Jack Salzman, Cornel West Struggles in the Promised

Introduction \\ 5
against the will of the nation's white citizenry.") 7 But for Jews, the Jackson and
Simpson media events functioned as a prelude to Farrakhan and the march. Some
people felt that more moderate voices should have organized the march. But all
that seemed unrealistic. Neither Ben Chavis, Kwasi Mfumi, nor Jesse Jackson had
the authority to attract so many African Americans to a rally. Whether whites
liked it or not, only Farrakhan—whom West referred to as "white America's
worst nightmare"—could pull it off, and he did. 8 So intense was the distrust of
Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam, that there seemed no room for a discussion of
the real issues surrounding Farrakhan: What was it about him that resonated so
strongly with so many Black students? And if Farrakhan was to be feared and
rejected as a rabid anti-Semite, who in the United States had a meaningfully realistic
program that would alter the devastation of human lives taking place in parts
of the Black community? These questions had no acceptable answers. The challenge
of Farrakhan, then, as West put it in a discussion with Michael Lerner, "is
the degree to which others will now provide alternative leadership to Farrakhan,
by building on the King legacy and King's vision of the direction for the Black
community." 9 But for all of West's hope that the fear and anxiety Farrakhan arouses
in whites might result in a more pronounced progressive leadership, that hope
shows almost no sign of becoming a reality. If anything, race does seem to be the
issue that most defines and divides the United States as we make our way into the
twenty-first century.
And as we make our way toward the millennium, there is little indication that
the liberal coalition occasionally formed by Blacks and Jews has any real chance
of being reestablished. It is too easy to contend, as some do, that the relationship
has never been worse; among other things, that would suggest that there was a
time when it really was strong. But to suggest so would be a mistake. What little
can be said with certainty is simply this: the peculiar entanglements of Blacks
and Jews have, at times, provided an important impetus for social justice in the
United States and, at other times, have been the cause of great tension. Beyond
this, matters become murkier. For a while, there was much talk about Black-
Jewish dialogue, and groups in various parts of the country would meet to look
for "common ground." But, increasingly, many African Americans seem to have
lost interest in "dialoguing," in trying to understand what went wrong. Jobs, not
talk, is necessarily their prime agenda. So, too, with alliances: with the change in
demographics, both African Americans and American Jews are starting to seek
new relations with Latinos and Asian-Americans. Simply put, common ground is
in a state of dramatic flux.
Indeed, halfway through the last decade of the twentieth century there is little
reason to think that there is much common ground between African
Americans and American Jews. The argument that both Jews and Blacks have a
shared heritage of enslavement makes little sense in the United States. Religious
Blacks may have used the Old Testament as a source of inspiration for their own
travails, but neither the story of Exodus nor the Jewish experience of voluntary