For all the hype about generational and gender wars in the 2008 Democratic presidential primary,
we have a class war on our hands. And incredibly, corporate America’s preferred candidate is winning the poorer “us”
versus the wealthier “them”—a potentially decisive trend with the contest now moving to working-class bastions
like Ohio and Pennsylvania.
In most states, polls show Hillary Clinton is beating Barack Obama among voters making $50,000
a year or less—many of whom say the economy is their top concern. Yes, the New
York senator who appeared on the cover of Fortune magazine as Big Business’s candidate is winning economically
insecure, lower-income communities over the Illinois senator who grew up as an organizer helping those communities combat
unemployment. This absurd phenomenon is a product of both message and bias.
Obama has let Clinton characterize the 1990s
as a nirvana, rather than a time that sowed the seeds of our current troubles. He barely criticizes the Clinton administration
for championing job-killing trade agreements. He does not question that same administration’s role in deregulating the
financial industry and thereby intensifying today’s boom-bust catastrophes. And he rarely points out what McClatchy
Newspapers reported this week: that Clinton spent most of her career at a law firm “where she represented big companies
and served on corporate boards,” including Wal-Mart’s.
Obama hasn’t touched any of this for two reasons.
First, his campaign relies on corporate donations. Though Obama certainly is less industry-owned
than Clinton, the Washington Post noted last spring that he was the top recipient
of Wall Street contributions. That cash is hush money, contingent on candidates silencing their populist rhetoric.
But while this pressure to keep quiet affects all politicians, it is especially intense against
black leaders.
“If Obama started talking like John Edwards and tapped into working-class, blue-collar
proletarian rage, suddenly all of those white voters who are viewing him within the lens of transcendence would start seeing
him differently,” says Charles Ellison of the University of Denver’s Center for African American Policy.
That’s because once Obama parroted Edwards’ attacks on greed and inequality, he
would “be stigmatized as a candidate mobilizing race,” says Manning Marable, a Columbia University history professor.
That is, the media would immediately portray him as another Jesse Jackson—a
figure whose progressivism has been (unfairly) depicted as racial politics anathema to white swing voters.
Remember, this is always how power-challenging African-Americans are marginalized. The establishment
cites a black leader’s race- and class-unifying populism as supposed proof of his or her radical, race-centric views.
An extreme example of this came from the FBI, which labeled Martin Luther King Jr. “the most dangerous man in America”
for talking about poverty. More typical is the attitude exemplified by Joe Klein’s 2006 Time magazine column.
He called progressive Rep. John Conyers, D-Mich., “an African American of a certain age and ideology, easily stereotyped”
and “one of the ancient band of left-liberals who grew up in the angry hothouse of inner-city, racial-preference politics.”
The Clintons are only too happy to navigate this ugly cultural topography. After a rare Obama
attack on Hillary Clinton for supporting policies that eliminated jobs, Bill Clinton quickly likened Obama’s campaign
to Jackson’s, and the Clinton campaign told the Associated Press Obama was “the black candidate.” These
were deliberate statements telling Obama that if he talks about class, they’ll talk about race.
And so, as Marable says, Obama’s pitch includes “no mention of the class struggle
or class conflict.” It is “hope” instead of an economic case, bromide instead of critique. The result is
an oxymoronic dynamic.
Obama, the person who fought blue-collar joblessness in the shadows of shuttered factories,
is winning wealthy enclaves. But Clinton, the person whose globalization policies helped shutter those factories, is winning
blue-collar strongholds.
Obama, who was schooled by the same organizing networks as Cesar Chavez, is being endorsed
by hedge fund managers. But Clinton, business’s favorite, is being endorsed by the United Farm Workers—the union
that Chavez created.
Obama, the candidate from Chicago’s impoverished South Side, is finding support on Connecticut’s
gilded south coast. But Hillary Clinton, the candidate representing Big Money, is finding support from those with relatively
little money.
As the campaign heads to the struggling Rust Belt under banners promising “change,” this bizarre class war may end up guaranteeing no real transformation at all.
