But once one gets beyond some complicated feelings about Jackson and about Jackson’s personal crisis, the fact remains that it is just that: a personal crisis. It has no significant, larger ramifications. The reason why has a lot to do with what it means to be a “black leader” in America.
I sometimes cringe when I hear the term; it is a singularly odd title. There is no comparable status of white leader (unless one means people such as David Duke, the onetime Ku Klux Klan grand wizard who won the majority of the white vote in 1991 when he ran for governor of Louisiana). For no one in his right mind would assume that one person represents all (or even most) whites. But that seems not to be the case with blacks. Therefore, when a prominent black leader does something idiotic or embarrassing, there is this assumption that a kind of collective suffering results, or that the black cause may be threatened.
It’s necessary to remember, first of all, that no one elects black leaders–though elected officials, or others in prominent positions, are often declared to be black leaders. (Jackson, arguably the most prominent one, is a preacher without a church and a politician with dominion over no body politic. And Colin Powell has managed to avoid the black-leader trap since he cannot conceivably be said to represent a black constituency.) Black leaders are, for the most part, anointed by the television and the press, selected largely for their ability at sound bites. The ideal candidate combines the qualities of a rap star, stand-up comic and self-righteous zealot. The selection process is largely indifferent to substance (moral or otherwise). Instead, it is driven by the media’s need for easily identifiable, provocative spokespersons to trot out whenever “black” issues arise. It favors those like Louis Farrakhan who can get people’s blood boiling with a phrase. And because the perceived value of such people is as symbolic stand-ins for a presumably monolithic black America, they are rarely paid much attention when they speak on issues other than race. Jackson, despite his efforts to forge a “rainbow” coalition that transcends race, is rarely identified as merely an American leader, or even as a religious or moral leader. Before engaging in morally questionable acts, how many individuals, black or white, ask themselves, “Is this what the Reverend Jackson would do?” Not very many. That is not his given role.
Jackson is among the few voices allowed to speak to a large audience about issues of civil rights, discrimination and access to opportunities–issues that many blacks are particularly passionate about. Because those voices are the only game in town, they are given considerable slack; mindful of the limited arena they are allowed to address, many of their supposed constituents are extremely reluctant to condemn them for failings in another (say, private) arena.
Given that blacks suffered greatly and collectively because of discriminatory treatment, it’s hardly remarkable that blacks, collectively, oppose policies that invite a return to such treatment. But that certainly doesn’t mean that blacks are lemmings in thrall to clay-footed messiahs.
One day, perhaps, Americans will mature to the point that the whole concept of a black leader becomes obsolete. Perhaps a new generation will reject the idea of a black Caesar, realizing that one person can no more represent the hopes and aspirations of all blacks than one leader can represent whites in all matters of public consequence. But since that day is not yet at hand, questions inevitably arise about the viability of black leadership whenever one publicly stumbles. Well, those concerned need not worry. For even if the most recent revelations turn Jesse Jackson into a pariah (and that seems unlikely), the post of high black leader will not go unfilled. There are any number of people capable of giving voice to dreams particularly precious to blacks–including the dream that America become so enlightened that black leaders will be out of a job.
