Testing The Waters on Race

By Laurence I. Barrett

Rarely had a consensus congealed so fast among politicians and pundits. In late November it became an insiders' article of faith that George Bush and his party would create a powerful 1992 campaign issue from the resentment of white voters toward programs that seem to benefit minorities unfairly. The main dealer of that racial card was William Bennett, an articulate critic of affirmative-action schemes and Bush's choice to be the new Republican Party chairman. But after a stiff internal debate, the Administration put that strategy on hold. Then Bennett astonished Washington last week with word that he would not become G.O.P. chief after all, ostensibly because of competing professional commitments. Compounding the confusion, the White House professed surprise when a mid-level Education Department official ruled that most college scholarships could no longer be reserved for minority students.

What accounted for this latest display of Oval Office policy juggling? One ingredient is the ongoing conflict between the "kinder, gentler" President Bush, outwardly sympathetic to society's disadvantaged, and the ruthless Candidate Bush, willing to exploit atavistic emotions to gain votes. Another factor is the slippery nature of racial politics, so easy to unleash but so difficult to control. For example, the Education Department's ruling on minority scholarships, which caused consternation in both the White House and the college community, apparently sprouted from a subordinate's overzealous attempt to follow the instincts of Candidate Bush. That misjudgment was understandable, given the atmosphere encouraged by Bennett and other conservatives in the President's entourage.

The Bush Administration's latest attempt to flog the race issue began with the debate over the Civil Rights Act of 1990. Passed last October by congressional Democrats, with the help of some Republicans, the measure was designed to make it easier for women and minorities to combat job discrimination. The bill's supporters insisted its main effect would be to offset damage done to earlier practices by a series of Supreme Court decisions. Bush said he supported that goal but argued that the bill's specific provisions would pressure employers to adopt quotas as a means of avoiding litigation. His position gained traction even though the bill explicitly said nothing in it "shall be construed to require or encourage quotas." When compromise efforts failed, Bush on Oct. 22 vetoed the bill, calling it a "destructive force."

The controversy seeped into the midterm election campaign. In North Carolina, Republican Senator Jesse Helms blatantly played on the insecurity of white voters fearful of unemployment in recessionary times. He won re-election against a strong challenge from black candidate Harvey Gantt.

Enter Bill Bennett, academician, Education Secretary in the Reagan Administration, ex-head of Bush's antidrug program. Like Bush, Bennett had stumped for Helms. In his first statements as the designated G.O.P. chairman, Bennett defended Helms' campaign strategy as "perfectly legitimate." He also criticized affirmative-action programs generally. After all, he had co- authored a 1979 book called Counting by Race, which argued, "Quite simply, numerical equality is an unworthy means for a people dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal."

Bennett then signaled his eagerness to engage the Democrats on the issue if they pressed anew for the civil rights bill. They will; Senator Edward Kennedy and the other leading sponsors plan to reintroduce the measure early in 1991. Bennett was accurately assumed to be speaking for the White House. Thus the near universal belief that the Bush forces were sculpting a new version of Willie Horton, the black killer used in 1988 as a symbol of liberals' softness on crime.

The Horton ploy worked as well as it did because Michael Dukakis responded feebly. Determined to fight back this time, the Democrats began rhetorical carpet bombing a month ago. Virginia Governor Douglas Wilder sent Bush an open letter admonishing him to practice "moral leadership." The ideal of equal opportunity, Wilder said in a message that got wide attention, "is not a political football to be used by our President to appease the Jesse Helmses of this country." House majority leader Richard Gephardt, a possible candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination, placed the Republicans on "a new trail of racial resentment and recrimination blazed by David Duke, then trod successfully by Jesse Helms and now given a tarnished patina of intellectual respectability by William Bennett."

Bush's more moderate advisers, already queasy about Bennett's approach, argued inside the White House that the President's image would suffer. "This is a powder keg," said an official privately. "Somebody is going to read racism into every word you say on this subject. You don't want to do this." While the racial card appeals to some blue-collar and rural whites, it obviously offends many blacks. It also conflicts with the two-year effort by Bush and the departing G.O.P. chairman, Lee Atwater, to woo black voters. Further, the moderate faction agrees with political scientist Larry Sabato of the University of Virginia, who says that "some upscale white suburban voters can easily be repulsed by the Helms approach."

By last Monday, Bennett was saying his earlier remarks had been "overinterpreted." White House aides tried to revise recent history by implying that Bennett had overstated his brief. No decision had been made about politicking on quotas in the future, they maintained. Bennett's withdrawal from the chairmanship was not immediately related to the issue. The main cause was the belated realization by Bennett and White House counsel Boyden Gray that conflicts of interest would be a far more serious problem than earlier thought.

Bennett, eager to enhance his net worth, has a lucrative contract to write two books and a long list of high-paying speaking engagements for business audiences. As a recent incumbent of high federal office, Bennett could face restrictions on activities that might be construed as lobbying. To take plump fees from private industry while enjoying regular access to the Oval Office could easily create the appearance of impropriety. Though the party chairmanship pays $125,000 a year, Bennett said, "I didn't take a vow of poverty."

Still, Bennett was already experiencing friction with his nominal ally, chief of staff John Sununu, over fiscal policy. And the flap over affirmative action indicated that Bennett and the White House might have difficulty collaborating on touchy subjects. In the short run, Bennett's exit, together with the White House's new wariness, will probably cool the racial issue, at least at the national level.

Whether the temperature stays low until the next election is uncertain. One way to help diminish racial anxiety is to show that the government is doing something for workers regardless of ethnic balance. Gephardt and Georgia Senator Sam Nunn have introduced low-budget legislation that would set up a national apprenticeship program. The scheme would serve secondary school students and recent graduates who are not applying for college. But the civil rights bill will not disappear either as a legislative or political issue. When it is debated again, its conservative opponents will doubtless depict it in stark terms: hard quotas, black vs. white. This time out, the measure's supporters will have to make a better case for their position -- that the bill affects women as well as racial groups and that its goal is to create opportunities, not to achieve fixed numerical outcomes.

But even if the debate starts off rationally at the top, some of the G.O.P.'s ideologues may push Bush to politicize it in racial terms. Given the candidate's history of making elasticity an art form, he may bend in their direction again.

With reporting by Michael Duffy/Washington and Joseph J. Kane/Atlanta