Most of us are by now familiar with Barbara Bush’s
assessment of the situation of poor evacuees from New Orleans
transported to the Astrodome in Houston. Noting on American
Public Media's radio program Marketplace that “so many
of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged
anyway,” the former first lady concluded, with a slight giggle,
that their displacement from their homes “is working very well
for them.” In other words, according to Bush, because there
are only two options for the poor, mostly African-American evacuees
– poverty in New Orleans or life as an displaced person in the
Astrodome – they should be content with, even grateful for, their
changed circumstances.
Bush’s remarks are, as many commentators have remarked,
arrogant, classist, and racist. They are also nothing new.
The sentiment she voices – what we might call the rhetoric of
limited alternatives – has historically marred white Americans’
discourse about African Americans. As it recurs, we discover
whites’ entrenched, troubling assumptions about black Americans
and their place in the nation.
Consider, for example, the arguments of white members
of the American Colonization Society (ACS) in the late 1820s.
Founded in 1816, the ACS, whose predominantly white members included
prominent politicians, slaveholders, and so-called reformers,
proposed that African Americans should be encouraged to emigrate
to a colony in Africa. Not surprisingly, most free blacks
were vehemently opposed to the ACS for a variety of reasons:
they wished to stay in the United States; they suspected that
the removal of free people of color from the nation would shore
up slavery, a belief reinforced by the membership of slaveholders
in the organization; and they resented the racist rhetoric of
the organization, which often portrayed free blacks as an unproductive
or dangerous population who could never coexist peacefully with
whites.
Many African Americans also worried that force or
coercion might be used to remove them from the United States.
John H. Kennedy, the (white) assistant to the ACS corresponding
secretary, responded to these concerns in a series of articles
he wrote for Freedom’s Journal, the first African-American
newspaper, in 1827. The ACS “compels no one to go,” Kennedy
pledged to black readers, “it offers no insult to those who stay,
nor after his arrival on the coast of Africa need any one remain,
unless he find brighter prospects than those he has abandoned.”
A white ACS supporter writing under the name “Wilberforce” similarly
assured Freedom’s Journal’s readers that the ACS uses “no
coercion” toward “free coloured people,” although he mused, “The
poor slaves will, no doubt prefer Liberia to a slave-ship – or
a slave plantation.”
Beneath this formulation – Liberia or slavery –
lie assumptions to which all too many white Americans ascribe.
Whites often present options to people of color based not on what
is good or desirable but simply on what is better than
their current situation. And, of course, it is the oppression
and neglect that these white leaders encourage and perpetuate
that enable the opportunities to remain limited. If, as
Kennedy suggested, there were “brighter prospects” for African
Americans in Liberia, it was because he and other ACS supporters
refused to offer more than restricted possibilities for them in
the United States. As in Barbara Bush’s bifurcated formulation,
one option looks better than the other only because white leaders
actively work against the only moral and positive alternative:
to change government policies and racist institutions that foster
oppression.
Apologists for slavery similarly relied on a rhetoric
of limited alternatives. In the 1839 tract Abolition
a Sedition, New England pamphleteer Calvin Colton considered
whether the “comparative condition” of the “slaves in the
United States” was “an improvement or deterioration” over the
historical situation of “the African race.” His estimation
was that “that portion of the African race to be found in the
United States, are actually better off than they would have been
any where else, in all reasonable probability,” and thus slaves
had no claim to immediate emancipation. Kentucky politician
and slaveholder Henry Clay noted in an 1847 speech the “philanthropic
and consoling reflection, that the moral and physical condition
of the African race in the United States, even in a state of slavery,
is far better than it would have been if their ancestors had never
been brought from their native land.” Again, the limited
alternatives: slavery or life in Africa. Again, the denial
of responsibility for the conditions in Africa to which oppression
in America is favorably compared, although Western exploitation
and colonialism are their root causes.
More recently, opponents of reparations have marshaled
the rhetoric of limited alternatives to silence those who call
for restitution for slavery. In a 2001 interview on his
television program The O’Reilly Factor, Fox News Channel’s
Bill O’Reilly presented the Reverend Al Dixon, an African-American
minister and reparations supporter, with a shocking choice.
After Dixon argued that the hardships faced by African Americans
should not be compared to the experiences of other immigrants
because they “didn’t come here on [their] own,” O’Reilly returned,
“[R]everend, you can go back to Africa if you want to. I
mean, you could go and repatriate back to the continent or anywhere.
Not any country will take U. S. citizens, but African – African
countries will.” In other words, African Americans have
narrow, second-rate options: leave the country or refrain
from pressing their claims in the public sphere.
O’Reilly’s erroneous choice of words – “go back,”
“repatriate” (not expatriate) – reveals another aspect of the
rhetoric of limited alternatives. Like those who believed
in the late 1820s that black Americans would readily abandon America
for Liberia or those who defended slavery by proclaiming African
Americans should compare their lives to those of Africans rather
those of other Americans, O’Reilly intimated that black Americans
are not truly Americans. Barbara Bush did not propose that
African Americans do not belong in the United States, but her
glib formulation minimized their displacement, suggesting that
those evacuated to the Superdome would have no problem with their
new situation because they have no “real” homes. Just as
many in the media initially referred to the evacuees from New
Orleans as “refugees,” a term that insinuated that they were foreigners,
Bush revealed her view that African Americans are, in effect,
without a permanent place in the nation.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, as many have
aptly noted, Americans find ourselves faced with the consequences
of our nation’s racism and classism. The arrogance of the
powerful and privileged in the face of the oppression and poverty
of people of color is exposed. In her reliance on the rhetoric
of limited alternatives, Barbara Bush has revealed the nature
of the choices white Americans have, throughout our nation’s history,
offered to African Americans, with varying degrees of coercion,
options that at best deny and at worst perpetuate the realities
of oppression and racism. Unless we expand these narrow
formulations, challenge those who present them, and seek true
alternatives, no truly “brighter prospects” can be forthcoming.
Jacqueline Bacon is
the author of The Humblest
May Stand Forth: Rhetoric, Empowerment and Abolition (University
of South Carolina Press, 2002) and has written articles on the
media and African-American history for various periodicals. Her
website is www.jacquelinebacon.com.