In his 1963 book "Strength to Love," Martin Luther King Jr. wrote, "All progress is precarious, and the solution of one problem brings us face to face with another problem."
When King was assassinated in Memphis 40 years ago, the progress he had made gave way to a concern: Who would fill his shoes? Who would speak for black America? Few leaders, African-American or otherwise, have been able to enact social change on the scale King did.
But the void left by King was eventually shared by the Revs. Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton.
Jackson was traveling with King at the time of the assassination and was one of the last few men to see him alive. Sharpton had brief encounters with King as a youth. But he forged a strong bond with Jackson, who acted as his mentor, the two bonding via their shared adoration of King's work.
They're not the only black leaders working toward racial equality. They are, however, the only black leaders who have turned themselves into brands, doing so by cradling the restlessness of the civil-rights movement in their arms and carrying it forward from the '60s.
The two have long been criticized as publicity junkies, but they have loomed so large for so long that it had become hard to imagine a black America without them as the de facto spokesmen. That is, until the ascendancy of Barack Obama (a man whom King, were he alive today, would recognize as precarious progress incarnate). Obama has made himself the first viable black presidential candidate in large part by selling a vision of the future in which our nation's racial wounds can be healed by cooperation rather than opposition.
A major component of Obama's strategy has been to distance himself from prominent black leaders while being careful not to minimize their contributions. He has successfully navigated the tightrope walk. Obama has gained the support of Jackson, Sharpton and the Revs. Louis Farrakhan and Jeremiah Wright-all of whom Obama has kept at arm's length or publicly rebuked. Obama hasn't lost any of his support among the black community as a result. This suggests that if a general-election campaign succeeds, his presidency could have a changing effect on the leadership of black America not seen since King's death.
Sharpton acknowledges that an Obama presidency would change certain equations, but dismisses the notion it would damage his own relevance. "Obama is not running for the president of black America, he's running for president of America," he tells NEWSWEEK. "He wouldn't be in a position to mobilize people in response to racial injustice." Jackson agrees: "We currently have an African-American secretary of State, but that hasn't impacted our foreign policy. Having someone in the White House who is sensitive to these issues is helpful, but you still have to raise them."
Their positions on the issue are, of course, biased in the interest of self-preservation. But it's true that an Obama presidency would not mitigate the need for racial-justice advocacy. It would, however, raise new questions about whether Jackson and Sharpton are the men to do it. As long as people crave today's fresh ideas over yesterday's leftovers, the leadership of social movements will tend to fall to the young. Obama's youth has influenced his ability to inspire enthusiasm as much as his race has. Because of the impact King had, it's easy to forget that he was only 39 when he was killed. Jackson, meanwhile, is 66. Sharpton is 53. Farrakhan and Wright, now both retired, are 74 and 66, respectively. Rather than taking the tools of the civil-rights movement-stirring rhetoric, symbolic unity, nonviolent resistance-and arming a new generation with them, Jackson and Sharpton have never let go.
As they advance in age, the men will have to cede the spotlight to someone else-a new, ground-level leader. Like them, that person will have to be able to lobby for racial equality in ways elected officials cannot. But proximity to Jackson or Sharpton won't confer those responsibilities on anyone. Or will they? Jackson seems unsure. "Most doors open because you know the name of a certain person," he tells NEWSWEEK, suggesting he might be the one to eventually groom his successor. But then he suggests the opposite: "You can't just name a guy. When doors open, all kinds of guys come through." If the Obama experiment proves a success, if Americans can bridge their separations through dialogue, it becomes less likely that the person who walks through that door will hew to a bombastic style.
This article continues here: www.newsweek.com/id/130609
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