The Senate
Apologizes, Mostly
By SHERYL GAY
STOLBERG, NYTimes on the web, June 19, 2005
WASHINGTON — DOES being in
Congress mean always having to say you're sorry?
Last week, the Senate issued a formal apology to lynching victims and their
descendants, marking the first time Congress had apologized to African-Americans
for any reason. The intent was to erase what lawmakers called a stain on
the Senate's history: its repeated refusal, throughout the first half of
the 20th century, to make lynching a federal crime.
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Associated Press
Lynchings,
mainly of black men, were once common in America. These two were
carried out by a mob in Marion, Ind., in 1930. |
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This being Washington, however, not
everyone was on board.
When the resolution passed Monday -- by voice vote, so that lawmakers did not
have to go on record -- 20 senators had yet to become co-sponsors or sign their
names to a placard expressing support. By week's end, with liberal
bloggers selling T-shirts ("My senator went to Washington ... and all I got was
a lousy lynching") listing the missing signatories, the number had dwindled to
eight, all Republicans.
"Who are the dirty eight?" demanded Donna Brazile, the Democratic strategist,
whose autobiography, "Cooking With Grease," recounts memories of growing up
black in racially segregated Louisiana.
Their identities could be learned by looking at a list of Senate supporters
maintained by Senator Mary Landrieu of Louisiana, the measure's chief Democratic
sponsor. Absent were Lamar Alexander of Tennessee; Thad Cochran of
Mississippi; John Cornyn of Texas; Mike Enzi of Wyoming; Judd Gregg of New
Hampshire; Trent Lott of Mississippi; John Sununu of New Hampshire; and Craig
Thomas of Wyoming.
Each had his reasons. Some said they didn't find it necessary to
"co-sponsor every nice piece of legislation," in the words of Senator Sununu.
Others, like Senators Enzi and Gregg, said through spokesmen that they supported
the measure, noting that it could not have passed by voice vote if they had
objected.
Senator Alexander, in a lengthy speech submitted for the Congressional record,
argued the best way for the Senate "to condemn lynching is to get to work" on
legislation promoting good schools and better health care for blacks.
But some, like Senators Cochran, Cornyn and Lott, raised pointed questions about
the wisdom of official apologies.
Is it necessary, they asked, for politicians to confess to sins they personally
did not commit? And when the government begins apologizing, where and when
does it stop?
"I don't think I'll get in the business of apologizing for acts that previous
Senates took," Senator Cochran said.
His Mississippi colleague, Senator Lott, who lost his post as Senate majority
leader several years ago over racially insensitive remarks, said: "Where
do we end all of this? Are we going to apologize for not doing the right
thing on Social Security?"
But in the recent past, Congress has been saying "I'm sorry" with greater
frequency. In 1988, Congress passed, and President Reagan signed, a
measure apologizing to Japanese-Americans for their internment during World War
II, and offering $20,000 in reparations to surviving internees. Checks and
letters of apology began going out the following year.
In 1990, Congress apologized to uranium miners and others injured by nuclear
testing. In 1993, it apologized to native Hawaiians for the role the
government played in overthrowing their kingdom. And some, including
Representative John Lewis, the Georgia Democrat and civil rights activist, want
Congress to apologize for slavery.
Political apologies do not come easily, though, and politicians know to choose
their words precisely.
President Bill Clinton, who rose to the White House by feeling other people's
pain, was a master of careful contrition. In 1998, on a trip to Uganda, he
stopped just short of apologizing for slavery; instead he expressed regret for
the American role in the slave trade. Republicans, including
Representative Tom DeLay of Texas, now the House Republican leader, ridiculed
him.
"Here's a flower child with gray hairs," Mr. DeLay said at the time, "doing
exactly what he did back in the 60's: he's apologizing for the actions of
the United States." When the Senate took up the reparations bill for
Japanese-Americans, the vote was 69 to 27 -- a sizable, but not overwhelming
endorsement.
Some said the money cheapened the apology, and some said the talk itself was
cheap. Not so, according to dozens of relatives of lynching victims who
came to the Capitol last week, as well as other recipients of other official
apologies.
"My father-in-law had the letter of apology, from the president of the United
States, framed and hanging in his home," said Representative Doris Matsui, a
California Democrat, whose parents, in-laws and late husband, Robert, were all
interned during World War II. "It was that important to members of their
generation."
One open question is what benefit a politician gets from apologizing.
Senator George Allen, Republican of Virginia, for instance, has been criticized
in the past for displaying a noose in his law office; he called it a lasso and
said it was part of a Western paraphernalia collection. Now contemplating
a run for the presidency, Mr. Allen was the lead Republican sponsor of the
lynching apology -- a wise move, said Scott Reed, a Republican strategist.
"Anytime you're going to run for national office you make a list of who your
attackers will be," Mr. Reed said. "Anything you can do to mollify them or
take them off that list is a smart move."
But Ms. Brazile, the Democratic strategist, was not so certain. "That all
depends," she said, "on what comes after the apology. They have to walk
the walk after they talk the talk."
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