“CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA: Joe Biden addresses a rally in Charleston on the eve of a presidential debate for Democratic candidates here.”
By Gail Russell Chaddock
CHARLESTON, S.C. — Whatever the outcome of today’s First in the South Democratic presidential primary, can we all agree to drop the term “firewall” to describe black voters?
Like “crossroads” or “turning point,” it’s a convenient metaphor in political writing — that is, it appears to convey meaning but often does not. Applied to black voters, It’s also inaccurate and likely demeaning,
It’s no secret that Joe Biden is counting on a win in South Carolina’s vote today (Feb. 29) and expects the state’s majority-black primary electorate to ensure it. Black voters account for some 60 percent of Democratic primary voters, up from a record 55 percent when Barack Obama scored a decisive primary win here in 2008. The claim that these voters would be a “firewall” for Obama’s vice president settled into conventional wisdom and Biden campaign talking points.
But after leading the Democratic field for nearly a year by as much as 31 points, Biden’s lead slipped into single digits for much of 2020, until jogging up again this week. Most alarming to the campaign was a 23-point drop in support among black voters, seen as the “firewall” that would guarantee a clear victory here before the race shifts to Super Tuesday states and, often, quick closure on a nominee. A Monmouth poll this week gives Biden a 20 point lead over his nearest rival, Sen. Bernie Sanders.
Still, explanations abound for the volatility in the polling for Biden, such as Biden was a poor candidate, past his time. Outsized early primary wins by rival Bernie Sanders undercut Biden’s claim to be the only candidate who could defeat President Trump. A massive advertising blitz by hedge fund billionaire Tom Steyer shattered records for spending — and was largely directed at black voters. In an interview, last Sunday with CBS’s Meet the Press, Biden said that this drop in support was “the amount of money being spent by the billionaires to try to cut into African American support.”
Addressing students and supporters at the College of Charleston on Feb. 24, Biden revised his standard stump speech, which typically runs through his legislative accomplishments. Instead, he opened with thoughts on white supremacy and race hatred.
“We have to win this election! When in fact all those folks came out of the fields in Charlottesville, Virginia — and close your eyes and remember students, what you saw on that television — you saw people coming out of the fields with lighted torches at night, spewing hate and anti-Semitic bile, accompanied by the white supremacist and Ku Klux Klan and, in fact, when a young woman was killed resisting the hate and [they] asked the president was asked what he thought, he said there were very fine people on both sides. No president has ever said anything like that. We’re in a battle for the soul of America.”
The crowd that gathers to hear Biden is not especially large, nor is it especially black. But over the years, especially in his eight years as vice president in the Obama administration, Biden has been a presence in the state. After a white supremacist killed nine members of the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston on June 17, 2015, Biden attended a Sunday church service at the iconic church. At a town meeting on Wednesday, he recalled the incident and how the decision of church members to forgive the shooter affected him. It’s raw, rambling, and emotional. But for some in the audience, it makes a connection.
Voices at a Biden rally
Charleston retiree Jennifer Ferguson, arriving early for this event in the heart of Charleston’s historic district, appreciates Biden’s warmth and commitment to the black community, as well as his two terms as President Obama’s vice president. She says that she “likes Bernie” but feels that Biden “has already been in the president’s office and you don’t have to teach him. They all talk a good talk but Joe will be the only one to walk the walk.” She calls herself “a Biden girl,” She is worried that President Trump may win a second term and that the party needs to choose someone capable of defeating him. “Typically, this is a Republican state but we pray that Joe can turn it around.”
John C. Godfrey, a former longshoreman injured on the job, is still looking. He likes what he’s heard from Bernie Sanders, especially on improving access to health care. But he doesn’t appreciate what he sees as a refusal by Sanders and his supporters to fully support the Democratic Party and the party’s nominee, Hillary Clinton, in her general election against Donald Trump, when it counted.
“I’m afraid there’s too much resentment about his behavior in the last election when he refused to back the front-runner,” he says. He pays attention to what other Democrats are saying in this race but is still making up his mind on who can be the most effective against President Trump. He is inclined to support Biden but is uneasy with the view that black voters are somehow expected to make sure he is elected.
“I want to be the best at everything that I do and not just be the best black,” he says. Voting is precious. He has known discrimination in his life and says it’s important to get beyond it. “Whenever we discriminate against another we are wasting our most precious human resource,:
Interlude: the Clyburn Endorsement
James Clyburn — the most prominent black leader in South Carolina and the No. 3 ranking Democrat in the US House of Representatives — had promised to delay his endorsement in the Democratic primary until the Friday before Election Day. Instead, he announced his choice — Joe Biden — on Wednesday, just hours before a big Sanders rally in North Charleston. “I know Joe. We know Joe. But most importantly, Joe knows us,” he said.
The reasons for Clyburn’s decision — first to promise to delay an endorsement, then to break that promise — are helpful in understanding how individuals and groups think about black voters.
