Bernie Sanders Doesn’t Have a Black Problem—He Has a Pundit Problem
Stop trying to make him racist.
Photo courtesy of Getty
You’ve probably already heard: Bernie Sanders is white. Of course, all of the nationally recognized Democratic primary candidates had this in common, but Bernie’s whiteness—or, more specifically, his perceived appeal to white voters—has been a chief criticism used to undermine the substance of his movement.
Last week, an article by Terrell Jermaine Starr of The Root picked up the mantle. Sanders, Starr claims, has a “black woman problem.”
Starr is one in a long line of writers making this accusation, though he’s one of the first to narrow the criticism to focus on gender (perhaps as an attempt to negatively distinguish the most popular politician in America, among both blacks and non-blacks, from a more centrist contender for the 2020 ticket, former prosecutor Kamala Harris, who received glowing press last week for her Bail Reform bill). In his recent piece, Star argues that Sanders’ inability to develop wide support among black voters in the 2016 primary disqualifies him from consideration for the 2020 presidential ballot. Starr draws particular attention to Sanders’ particular failure to connect with voters in the south, where the large concentration of African Americans in those states played a significant role in his primary loss. This last fact is undisputed.
But the tone of Starr’s critique, and indeed, the critiques of dozens of others who highlight Sanders’ low black voter turnout, goes beyond the uncontroversial observation that his campaign was shortsighted or ineffective in its approach. Rather, the critiques hint at something deeper—something personal and value-laden—and the popularity of these articles indicates a desire to convey something more than the uncomplicated and unchanging fact that Sanders failed to secure the black vote.
Sen. Sanders, Starr writes, did not simply fail to solicit and secure black votes. His supporters—and, by implication, Sanders himself—“refuse to [consider] the voting power of black women.” That Starr chose the word “refuse” is no accident: it suggests he interprets Sanders’ error as reflective of willful indifference rather than mere political error. According to Starr, Sanders is just another out of touch white politician indifferent to the needs of the black community.
Myriad hypotheses have been developed as to why Sanders’ campaign failed in the south, including the theory that Sanders never thought he could win. In mid-2015, Sanders’ name recognition was at a mere 10 percent among the American public. A poll from October 2015 gave him a 13 percent chance of winning the primary compared to Clinton’s 77 percent—odds that did not begin to shift until after the first primary debate. Recall that the results of the Iowa primary contest, in which Sanders forced the closest margin in the history of the Iowa state caucus, came as a surprise. No campaign allocates resources evenly. To mount a 50-state campaign would have seemed a fool’s errand—not to mention a colossal waste of campaign funds. Remember: Sanders’ undergirding goal was always about spreading his democratic Socialist message—not necessarily attaining the presidency. That being the case, Sanders reasonably anticipated that his concession would come long before the March 1st Super Tuesday primary contest that revealed his weakness in southern states.
But Starr never acknowledges this or any alternative theory for Sanders’ campaign strategy. Nor does Starr limit his complaint to Sanders messaging gaffes—gaffes which also dogged Hillary’s 2008 campaign, and from which her 2016 run was not immune. Rather, he paints Sanders as ignorant of the fact that black voters—particularly women—are the most consistent Democratic voting block, and are crucial to the success of the democratic coalition. Starr exploits his readers’ skepticism that a liberal career politician like Sanders could be so ignorant—implying instead cruel apathy toward the needs of black Americans or, at best, a disqualifying level of incompetence. The implication is clear: whether ignorant or indifferent, Bernie Sanders doesn’t care about black people (to paraphrase Kanye West’s famous Bush-era diagnosis).
Starr, referencing his own reporting, writes that Sanders’ senior black staffers referred to Sanders’ top campaign staffers as “white boys” who did not take Super Tuesday seriously, and who “were convinced that fighting for black Southern voters was pretty much a lost cause.” By emphasizing that black staffers (implying all and only black staffers made this observation), Starr distorts Sanders’ failure to campaign sufficiently in the south into something malicious, characterizing it as a decision to neglect black people specifically.
Of course, the majority of voters in the south, as in the rest of the country, are white. Clinton could not have won the southern primaries without swaying the majority of white voters as well. Yes, for historical reasons, the land of Dixie is still home to more black Americans than northern states, but a failure to campaign in the south is better explained by the Sanders campaign’s limited ambition. (Remember, too, that none of Hillary’s much championed victories in the southern primaries manifested as general election wins.)
Contrast Bernie’s lack of a ‘southern strategy’ with Hillary Clinton’s failure to campaign in the Midwest—a significant factor contributing to her crushing general election loss. As lamented as it is in some circles, Clinton’s error is not repeatedly resurrected as evidence of her indifference to Wisconsinites: She is not accused of having a “Midwestern problem.” Admittedly, Clinton is at times criticized for abandoning organized labor, but that sin is more often attributed to her husband and the self-described “New Democrats” who consciously abandoned unions in a bid for center-right votes. According to mainstream Democrats, Clinton is not actively antagonistic toward, or contemptuous of, the people whose votes she did not garner. (At least those within her party—sorry “deplorables.” So why single out Sanders?
At the root of my frustration is the basic illogic of concluding that the demographics of a politician’s supporters, without further evidence, are a proxy for—or worse, proof of—a politician’s personal allegiances. The error is understandable. The Republican Party has, since the 1960s, relied on antipathy toward the Civil Rights Movement and social justice initiatives to form a white, anti-black coalition that receives, at best, 5% of the black vote. It is easy to interpret the black vote as a bellwether of sorts which predicts racial animus. It’s particularly tempting to do so during an election season in which dog whistling was replaced by explicit racial attacks more polarizing than those seen since the days of Bull Connor.