A First Black Presidency in the Light of Mexican History
(cross-posted at Rachel's Tavern)
There is an interesting discussion going on right now over at The Field Negro about what the first black President would actually mean for America.
Here are some points I'll summarize from the post and then from the ensuing discussion.
- Many white people may be voting for Obama in the assumption that if he's elected, racism will magically cease to exist. This false perception might actually make things worse for black people.
- But the people in charge right now (Republican conservatives) don't believe racism exists anyway.
- Obama's potential victory would represent a great advance for black people, especially in their sense of self-worth.
- Obama is running for President of America, not President of Black America. As such, it's wiser to vote not from a black perspective, but from an American citizen perspective.
- Black people should not expect that black elected leaders will accomplish everything; change also needs to come from the individual and community level.
I want to take a detour and talk about a fascinating precedent from our neighbor, Mexico. This precedent helps gives a global perspective to the question "what could the first black President mean for America."
Benito Juárez (1806-1872) was the president of Mexico for four terms in the 19th century. The story of his personal background and rise to power is awe-inspiring. He was the son of Zapotec villagers in the mountains in the south of Mexico. One day, he walked down from the mountains into town and took shelter at a church. He was 12 years old, illiterate, and could not speak Spanish, only Zapotec.Educated by priests, he learned Spanish, studied law, became a lawyer, then a judge, then began a political career. The barriers to all of this cannot be overstated. 19th-century Mexico was a caste-ridden society with full-blooded indigenous people at the bottom, mestizos in the middle and the white criollos at the very top. At every single step of the way, his facial features would have marked him out for exclusion and prejudice.
His Liberal party stood for reform against the more traditionalist Conservatives. He believed in secular, humanist and egalitarian ideals. He considered himself an ally of Lincoln, and when the Confederacy asked his government for help, he threw their emissary in jail, then deported him, "saying he would never give support to a country that held nearly one-third of its people in permanent bondage." He believed in the separation of church and state and wanted to end the rule of the Catholic Church, which controlled vast amounts of land, the educational system and great political power.
The Conservatives hated him so much that when Juárez was elected, they invited in the French army to take over Mexico. They would rather destroy Mexico's independence than live under a Juárez presidency.
Juárez's government fled to the north of Mexico and regrouped. He spent much of his time in office fighting off the French, and finally won. The French-installed usurper, Emperor Maximilian I, was sentenced to death. Four years later, Juárez died of a heart attack while working in his office.
Juárez is one of Mexico's best-loved Presidents. His face is on peso notes; he is everywhere memorialized in municipal names and public statues. Juárez is praised for preserving Mexico's independence against invading Europeans and advancing Mexico from semi-feudalism into the early stages of capitalism. His successor, the long-reigning Porfirio Díaz, is as hated as Juárez is loved. Díaz basically sold out Mexico to the United States and let it slide back into stagnation; his reign was so incredibly regressive it led to the Mexican Revolution of 1911.
What did this mean for indigenous Mexicans? After all, Juárez was the first truly native ruler in 300 years, since the time of Moctezuma and Cuauhtémoc. In this respect, his legacy was mixed. His rule was undoubtedly good for all Mexican citizens, especially when he's compared with his most miserable predecessors and successors. He did much to release the death grip of feudalism and theocracy. On the other hand, to drive forward his vision of modernity, he was ruthless and held no ethnic loyalty. His land reforms destroyed a particular form of communal land ownership and left indigenous people much more vulnerable to having their remaining land expropriated. He attacked not only traditions that hurt them, but traditions that helped them.
Today, the status of Mexico's indigenous people is better than in the 19th century. But it's still not very good. The modern-day veneration of Juárez coexists with severe structural oppression and an informal caste system. To give you some idea of how strong this system is… I once browsed some Mexican job ads and noticed a requirement for many jobs: "buena presentación". I asked a Mexican friend what this meant. "Is it like 'professional demeanor'?" He said, cynically, "it means you shouldn't look too Indian or they won't hire you."
19th-century Mexico isn't 21st-century America, of course. The parallel is inexact but illuminating. The first black President of America won't signify an end to racism… perhaps even not in 100 years. It's just one of many steps in many intersecting paths along the way. On the other hand, a lot can happen in 100 years. I don’t think I'll see the end of racism and casteism in my lifetime, but I still hold out hope it will happen in the lifetime of my grandchildren.
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