In making the case for an early primary and national debate in South Carolina, Clyburn told the FiveThirtyEight political podcast that he had promised that he would do nothing to truncate the primary process and that an early endorsement from him might have made the race much less competitive, hence less interesting to debate sponsors. (Why? Because Clyburn’s voice is viewed as so decisive.)
“I made clear to the Democratic National Committee that if they were to select South Carolina as one of the so-called “pre-primary window states” that I would not do anything to undercut the primary in any way or to short-circuit it. They felt that if I were to get out with an early endorsement that other candidates might not come. And then CBS, who was co-sponsoring the debate with the Congressional Black Caucus Institute, also expressed the same concern. So I decided that I would not endorse until Friday.” [emphasis added]
What changed his mind, he said, was a request from an elderly black woman that the race was confusing and that “a lot of people want to hear from you.” Clyburn said that he also had his own concerns that too extreme a nominee could suffer the same fate at the polls as South Dakota Senator George McGovern, who lost to incumbent President Richard Nixon in a landslide, losing 49 of 50 states. “I see developing in this primary much of what I saw back in 1972,” he said. “The country is not going that way.”
Voices at a Sanders Rally
The word that Clyburn had endorsed Biden hadn’t yet registered with the largely youthful crowd that packed into the vast Coliseum in North Charleston on Feb. 26. North Charleston is largely black but you wouldn’t know it from the largely white crowd that waited to cheer Bernie Sanders.
Bernie lost to Hillary Clinton in the last Democratic primary here, largely because of his failure to attract black voters, and he’s been building a presence here ever since.
Elizabeth, who preferred not to give her full name and certainly not be photographed, can’t recall the first Democrat she supported for president, but she lived through the civil rights movement in the ’50s and 60s and treasures the right to vote and the duty of figuring out how to do it well. Despite how difficult it is for her to get around on her own, she is walking through heavy rain to hear Bernie Sanders at the vast Coliseum in North Charleston on Feb. 26.
She has cast many votes in her life but none as important as this one, she says. She has gone to hear nearly all the candidates in person. “I want to support someone who can help me,” she says. “There is just so much that needs fixing in this country right now,”
Would Clyburn’s endorsement make a difference in her decisions on this race? She paused. “I would seriously have to pray on it very hard,” she said.
Nichole McFadden, a black student, says that her mind was made up in 2004 to vote for Bernie. “Bernie has had the same message since 2005. He’s very authentic and genuine.”
His message is the same to this audience as it is was to one in New Hampshire, Iowa, or Nevada. There is intensity, but none of the emotion or pathos that Biden brought to events here.
While she values the views of Clyburn and other Democratic leaders in Washington, who are worried that Bernie’s topping the ticket will hurt Democratic prospects down the line, Young black voters don’t feel like they have to follow the lead of one person anymore, she says. “I think that Bernie would be an asset if they just gave him a chance,” she said.
Jason Glover and Brandon Greene, a fashion designer and a former pastor, say that young black voters, like themselves, are “very pragmatic. It’s life and death for us, and all of the candidates are white and old.” But they are not troubled that Bernie Sanders fits that description and is a “socialist” to boot.
“Dr. King believed in socialism so it’s not scary for us. We see the wealth gap as more important than anything else, They also worry about arrests and long jail sentences for marijuana possession, and. welcome the Sanders pledge to legalize marijuana on Day 1 of his presidency.
They both find the notion that black voters should all back the same candidate as “arrogant.” “It assumes that we’re in the bag for one candidate because he worked for Obama,” says Brandon Greene.
We look at who is going to turn out voters. If they’re not speaking our language, we’re not turning out. People are ignoring the youth vote at their own peril,” he adds.
Why metaphors matter:
I read many accounts of South Carolina’s Democratic primary race before driving 978.2 miles to South Carolina to see it. Everything I read talked about the black voter “firewall.” I talked to lots of voters, some in and around political events, others just walking around. I didn’t find a firewall. Even if every single black voter in South Carolina votes the same way, it doesn’t mean they didn’t think about it — and that thought deserves respect.
Black voters aren’t the only victims of poll-driven generalizations. Remember the “gap” that polls discovered between “married” and “unmarried” women in the 2008 presidential campaign? Married women voted for Mitt Romney, unmarried women voted for Barack Obama. It was one of the most robust “findings” of that race and lead to much speculation about the motives and aspirations of both “groups.” Somehow the fact that nearly a third of unmarried women did not vote for Obama, and nearly half of married women did not vote for Romney got lost in buzz, along with endless speculation on how married women are less vulnerable or more influenced by their husbands and unmarried women are more vulnerable, therefore more eager to back big government.
Black voters are not a monolith. (Neither are Trump voters, but that’s another story.) With apologies to my native state of New Hampshire: the devotion to voting and to earnest thought about how to vote in a presidential primary among those I met here rivals your own. It may even exceed it.
