After Hillary Clinton won the California Democratic Primary with strong support from Latino and Asian voters, it was an accepted truism among some political pundits that Latinos and Asians were averse to voting for an African American. Within the next weeks, however, we witnessed Barack Obama winning Virginia while carrying the majority of Latino voters and also drawing even or even surpassing Clinton among Latinos in national exit polls. Then, Obama carried Hawaii, the nation's only state with an Asian American majority (nearly 2/3 of the population), by a 3-1 margin. Now, Clinton's big lead in Texas has all but disappeared. Was it possible that Obama eradicated the supposedly ingrained prejudices of Latinos and Asians in less than a fortnight? While it may be tempting to add this feat to the list of extraordinary things he has accomplished, the reality is that interethnic relations have always been more complex than the pundits realize.
We need to recognize that the concept of "race relations" we have inherited from the twentieth century is impoverished in two fundamental ways. First, studies of relations between races often reinforce the wrongful impression that "races" are fixed metrics, when the crucial thing to understand is how our notions of racial identity are constantly evolving. Second, the idea of "race relations" is generally premised on the existence of a white majority and a black minority or other ethnic minorities. But the white majority, a distant memory in California, is fading from the national scene faster than one can regret saying "macaca."
When we move beyond fixed and outmoded conceptions of race, we can develop a better appreciation of how and why interethnic attitudes tend to be contradictory. In December 2007, a collaborative of ethnic news organizations, New American Media, released the findings of what it called "the nation's first multilingual poll, which examines how the nation's largest ethnic groups feel towards each other." Not too shocking, given the general lack of multiethnic awareness in America, the poll revealed some "deep divisions" between communities of color. For instance, 47% of Asians and 44% of Latinos agreed with the statement, "I am generally afraid of African Americans because they are responsible for most of the crime." Meanwhile, 52% of African American respondents agreed with the statement, "Most Asian business owners do not treat us with respect." Poll respondents from all three groups also tended to socialize and date primarily members of their own group.
At the same time, the vast majority of Latinos (92%), African Americans (89%), and Asian Americans (86%) agreed with the statement, "African Americans, Latinos, and Asians have many similar problems. They should put aside their differences and work together on issues that affect their communities." Seemingly, most people of color embrace an ideal of multiethnic solidarity, but many tend to act on the basis of real or perceived divergence of interests. Overcoming this contradiction in the future will necessitate telling a new story about the past.
History can provide us with a better sense of how the tensions and possibilities we face today are part of a continuously shifting politics of race -- one whose future direction we have the power to shape. History can also shed light on the genealogy of relations transcending the bipolar majority/minority framework. As I have written previously, my studies of Los Angeles have helped me to anticipate some of the ways in which the multiethnic dynamics are shaping up on a national scale today. In researching my book, The Shifting Grounds of Race: Black and Japanese Americans in the Making of Multiethnic Los Angeles, I began to appreciate why common experiences with discrimination provide a rationale for interethnic cooperation but are insufficient to make it a reality. Black and Japanese Americans in 20th century LA recognized they were similarly hampered by white racism, and leaders of both groups espoused the virtues of multiracial solidarity. They formed interpersonal relationships, and some united to fight restrictive covenants and other forms of oppression.
But black and Japanese American economic survival strategies varied and their political statuses never completely aligned. Moreover, the actions of the state and of white elites perched atop the racial hierarchy drove a wedge between them. Some material differences of historical experience are obvious. For instance, blacks made major political advances during World War II while Japanese Americans were interned behind barbed wire.
However, racial ideology can prove just as divisive. Indeed, it is often differences in perception that hinder the prospects for coalition building -- even when diverse communities of color recognize that they share "many similar problems." Some African Americans, for instance, view Asian Americans as a politically passive people who have not carried their own weight in the struggle for civil rights. Of course, there are Asian Americans who are conservative and passive, but the same is true of every group. Yet, because Asian American history and politics are inadequately addressed by the media and public schools, many blacks are unaware of the actual struggles Asian Americans have waged and do not recognize the barriers that have obstructed Asian American political agency. Likewise, many Asian Americans get a simplistic and distorted view of African American history and protest from popular culture. As such, some are quick to dismiss black activism as counterproductive and not conforming to their vision of advancement through hard work and good deeds.
Scholars at the forefront of multiethnic studies are helping to make sense of our changing reality by uncovering the stories behind the statistics. The recent poll's finding that Latinos and Asians are more likely than blacks to believe in the "American Dream" is part of a longer narrative concerning the desire to "belong" in America. While ostensibly a basis for interethnic unity, the quest to belong has often pitted communities of color against each other. During World War II, African American activists in LA advanced a patriotic "victory" discourse to build a case for civil rights. They asserted that their desire to contribute to the win-the-war effort mandated the removal of discriminatory barriers to defense employment and housing. Although few blacks argued for Japanese American internment, African Americans generally saw their social status rise as Japanese Americans were singled out for persecution and Mexican Americans were targeted next.
Then, the tables quickly turned, as white elites highlighted the postwar construction of Japanese and Asian Americans as a "model" minority to reinforce the stigmatization of blacks as a "problem" once again. American-born Asians made an unprecedented move into jobs previously reserved for whites and into suburban homes nestled within majority white neighborhoods. Ironically, the movement for racial integration wound up creating new divisions. Since then, the rise of post-1965 immigration simultaneous with the heightened globalization of capital, the unmaking of the industrial order, and the evaporation of the New Deal safety net has created new anxieties and new bases for interethnic tension.
And yet in the face of these historical cleavages, LA has consistently produced conscious voices of solidarity. At the height of white wartime prejudice against Mexicans and Japanese, some black activists rushed to the defense of the Mexican American defendants in the Sleepy Lagoon case and also demanded the right of Japanese American internees to reclaim their homes (many of which were occupied by African Americans). Some of today's Japanese American leaders, who came of age at the height of postwar assimilation, developed cultural and political worldviews shaped by the black and Mexican American movement activists.
There is reason to believe the shared ideal of multiethnic solidarity will come closer to reality in the new millennium. The once prevalent notion that minority advancement necessitated assimilation to white norms has largely vanished. Moving beyond the idea that "whiteness" equates to "majority" in America opens up new possibilities for interethnic and multiethnic relations. Communities of color need not view themselves as "minorities" in competition with each other to get closer to the status of whites but instead must recognize their increasing power and responsibility to redefine and reshape the majority culture.
Scott Kurashige is the author of The Shifting Grounds of Race: Black and Japanese Americans in the Making of Multiethnic Los Angeles (Princeton University Press). He is an associate professor of History, American Culture, and Asian/Pacific Islander American Studies at the University of Michigan.