The Talented Tenth?

With the Democrats' success at the polls in 2006, a fair number of House committees and subcommittees are now led by members of the Congressional Black Caucus. Indeed, I heard it said on the radio today that black members of Congress now have a greater role in the affairs of the Republic than at any time in our history. This can only be to the good.

And yet I can't help but notice the divergent paths forged by the black elite and the bulk of their constituency since the 1960s, when the black vote was freed from Jim Crow and became an electoral force. The census offers a stark tale: over that time, illegitimacy rates have gone from the low 20s to the high 60s; black men are now in prison in far greater numbers than their proportion in society; black poverty rates remain consistently higher than those of whites. The political successes of black candidates - such as in the '06 election - have not, it seems, improved the lot of most of their supporters.

It all returns me to the old argument between Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. DuBois. Washington said the way forward was through self-reliance and industry, and since nothing could be done about white racism and discrimination, it should merely be endured. In the end, he argued, a self-empowered and economically vibrant black community would be the best defense against discrimination, indeed its eventual downfall.

DuBois, on the other hand, argued that Washington was an accommodationist who would do the black community no good. He advocated for a so-called "Talented Tenth" of classically schooled intellectuals who would push for social change, leading the community into the broad uplands of social and legal equality. The rest would follow from that.

In the current political elite we have something of a Tenth (talented or no). What strikes me is not how well they have fostered equality and economic opportunity, but rather how well they have become part of the self-serving establishment. Really, how is a CBC member any different from a conservative white politician who riles up his poor white constituency with wild talk about abortion or gay marriage? The sentiment is the same in both cases: it's about being represented by someone who looks and acts exactly like you. Results are less important than the symbolism of being represented by "one of us." Identity politics.

So I'm left ambivalent about it all. While it's oddly comforting that black politicians have finally reached the same level of do-nothing symbolism and allegiance to the establishment as their white counterparts (what perverse equality!), I don't see how anyone else really benefits from it. But, as always, I'm open to your thoughts on the matter.