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<text id=93TT0134>
<title>
July 12, 1993: Snakes or Ladders?
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
July 12, 1993 Reno:The Real Thing
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
POLITICS, Page 30
Snakes or Ladders
</hdr>
<body>
<p>A controversial Supreme Court decision on racial redistricting
uncovers a can of worms. Or is it a string of pearls?
</p>
<p>By DAVID VAN BIEMA--With reporting by Wendy Cole/New York and Michael Riley/Atlanta
</p>
<p> There can be no doubt as to what sort of beast North Carolina's
12th District is. It ambles crookedly from the textile mills
of Gastonia to the skyscrapered banking district of Charlotte,
through Lexington's furniture factories, picking up a voter
or 10 on its way between Greensboro's downtown and Burlington's
outlet malls; onward, ever onward, until it comes to rest 160
miles later among the black neigh borhoods of Durham. It is
narrow, as narrow in some spots as one lane of the I-85 Interstate
highway. Its friends call it "a string of pearls." Most people
settle for "snake" or "worm." But what it is, obviously and
manifestly, is a gerrymander.
</p>
<p> But it is a noble gerrymander, whose existence has given North
Carolina one of its first black members of Congress in this
century. At least that was the assumption until last week, when
a divided Supreme Court declared that the creature could well
be unconstitutional. Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, writing for
a 5-to-4 majority, not only swatted the squiggly district; she
moved on to question the mechanism that created it, an important
part of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Her ruling reopened a
national debate on whether drawing congressional districts along
racial lines is a laudable way to ensure a ladder for shut-out
minorities--or a step toward a dangerous Balkanization of
American politics.
</p>
<p> The phrase gerrymander, coined in the early 1800s to describe
a salamander-shaped district engineered by MassachuGovernor
Elbridge Gerry, originally referred to an amphibian of convenience,
the creature of whichever self-serving pol was carving up the
turf. Such shenanigans have generally been deemed dubious because
American democracy is based on the premise that legislators
are elected to represent geographic regions and communities--diverse constituencies that share sewer systems and schools
and workplaces--rather than a specific ethnic group, economic
class or partisan faction. Circles and squares were fine; snakes
and salamanders and inkblots tended to be perversions committed
for political gain.
</p>
<p> It took the Voting Rights Act to suggest the possibility of
a "good" gerrymander. The act's 1982 revision and related court
rulings required states with histories of racial discrimination
to draw up districts where minority candidates would have a
viable chance of being elected. Resulting jurisdictions with
built-in black majorities came to be called "majority-minority"
districts. More than a dozen new majority-minority seats were
born in the South. Because of the redistricting based on the
1990 census, the number of black and Hispanic representatives
in Congress rose from 36 to a politically potent 56 last year.
</p>
<p> Many of the new districts, created with the help of computers,
looked strange but possessed some geographic integrity. Not
so the North Carolina 12th. The meandering serpent represents
not just an attempt to concentrate black voters but also a bit
of traditional gerrymandering, as the Democratic state legislature
strove to avoid siphoning away too many black Democrats from
incumbents in adjoining districts. The resulting line segment
cleaves so closely to the Interstate that state representative
Mickey Michaux, who is black, jokes, "You could drive down I-85
with both doors open and kill everybody in the district." Alive
and voting last year, they put Mel Watt, a black Democrat, in
Congress.
</p>
<p> It was the grotesque shape of the 12th District that most offended
the Supreme Court's majority. "Appearances do matter," Justice
O'Connor wrote, praising "compactness, contiguity, and respect
for political subdivisions." And if the court had limited itself
to a slap at the aesthetic excess of one bizarre district, the
furor would have been minimal. Instead, however, it questioned
the entire premise of racially motivated gerrymandering. The
five white voters who brought the case, O'Connor wrote, were
properly offended by a redistricting that "can be viewed only
as an effort to segregate the races for purposes of voting."
She warned that "racial gerrymandering, even for remedial purposes,
may Balkanize us into competing racial factions." Continuing
to spin the globe in search of metaphors, she added, "A reapportionment
plan that includes in one district individuals who belong to
the same race, but who are otherwise widely separated by geographical
and political boundaries, and who may have little in common
with one another but the color of their skin, bears an uncomfortable
resemblance to political apartheid."
