Blowing Smoke - Michael Wolraich [46]
For all his racist appeal, Wallace seldom denigrated blacks directly. Even in Alabama in the early 1960s, overt racism was becoming taboo, so Wallace played semantic games to pretend that he and his supporters were big fans of their black compatriots—as long as they didn’t have to be in the same room with them. According to Wallace’s curious lexicon, “a racist is one who despises someone because of his color, and an Alabama segregationist is one who conscientiously believes that it is in the best interest of Negro and white to have a separate education and social order.”13
In place of black people, Wallace targeted their patrons, the “integratin’, scalawaggin’, carpetbaggin’ liars” from Washington, DC, who were oppressing the good (white) folks of Alabama. In his inaugural address, Wallace, with no sense of irony, summoned his fellow citizens to “rise to the call for freedom-loving blood that is in us and send our answer to the tyranny that clanks its chains upon the South . . . I say segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.”14 When JFK sent the Alabama National Guard to forcibly integrate the University of Alabama, Wallace stood defiantly at the entrance and decried “the oppression of the rights, privileges and sovereignty of this state by officers of the federal government.”15
As Wallace himself insisted shortly before his death in 1998, “My vehemence was against the federal government folks. I didn’t make people get mad against black people. I made ’em get mad against the courts.”16 In other words, Wallace didn’t attack black people; he defended white people.
Wallace’s new racism sounded the perfect note for a white culture that was still deeply racist but no longer willing to admit it. The victim rhetoric particularly appealed to Southerners still nursing wounds from the Civil War, but Wallace also attracted nationwide support from white voters who wanted to join the hate parade, particularly after the nation convulsed with assassinations and race riots. While Southern racism had always been more virulent than elsewhere, racism was once more American than apple pie, and nothing brings out one’s inner bigot like rampaging black youths.
In 1968, Wallace ran for president as the American Independent Party candidate on a strident “law and order” platform that he assured reporters had nothing to do with race, innocently asking, “When does it come to have racial overtones in this country to stand for law and order?”17 His not-racially-overtoned message was clearly effective. At his peak, Wallace had support from 23 percent of the electorate, and he ultimately won five Southern states in the election. No third-party presidential candidate since Wallace has won a single electoral vote.
In the late 1970s, after an assassination attempt derailed his presidential aspirations and left him paralyzed, Wallace experienced a rebirth of sorts. Repenting his prior political tactics, Wallace personally apologized to many of the people that he had attacked throughout his career. Running for governor in 1982, he sought the forgiveness of the black community and won again, this time with 90 percent of the black vote. As governor, he appointed a record number of blacks to state government positions.
The Southern Strategy
By the time Wallace repented, the “new breed of racism” genie had long since left its bottle and adopted new masters who were subtler and less fickle. Richard Nixon, for instance, was aware of Wallace’s remarkable third-party run. He was also aware that Republican presidential candidate Barry Goldwater’s opposition to the 1964 Civil Rights Act had enabled him to make unprecedented inroads into the Democratic South. Nixon put two and two together. But there was a catch. To win the South, he had to oppose civil rights; but if he opposed civil rights, he would lose the North. What was a crafty conservative politician to do?
Enter the Southern Strategy stage right [cue “Sweet Home, Alabama”]. The key to Nixon’s Southern strategy