Today’s news reports announce that the Supreme Court has struck down section four of the Voting Rights Act on the grounds that its coverage formula, which determines what areas of the country must receive prior approval for any changes in voting laws (most recently revisited by Congress in 1975) is out of date. Of course that’s not the whole story. The court has not ruled narrowly. This decision is an outrageous piece of judicial activism masquerading as something else.
Last evening we watched “Brother Outsider,” the award winning documentary about the life and career of Bayard Rustin. The ten-year-old film is circulating again in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of the 1963 march on Washington, which Rustin organized. The screening was presented by the Missouri History Museum and was attended by a large and diverse crowd. It was good to see such a high level of interest for this classic memoir of the civil rights movement of the 1960s.
Most present-day evocations of the famous march focus on Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, which, though it climaxed the program, was hardly the first event of note or the only speech before the Lincoln memorial that day fifty years ago. One candid moment in “Brother Outsider,” for instance, shows Rustin walking directly behind Bob Dylan and Joan Baez singing Dylan’s “When the Ship comes In.” Rustin is casually smoking a cigarette and seeming not to listen. And what has largely been forgotten about that day is the list of demands that Rustin delivered in a speech that preceded Dr. King’s, along with the fact that the march’s full title was “March on Washington for Jobs & Freedom.” It was the brain child of A. Philip Randolph, but it could never have happened without Rustin. And the presence of both men at the center of it underscores something else we have forgotten as a people: that the civil rights movement was as much about economic justice and equality of access to the goods of our society as it was about ending Jim Crow laws.
And it’s worth noting that even during the program on the mall dissent raged between members of SNCC, particularly John Lewis, and more moderate members of the civil rights coalition over the language of Lewis’s speech. A pretty good short history of the march is here, and here’s the text of the speech that Lewis delivered that day; Lewis’s unedited speech is quoted in in material I have cited previously. Fifty years later, we live in the midst of the resegregation of America. Looking back on the 1963 march, one witness, Evelyn Cunningham, exclaimed:
I must’ve cried for an hour and a half at one point during the march. Part of it was sheer happiness, part of it was pride, and part of it was my family. I’m steeped in my respect for my people. After the march, I thought, ‘Oh my God, we’re almost there’ — God, was I wrong.
If you think resegregation is too strong a word, perhaps you should reflect on the high rate of incarceration among persons of color in this country along with the systematic attack on voting rights being orchestrated through state legislatures by the American Legislative Exchange Council. Resegregation is now widely documented, both in schools and in our civic life. The process is being exacerbated by the growth of income inequality, and Texas is moving a voter suppression measure into place as I write.
The President and many members of Congress have spoken out against the high court’s decision, but I don’t think the present congress will be able to act in support of voting rights. So what I am left with today is a host of memories and a good deal of anger. It was good to relive parts of the civil rights movement last evening in company with many good folk. This morning I have listened to the great Odetta Holmes’s recording of her matchless rendition of “Oh Freedom,” a spiritual that Bayard Rustin also sang beautifully. It would be fine to be able to think that my country has embraced civil rights—pretty to think so, to draw on another memory. No, it would be beautiful. It’s just not true.
Good comment, Dr. Long. I am a real ostrich about learning about these tings, hoping that if don’t look into them I won’t get so upset over them.
Section 4 had a formula that used forty year old data. It was clearly anachronistic and did not apply. The rest of the VRA stands as written. Congress must rewrite Section 4 for modern times. And voting rights activists can use the “preclearance” tool in Section 3 to bring states they feel discriminate in voting under Section 5. They just have to prove their point, something they did not have to do under the original Section 4. What is “wrong-headed” about that?
I think my next blog post answers your question, Henry; though I believe your question is rhetorical.
“Lack of decorum…worse.” Indicates, at least to me, a lack or loss of respect. Is it possible to reach sound decisions when the undertow of disrespect becomes the obvious?
“Rolling one’s eyes” is a sign of disbelief, annoyance, or impatience. I do not know what is meant by “intellectual facility” as it could be applied to a room where the intellect is stimulated??? And you must remember that the nine justices are human beings and subject to emotions. To me a “lack of decorum” would be, say, mumbling while Gindsburg was speaking. And what is a “proper” feeling? A lot of judgemental phrases are being used. And what has Alito’s expressions to do with the decision? Even the reference was from another decision and not that of the VRA!
It was another decision, as I said, Henry. By intellectual facility I mean to refer to the relationship between “facility” and “facile.” i don’t think Alito is a serious thinker, as I think Scalia is, though I don’t agree with Scalia about anything. For the rest, I mean to refer to Alito’s public display of disrespect for his senior colleague, and I do indeed mean to be judgmental. Alito’s behavior was inexcusable. Teenage girls roll their eyes at their mothers (and sometimes get grounded, as they should). Such behavior has no place on the bench of the highest court in the land, or any court for that matter.
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