</p>
<p> O'Connor granted that "race-conscious state decision making"
should not be impermissible "in all circumstances." But she
suggested that if racial considerations were a district's only
reason for being, the damage done to the district's white voters
under the Constitution's equal-protection clause might outweigh
any good. The court remanded the case to the North Carolina
district court for "close scrutiny" to determine whether a "compelling
governmental interest" was served that would outweigh the injustice.
</p>
<p> As liberal circles erupted in protest, other gerrymanders underwent
existentialist spasms. Of these, the most endangered may be
the Louisiana Fourth. Says lawyer Paul Hurd, who represents
a group of voters who have challenged the district in federal
court: "If you look up bizarre in Webster's, you'd find a picture
of this district." Four hundred miles long, and only 80 ft.
wide at its narrowest, it loops from the state's extreme northwest
corner along its northern border, then sends several fingers
far south in search of the minority vote. Cleo Fields, the Democrat
who won the district in 1992 and is now Washington's youngest
Congressman, notes that his voters have more than color in common;
they have poverty too, and are a valid constituency. But the
Fourth's challengers see it as the product of an unholy compromise
between blacks and Republicans in the state legislature, benefiting
both at the expense of white Democratic incumbents. A three-judge
panel of a federal district court in Shreveport heard the case
in August, but delayed its decision--perhaps awaiting last
week's high-court ruling.
</p>
<p> Congresswoman Cyn thia McKinney of Georgia makes a fierce defense
of her 11th District, whose 250-mile length includes middle-class
black suburbs in south DeKalb County, central Georgia's farms
and the inner cities of Savannah and Augusta. McKinney does
not claim that her constituents' needs are of a piece; she says
that with seats on both the House's Foreign Affairs and Agriculture
committees, she can look out for export as well as farm policy,
and "pull urban, suburban and rural together." She hints that
the fact that the district unites the black minority should
be sufficient: of those who would use the high-court decision
to challenge her, she says, "Some of us in Georgia are still
fighting the Civil War."
</p>
<p> Back in North Carolina, there are people who believe that the
now infamous 12th will clear O'Connor's test of "close scrutiny"
when the case comes home. Shape notwithstanding, it is the state's
only urban district: 80% of its constituents live in towns of
more than 20,000. Ted Arrington, a political science professor
at the University of North Carolina-Charlotte, notes of its
voters, "They have the same kind of neighborhoods--read decaying;
they have the same kind of education problems--read poor schools;
and the same economic concerns--read no jobs. These areas
do have an enormous commonality of interests."
</p>
<p> Eventually, as more challenges to oddly shaped districts accrue
and are appealed to the Supreme Court, it may be possible to
know whether O'Connor, as the liberals fear, was really preparing
the ground for an all-out attack on racially motivated redistricting.
Certainly her decision comes at a moment when traditional conservative
complaints about majority-minority districting are being joined
by voices on the left. None other than Lani Guinier, Clinton's
discarded nominee for assistant Attorney General, wrote that
they may merely serve the end of "isolating black constituents
from the white majority, from other blacks who do not reside
in the district and from potential legislative allies." Says
Carol Swain, a political science professor at Princeton: "The
court made the right decision for the wrong reasons."
</p>
<p> Both supporters and opponents of O'Connor's decision see it
as consistent with the conservative conception of a "color-blind"
America, one in which, if the state treats everybody equally,
any remnants of the historical inequality will eventually wither
away. This view of social justice stands in stark opposition
to the liberal assumption that inequality is so bad that the
only realistic remedy is to occasionally reach in and favor
minorities. By such lights, the Balkanization that O'Connor
fears has actually been in place for more than a hundred years;
her worries about racial gerrymandering, suggests Dayna Cunningham
of the NAACP Legal Defense and Education Fund, are idyllic,
"based on a view of race and politics in this country that has
no grounding in reality."
</p>
<p> No one likes gerrymandering, even in this day and age. But some
see it as a medicine made necessary by generations of institutional
racism. If it were eliminated, what would replace it? Perhaps
nothing would work just fine, as the conservatives hope. Perhaps
some experimentation is in order involving the election of blacks
to at-large seats through systems of "cumulative" or "limited"
voting. Yet the political theory is knotty, and the surrounding
sensitivities raw: it was grapplings along precisely these lines
that a month ago crippled Guinier's public career.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>