(Facing South) -- What does one say at the
funeral of a bigot? Politicians and pundits
have been grappling with that question since
the passing of Sen. Jesse Helms July 4,
and the collective reaction to Helms' death
speaks volumes about the state of race
relations and social progress in our country.
Many in the media -- and the stream of
politicians who lept to praise Helms and his
legacy -- down-played, ignored or even denied
Helms' prejudices; the Wall Street Journal,
always fans of the Senator, resolutely
stated "Helms himself was no racist."
To say Sen. Helms held deep prejudices
against many -- especially African-Americans
and gays and lesbians -- isn't a matter of
opinion; it's all part of the historical
record. As Gary Robertson of the Associated
Press reported,
Helms -- unlike other hold-overs from the
segregationist era -- never changed his views
in opposing civil rights. Up until his last
Senate campaign, stirring up racial division
-- along with homophobia and anti-communism
-- was a centerpiece of Helms' political M.O.
As the quintessentially establishment
columnist David Broder noted
upon Helms' retirement in 2001, the senator
who up into the 1990s was giggling
at the word "nigger" and saying that "homosexuals
are weak, morally sick wretches" was "the
last prominent unabashed white racist
politician in this country."
Tap-dancing around Helms' lingering
prejudices was one of several ways the media
helped perpetuate a mythology of the senator
at odds with his real life and legacy. Here
are two more myths about Helms the media has
relentlessly spread over the last two weeks:
HELMS GOT ELECTED BECAUSE HE WAS A
"STRAIGHT TALKER": One of the media's
favorite myths is that Sen. Helms was voted
to serve as North Carolina's senator for 30
years and drew admiration from certain
quarters around the country because he
"called it like he saw it" -- he didn't mince
words, he was honest about where he stood.
In today's age of poll-driven politics and
talking hair-dos in office, any leader that
speaks with candor and conviction is
certainly refreshing. But it would be a
delusion to think such honesty was the reason
for Helms' popularity.
As Sen. Barack Obama's minister Rev.
Jeremiah Wright learned, "calling it like you
see it" is not always welcomed by the media
and public. Helms' divisive "straight talk"
was popular then -- and praised by some now
-- largely because it tapped into the
resentments and prejudices of the white majority.
And when "honesty" wasn't enough, Helms
was all too willing to resort to bullying and
dirty tricks. In 1996, the
Justice Department famously admonished
Helms for mailing 125,000 fliers to
African-American precincts warning that
voters risked imprisonment if they cast ballots.
At his core, Helms was a shrewd politician
who realized that scapegoating
African-Americans, gays and lesbians, and the
"liberal media" was an effective way to
mobilize his base and present himself -- and
all white voters -- as besieged victims. It's
likely that he believed many of the
reactionary positions he publicly advocated.
But Helms the strategic politician also knew
that by cultivating a straight-talk persona
he could shift attention from the regressive
content of what he was saying to a defense of
his right to "speak his mind" -- but his fans
and voters got the real message.
HELMS WAS A UNIQUE ICONOCLAST:
Another centerpiece of the Helms mythology is
that the North Carolina senator was a
one-of-a-kind politician, the "last of a
dying breed," standing apart from his Senate
colleagues and the march of history.
Helms' antics and positions did on many
occasions put him at the far-right extremes
of political debate. But he was by no means a
marginal, fringe politician, and such a
portrayal ignores Helms' ongoing popularity
and his central role in U.S. politics for
three decades.
For example, the
National Congressional Club -- founded in
1972 to pay off Helms' campaign debt -- was
one of the most powerful vehicles of
Republican power. In the 1980s, the NCC was
the second-largest PAC in the country,
amassing a war chest and creating a political
machine that helped dozens of GOP candidates
win office, including Ronald Reagan.
Helms also had a real base and following.
North Carolina voters put Helms in office for
five terms. Sometimes the margins were small,
but at the end of the day millions of white
voters picked Helms over moderate
alternatives from a white Jim Hunt to a black
Harvey Gantt, tainting North Carolina's image
as a forward-thinking, enlightened state.
Hundreds of donors across the country poured
money into his campaigns; the nearly
$14 million he raised in his 1984 contest
was a record at the time.
Indeed, Helms' influence went beyond North
Carolina. He was a
driving force behind the Republicans'
"Southern Strategy" that consciously used
race and racism to gain power in the South.
Hastings Wyman, who watched Helms' rise while
working as a Republican strategist next door
in South Carolina, honestly reflected on what
Republicans like Sen. Helms and his
compatriot, Sen. Strom Thurmond, were doing
in Alexander Lamis' book, Southern
Politics in the 1990s:
[A] major component of the
Republican resurgence in the Old Confederacy
was a racist reaction to the civil rights
changes that were coming to the South. Not
just a racist reaction that Republicans, in
the right place at the right time, could take
advantage of, but often a reaction
consciously encouraged -- no, fanned -- by
the GOP itself.
Racism, often purposely inflamed by many
southern Republicans, either because we
believed it or because we thought it would
win votes, was a major tool in the building
of the new Republican party in the
South.
It is a deep irony that many of the
political leaders and media commentators who
praise Jesse Helms' "honesty" so readily
trade in myths, rather than facts, in
remembering his political legacy. In a year
when many are wondering whether an
African-American man can win the presidency,
we clearly need more, not less, honesty in
confronting the state of race and social
progress in our country.
LINK: Facing South