The Exercise of Power

When Rep. Xavier Becerra (D-Los Angeles) called for a halt to construction of the North Hollywood subway line and threatened to cut off federal funding for the Metropolitan Transportation Authority unless the Eastside’s transportation needs got more attention from the transit agency, he was flexing new-found Latino political muscle. He also was practicing an old brand of “us vs. them” minority politics.

Assembly Speaker Antonio Villaraigosa’s handling of Proposition 227, which would, in effect, end bilingual education, illustrates a different style of leadership. Rather than resort to a race-based defense of bilingual education--a self-defeating strategy, judging by the outcomes of campaigns against Propositions 187 and 209--the speaker has sought to defeat the initiative by advocating legislative reform of the state’s bilingual programs, thus blunting the more strident criticism of the teaching method. “No matter how righteous our cause, we’ve got to talk to everyone else, to take into account the Californians who disagree with us,” he says of the fight over bilingual education. Villaraigosa has even defended the initiative’s sponsor, Ron Unz, from charges of racism.

As Latino political power in California grows, Becerra and Villaraigosa represent two styles of Latino leadership. A generation ago, Latinos were a minority with little or no political clout. Their politics was mainly old-fashioned activism: outsiders applying pressure on decision-makers. Today, a growing electorate and a critical mass of elected officials have given Latino politicians unprecedented influence in California politics. Yet, some Latino leaders are struggling to reconcile their previous roles as activists with their current positions as powerful insiders. Even some of the most influential Latino lawmakers act, in the words of one observer, like rebels sitting on top of the fort. Others, however, are beginning to feel their clout and are confident enough to shed their former defensiveness and distrust and practice a more affirmative style of leadership. The controversy over the MTA’s recovery plan and funding helps to highlight the two styles.

Becerra and Supervisor Gloria Molina, his ally on the MTA board, certainly were justified in lambasting a recovery plan that promised little in the way of improving public transit in East L.A., even though Eastside residents had contributed their fair share of taxes to the agency’s rail projects. They also were suitably angry at Supervisor Zev Yaroslovsky’s proposed ballot initiative that would prohibit the use of county transit-tax money for any future subway extensions, including one planned for the Eastside. And, most important, MTA’s acting chief, Julian Burke, did redraft the MTA plan to accommodate some of their demands.

So did the “us vs. them” strategy work? As it turns out, the Becerra-Molina effort to circle the wagons around the Eastside and rely solely on the political support of Latino colleagues at the local, state and federal levels nearly killed any possibility of future federal transit funding for East L.A.

Rep. Julian C. Dixon (D-Los Angeles), whose Mid-City district will suffer a delay in transit improvements under the revised MTA recovery plan and lose a proposed subway line if Yaroslovsky’s initiative passes, offered Eastside legislators a strategy to assure future federal funding for their and his projects. Dixon, a ranking member of the House Appropriations Committee and one of the MTA’s most important congressional backers, said he would amend legislation to give the MTA greater flexibility in spending $600 million in federal funds in the two areas over the next six years. He reasoned that the current law, which mandates that federal funds must go toward construction of a subway, had to be changed in light of the MTA’s scaled-down recovery plan and the specter of Yaroslovsky’s proposed initiative.

But fearful of entering into agreements with Dixon and Burke and of abandoning the federal guarantee of subway money, Becerra, Molina and Rep. Esteban Edward Torres (D-Pico Rivera) balked at Dixon’s proposal. Rep. Lucille Roybal-Allard (D-Los Angeles) then undertook an effort to draft “flexibility language” with Dixon in hopes of persuading her Eastside colleagues to come on board. She reasoned that linking the fates of the Eastside and Mid-City projects gave Eastside lawmakers’ greater clout. Roybal-Allard’s willingness to work with Dixon ultimately paid off when it became clear that Congress would soon act on the multibillion-dollar transportation funding bill and that the Becerra-Molina strategy might mean that the Eastside would receive no transit money until after 2004.

The benefits of Latino colleagues working closely together and unifying on an issue affecting their mostly Latino constituents are indisputable. But as the MTA case shows, alliances with non--Latino officials may be just as promising. In many ways, they are a better indicator of growing Latino political strength than the inflexible strategies of solidarity.

Too often coalition building is seen as a way for powerless groups to gain influence. The opposite is closer to the truth: It is practiced by members of groups strong enough to take risks and court potential allies. Psychologist Abraham Maslow, whose theories on human motivation have sometimes been adapted to politics, believed that a person’s basic needs must first be met before fruitful relationships can be formed. Similarly, groups with common interests--ethnic or otherwise--must first feel secure with their status before they can forge alliances with other groups.

Villaraigosa’s style of leadership illustrates the point. Once a Molina protege, Villaraigosa has acquired and exercised his authority as speaker through alliances that stretch across ethnic and ideological lines. Once a militant Chicano activist, he now claims to eschew sectarian politics. “We’re not going to let anybody marginalize us, but it’s important that we [Latinos] don’t marginalize ourselves.”

You might say that nothing less should be expected of the speaker of the Assembly, whose job requires him to be a leader of all Californians, not just any one district or ethnic group. But even when issues of special concern to Latinos come up, Villaraigosa’s vantage point is that of a statewide leader. There is a historical precedent for his brand of ethnic-American politics.

When Irish-American Al Smith became speaker of New York’s legislature, then governor of the state in the 1910s, both he and Irish-controlled Tammany Hall, the powerful Manhattan Democratic Party organization, agreed that he had to become much more than just a Tammany politician. While never forgetting his ethnic base of support, Smith broadened his outlook and became more politically independent, seeking allies in all corners of the state. As a Democratic governor working with Republican-controlled legislatures, Smith still managed to win legislation for better housing, children’s welfare and better factory conditions that helped working-class New Yorkers, including considerable numbers of Irish Americans. One might even say that Smith accomplished more for Irish Americans as governor precisely because he refused to be pigeon-holed as an Irish machine politician.

Villaraigosa’s speakership has the potential of accomplishing for California and Latinos what Smith did for Irish Americans and New York. Smith’s ascendance to statewide office helped eradicate the distinction that existed between Irish Americans and Americans earlier this century. As speaker, Villaraigosa could further promote the unifying idea that Latino and California issues are one and the same.

There is also a practical side to Villaraigosa’s approach: The Latino political establishment doesn’t have the ethnic economic clout that would enable Latinos to forego multiethnic alliances. Most prominent Latino officials, including Villaraigosa and Becerra, are elected with the help of considerable financial and political support from non-Latinos. Thus, political and economic reality should motivate them to take a broader perspective.

But California’s changing demographics may ultimately put the final nail in the coffin of the old-style minority “us vs. them” politics. Demographers say that in the near future no one group will enjoy majority status. If true, a strict us.-vs. them politics could create permanent political gridlock. Villaraigosa’s coalition politics offers a way around this. Racialized politics, he says, is a “losing politics.” “There’s no win-win situations and, in the end, we don’t have the numbers to deliver.”

Robert F. Kennedy once remarked that power was sobering. Now that Latino officials are exercising more of it, they’re having to reassess their strength and decide how and to what end they intend to use it.