Somewhat Short Of The Second Coming

It was the weekend after the national election, and I knew the ride would do me good. My mood was as murky as the smog that on the previous Tuesday had shifted from Los Angeles to Washington. The coastline between Ventura and Santa Barbara is not the most picturesque in California, but it sure beats anything in eastern Michigan. For one thing, the Pacific Ocean is not a lake, and for another, the solid citizens who captain industry out here have not yet succeeded in killing the ocean. Even when the sky is an ominous gray and thin wisps of fog play hide-and-seek with the headlamps, the coastline provides a striking backdrop for some intermittent reflection on current events. I confess I didn't get the same charge watching Lake Erie die.

My reverie was interrupted by the bumper sticker which read, "Hang in there, America, the Republicans are coming." I managed a smile, and as I pulled alongside a prim Honda four-door sedan, I thought I saw an equally proper driver whose firm, two-fisted grip of the wheel symbolized the new posture her party had assumed three days earlier.

They had arrived--at long last--after Goldwater, Agnew, Nixon, Ford, et. al., and if the victory was somewhat short of the second coming, it was nevertheless impressive. Watching the hoopla of inauguration, I felt my usual pang of joy at the triumph of the American dream. I may be black, and my boyhood naiveté may have suffered considerable refinement over the years, but I'd like very much to believe in those old dreams--even the one about any boy growing up to be president. After all, Ronald Reagan is as close to any boy as we're going to get.

For many Americans this is a good time for dreams. Reagan is in the White House because he was able to persuade a majority of the voters that it's a good thing to dream when you're feelin' blue. With considerable charm and a silken-smooth style, the old man has called up visions of the good ol' days when the pioneers lumbered across the prairies and the good guys in blue coats chased the Indians off the land. Reagan's dream machine has given us visions of John Wayne alive and well and in charge of the Pentagon. Shades of reconstruction--let's get those black folks back to the cotton patch, the homosexuals into their closets, and women into their kitchens. As heralded by those who package dreams, this one is called a "New Beginning."

Granted, my sentiment reveals gross over-simplification and personal paranoia. But there is every reason for black people in general to be concerned about this administration. For one thing, as in Nixon's case, the Reagan people are an elitist crowd who know that black people voted for the other party. They can be expected to make decisions accordingly, even if they eschew the crass language of a John Mitchell. Millionaires rarely govern in the interests of all the people.

A further reason for black uneasiness over the "New Beginning" is its relationship to a national mood. Reagan came to power in a different time frame than any of his predecessors. He inherited the flowering of a movement of unrest in which, over the past decade, Americans have become increasingly restive about themselves and their place in the world. It is not simply a matter of Vietnam, nor the shame occasioned by Watergate. Rather, it is the growing sense that America is adrift, out of focus, and unable to cope with a rapidly changing world.

All of this climaxed during the Carter presidency and centered on issues ranging from the Panama Canal to the hostages in Iran. Weary of Khomeini's coup, shocked by our inability to prevent Russian encroachments into the Middle East by way of Afghanistan, chafing over the oil squeeze by OPEC, and confronted by a dwindling capacity to compete on the world market, Americans sent a clear message to the politicians: "Get this nation under control and in charge of its own destiny, and do it now."

This assertive mood on the part of the population has not gone unheeded. It constitutes the mandate which Reagan has translated into policy. On the surface, it is not only significant in its timing but also understandable. The country is out of focus and has lost a great deal of its leadership clout in the world community. The middle class feels squeezed, if not screwed, and perceives its situation in far more precarious terms than do the poor. Thus the stage is set.

But the steps being taken to reverse this slide to mediocrity should cause black people great concern. To accomplish this turnaround, the administration has felt it necessary to scrap the Carter emphasis on human rights. The reason is simple--the Carter policy didn't work, although it might have had some moral effect in support of human rights movements at home and in the Third World. In the thinking of U.N. Ambassador Jeane Kirkpatrick, it didn't work because it frustrated the best interests of the United States. Accordingly, the pendulum in American foreign policy has swung toward support for those favored dictatorships and autocracies whose "stable" regimes create a climate conducive to American military and economic interests. Human rights, if served at all, are left to those "traditional autocrats" whose systems can hopefully evolve into more democratic forms of social life and government. This is frightfully naive, as any citizen of Latin America can testify.

