Black Power Threatened

Tuesday, voters in the 9th Congressional District will go to the polls in a special election to replace veteran Rep. Ronald V. Dellums (D-Oakland), who resigned in February. If, as expected, state Sen. Barbara Lee (D-Oakland) wins the East Bay seat, her departure from the Legislature will leave no African American state lawmakers north of L.A.’s Sunset Boulevard.

This geographical glitch probably won’t last long. One of the front-runners to replace Lee is Keith Carson, an African American and Alameda County supervisor endorsed by Dellums, Lee and San Francisco Mayor Willie L. Brown. Nonetheless, an absence, even if transitory, of African American representation in a crucible of black political power is astounding. Yet, the 9th may be a snapshot of a larger statewide trend.

Change, both demographic and political, threatens the political clout of black Californians. Latinos’ share of the state’s population has grown from 12%, in 1970, to almost 30%, in the mid-’90s. The percentage of Asians has risen, too, from 3.2% to about 10%. The percentage of African Americans, by contrast, has remained nearly static, at roughly 7%. As blacks move up the socioeconomic ladder, says Lorn Foster, an urban politics professor, “they become more diffused . . . ‘Buppies’ move farther and farther out” from urban centers, thereby diluting black voting power.

The impact of these demographic realities has been heightened by political shifts. The most obvious threat to black clout is reapportionment after the 2000 Census. Population-growth patterns make it inevitable that electoral clout will accrue to Latinos at the expense of African Americans.

Already, several “black” districts are becoming increasingly Latino. According to the California Target Book, the 48th and 52nd Assembly districts, which both elected African Americans in 1996, have Latino populations of 52% and 49%, respectively. But Latino registration is only 8% in the 48th and 14% in the 52nd. As Latinos’ electoral participation catches up with their population numbers, they will effectively contest the heart of black political power in California.

After surveying ethnic officeholders several years ago, political scientist Fernando J. Guerra observed: “Incumbency provides protection beyond ethnicity once a position is captured.” No more. Term limits have altered the dynamic, and that has handicapped blacks, at least in the short run.

Term limits were touted as the most effective means of breaking the stranglehold of long-serving, entrenched incumbents, disproportionately white males, on the legislative process and opening it up to underrepresented minorities. Yet, the representation of African Americans in the Legislature actually decreased after the 1996 elections, the first wave of term-limited departures.

African Americans picked up the 9th state Senate District when Lee replaced state Sen. Nicholas C. Petris (D-Oakland), termed-out after holding this minority-based seat for 30 years. But Lee’s Assembly seat, which, the Target Book points out, had been represented by an African American Democrat since the 1940s, was won by Don Perata, an Anglo who had served on the Alameda County Board of Supervisors.

The neighboring 14th Assembly District seat was vacated by term-limited Berkeley Assemblyman Tom Bates. According to the Target Book, the state Supreme Court Masters who redistricted the state after the 1990 Census “placed Richmond in this district in an effort to increase its African American and minority population.” Although the district is nearly 30% black, “when the seat became open in 1996 . . . no black candidate filed for the office.” Dion Aroner, a Bates aide, won and is now a strong contender to replace Lee in the state Senate.

Also in 1996, Assemblywoman Juanita Millender-McDonald beat her 1998 term limit by running successfully to replace Rep. Walter R. Tucker III, convicted of bribery charges. She was replaced by an Anglo, former Assemblyman Dick Floyd, who defeated McDonald’s son in the primary to go on to win her Compton-area seat. Floyd’s name recognition and vast network of contacts simply transcended race.

The early impact of term limits on African American clout can be seen clearly in the 13th Assembly District, which encompasses the eastern part of San Francisco. Its population is only 14% black, but, for 32 years, this multiethnic seat was held by an African American, former Assembly Speaker Brown. Brown thwarted his term limit by winning the mayor’s office in 1995. He was replaced in the Assembly by San Francisco County Supervisor Carole Migden, who won a March 1996 special election. She was the only candidate on the ballot. No African American even filed for the seat. Migden was unopposed again in the November general election.

Assemblyman Kevin Murray, the chair of the Black Legislative Caucus, insists any setback is only temporary. “As the effect of term limits cycles through,” the trend in black legislative representation “won’t be negative. . . . [T]erm limits will also force us to attract black candidates for nonblack seats.”

Murray’s comment underscores the importance of recruitment networks to the emergence of minority officeholders, and the role leadership plays in recruiting strong candidates. Latinos in the Legislature look to Senate Majority Leader Richard G. Polanco (D-L.A.) and Assembly Speaker Antonio Villaraigosa (D-L.A.). There are no corresponding political figures for blacks.

It is telling, furthermore, that there are four Latinos among the top contenders for major-party nominations for statewide office (another is running for the nonpartisan post of Superintendent of Public Instruction), but there is not a single African American in real contention.

Last month, Tom Bradley, the first African American mayor of Los Angeles, was paraded before the California Democratic Party convention as an icon of the party’s past. His nomination as the Democratic candidate for governor in 1982 was the high-water mark of black political potential. At the same session, Latino leader after Latino leader, including Democratic State Chair Art Torres and Speaker Villaraigosa, took the stage to celebrate the party’s future. One African American delegate surveyed the scene and mused, in frustration, “We led the way; we taught you how to do it. Now you want to disenfranchise us.”

In the past, black political power largely has been a function of district “franchises”--legislative seats guaranteed to elect African Americans. That reality is changing. Assemblyman Murray pinpointed the new reality. “The way Latinos got power,” he insisted, “is not by population but by running good candidates in non-Latino seats.”

Certainly, demographic shifts have threatened African American electoral strength. But clout need not be forfeited. The ability to field candidates, like Bradley, who can appeal to voters beyond demographics and to maximize the influence of African Americans in competitive seats can--and will--redefine black political power.