salon, an effort overseen by Katherine Harris to wipe the names
of felons off the voting rolls was fraught with mistakes. (Florida, like many
states, does not allow most felons to vote, even after their sentences have
been completed.) Early this year, the private company Harris hired to do the
work -- many of whose executives had given large campaign donations to
Republican officials -- labeled 8000 voters as felons even though they were
guilty of nothing worse than a misdemeanor. (Like George Bush and Dick Cheney,
for instance.) The company, ChoicePoint, then sent out a corrected list. But
Salon reported wide variations in the use Florida's counties made of the
information; it appeared that though some ignored both the original and the
corrected lists, others made zealous use of the data, but may have been less
than vigorous in making sure the corrections were entered properly. Worse, the
author of the Salon piece, Gregory Palast, reported in Salon and
in a follow-up in the London Observer (where he's on staff) that at
least 7000 other people, and maybe considerably more, had also lost their
voting rights through ChoicePoint's mistakes. Now, consider that Florida's
felons are disproportionately African-American, and that an estimated 31
percent of the state's black men are already disenfranchised because of their
felony records, and you can see how devastating these mistakes were. The
Miami Herald reported that at least 445 felons illegally cast Florida
ballots. But Palast's findings suggest that many times that number were wrongly
identified as felons and thus prevented from voting.
* Low technology. Florida officials devised a system for dealing with
people whose names did not appear on voting rolls yet who insisted they had
registered: poll workers were equipped with laptop computers so that instant
checks could be made. Trouble is, few of those laptops made their way to
predominantly black precincts. In those places, poll workers were instructed to
call county offices, and were invariably greeted with a busy signal. The
result: prospective voters were told to go home. The Times found that in
Miami-Dade County, which is 20 percent black, laptops were sent to 18 precincts
that were mainly Hispanic (that is, Cuban-American, and thus Republican), three
that were mostly white, and just one that was largely black. In Hillsborough
County, which includes Tampa, none of the 10 laptops went to any of the
majority-black districts. Democratic congressman Alcee Hastings told the
Times, "Is it a racial thing? I don't think so. But is it something that
had a cumulative effect and had an impact on the African-American vote? I think
that's the case."
* Those damn punch cards. Obviously there was no racist intent in the
fact that some votes were cast on outmoded punch-card machines and some on more
modern optical-scanning systems. There was, however, a racially
disproportionate result, owing to the fact that the punch-card machines were
far more likely to be used in black and poor areas. In a statistical analysis
of what a statewide hand count might have revealed, Slate's Jacob
Weisberg reported that 15 out of every 1000 punch-card ballots in those
counties that used the very worst counting machines showed no presidential
choice, and were thus rejected -- yet only three out of every 1000 paper
ballots were rejected by optical scanners. That's pretty hard to explain away,
though some have certainly tried. A particularly lame attempt was made on
December 18 by New York Times columnist William Safire, who wrote,
presumably with a straight face: "Were more ballots of black voters set aside
because of errors in marking? Probably, because a greater percentage were first
voters, and it stands to reason that inexperienced voters of whatever race are
more likely to miscast their ballots." (Let's see, I want to vote for Gore.
That means I punch out the hole for Bush, right?) Nice try. In fact, what
the widely differing rejection rates really show is how ludicrous it was for
the Supreme Court to apply equal-protection standards to the recount, but not
to the votes as they were originally cast.
The Bush political dynasty has always had an uneasy relationship with
African-Americans. On the one hand, they espouse inclusive rhetoric, starting
with the "kinder, gentler" George H.W. Bush, who supported civil-rights
legislation as a Texas congressman and who could never understand his inability
to garner black votes. On the other hand, the Bushes have never hesitated to
use race in order to get what they want. As the New Republic's Franklin
Foer observed in a recent essay, "They're so convinced of their personal
decency that they expect it to trump the deep, long-standing ideological
differences that separate their party from black public opinion."
It was the old man, after all, who was the beneficiary of the infamous Willie
Horton ad. And though he has always insisted his campaign had nothing to do
with it, he never criticized it, either. Florida governor Jeb Bush was elected
in 1998 by reaching out to the black community, which he had spurned in his
unsuccessful '94 race. Yet when black legislators occupied his office to
protest his anti-affirmative-action "One Florida" plan, Bush ordered aides to
"throw their asses out." (The governor later claimed he was referring to
reporters.)
George W. has always talked a good talk when it comes to race, and his
Philadelphia convention was a regular Potemkin Village of diversity. Yet when
he needed to put John McCain away in South Carolina, he didn't hesitate to
appear at Bob Jones University, which had banned interracial dating. And he
looked the other way as the ugly forces he had accepted as his allies made
hateful calls, hinting that the McCains' adopted Bangladeshi daughter was
really the randy senator's illegitimate black love child.
The December 17 Sunday New York Times gave over most of its op-ed page
to a symposium devoted to answering the question CAN BUSH MEND HIS PARTY'S RIFT
WITH BLACK AMERICA? Maybe he can. But by winning through the disenfranchisement
of hundreds or perhaps thousands of black Floridians, Bush has gotten off to
the worst of all possible starts.
"The question is, what do you do about your frustration?" asks Melanie
Campbell, executive director of the National Coalition on Black Civic
Participation, which has just formed a task force to look into electoral
reform. "I don't think people are just going to walk away from this. They are
going to want some redress."
For Campbell, whose bipartisan organization includes members of both the
Democratic and Republican National Committees, such redress would take the form
of a level playing field: getting rid of punch-card systems and establishing
uniform methods of voting and counting across the country.
For many other African-Americans, though, redress isn't going to come until
they have a chance to vote Bush out. Partly by accident, partly by his
eagerness to benefit from an electoral meltdown that hurt black voters more
than it did whites, George W. Bush has emerged as a potent symbol of black
discontent. Already, Jesse Jackson and other black-community leaders are
calling for demonstrations on Inauguration Day. That may be just the
beginning.
It may not be fair, but Bush, the self-styled healer and uniter, the man who
cast himself as the antidote to divisive Republicans such as Newt Gingrich and
Tom DeLay, may turn out to be the most divisive figure of all. And there's not
a thing Colin Powell or Condi Rice can do about it.
Dan Kennedy's work can be accessed from his Web site:
http://www.dankennedy.net
Articles from July 24, 1997 & before can be accessed here