With the shift from human rights to national interest, there comes, quite predictably, a resurrection of the CIA and other agencies charged with providing the support for what Frank J. Donner calls "the intimidating impact of surveillance." This system was well-tested during the Hoover years and now includes military intelligence and the IRS. The targets of this system of snooping are those persons and groups who argue for basic change in society. They are usually labeled "subversive" and married off to our fear of communist infiltration in the Western hemisphere. Once this specter is raised, any political spying is legitimated. Prying becomes a matter of national defense, and citizen rights of dissent are thwarted. One only need reflect on the inability of dissident movements to effect substantive change to realize how effective this intelligence intimidation can be.

This renewed legitimation of the intelligence mechanism is especially ominous in a time of economic pressure. The country is run by the best politicians money can buy, and the stability of the political system is crucial to any possible economic recovery. The temptation to ensure such stability on behalf of the rich and powerful at the expense of basic freedom has not always been successfully resisted. Indeed, Nixon and his criminals turned it into a national virtue. Black people, who tend to suffer most from an economic crisis, tend also to be in the front line of protest against the system. They are, therefore, prime targets for surveillance.

The new push for respectability abroad and the passion for unity and prosperity at home are tied together by a stepped-up anticommunist crusade. In this regard it doesn't hurt to have a general for secretary for state. After all, if you're going to find communists behind every citizen revolt in the world you're going to need to choose between guns and butter--margarine really, since the folks who pay for all this hardware have been without the good stuff for years.

But black people, who already know about terror at the end of a gun barrel, also know that an armament crusade launched by the American majority will once again mortgage their hopes for a decent life. They also know that generals will find a way, a place, to test new weapons--and that black sons will likely be the fodder for the cannons. That is why many of us listen very skeptically when Reagan, Baker, Haig, et. al. assure us that those American advisers in El Salvador are not indicative of any major U.S. military involvement. There goes the neighborhood.

By most estimates, President Reagan's attack on grievous domestic and foreign affairs constitutes the biggest political gamble in recent American history. The stakes are enormously high--prestige abroad, influence among emerging undeclared nations, and more importantly, stability among a restless population at home. If Reagan can stimulate the economy without jeopardizing the rising tide of legitimate dissent among the poor and powerless, he will have served his country well. It will take some doing.

His speech before the NAACP convention in Denver two months ago gave little indication that he knew the gravity of the situation. To declare that the health of the nation's economy is "what really determines the income and financial health of blacks" is lofty rhetoric. Black people have always understood the absurdity of such an equation, and what bothers them is that Mr. Reagan seems to be ignorant of the history that makes it so. Does he really believe that black people prefer government "subsidies" to full employment? Where was the man during the '60s? What did he think all those marches for civil rights were about--dropping out of the system?

But the real tip-off to the administration's mentality is revealed in the president's attraction to the word "demagogue." He has said people who accuse his economic proposals of being discriminatory are either "ignorant of the facts or those who are practicing, for political reasons, pure demagoguery." Reagan's economic recovery plan is being cast in the category of a moral crusade, and the president is determined not to surrender this "moral high ground" to those who want a continuation of federal programs.

But what kind of morality is it that cuts off economic aid to children in favor of lucrative expense contracts for the military? What kind of morality is being displayed when one of the administration's top servant's solution to crime is to request $6.5 billion for prison construction? This request, along with Reagan's $1.5 trillion commitment to "defense," is likely to turn arms manufacture and prison construction into this country's leading growth industries.

Both of these "programs" have the net effect of denying black America a decent shot at economic well-being. If black people are to participate, they must first survive: They must eat, work, have homes, and be able to vote--all that old-fashioned Fourth of July stuff. For a president to suggest that those are not the goals of us black Americans is an insult. And then to set about to make these goals even more inaccessible by government fiat is flagrant indifference.

Black Christians are praying for the president. Throughout our incarceration in white America, we have known that the people who run this system need prayer. There has been a moral ambivalence in the culture from the beginning and most especially when politicians launch moral crusades. To black people the politician who claims his programs are on high moral ground is dangerously close to something like the used car salesman who calls himself Honest John. Let us pray!

William Pannell was a Sojourners contributing editor and an associate professor of evangelism at Fuller Seminary in Pasadena, California when this article appeared.