When Georgia was withering last year under one of the worst heat waves in memory, Dewey Holton Jr.'s congresswoman grasped the problems, brought federal officials around and helped get federal disaster assistance. "I don't know of anyone who could have handled the situation better," says Holton, a 52 year-old farmer whose father and grandfather worked the same red soil in Washington County.
In an age of pervasive cynicism about government, Holton's enthusiasm for his representative is rare. What makes it even more intriguing is that Holton is white and Rep. Cynthia McKinney is one of 12 African-Americans elected in 1992 to represent black-majority districts in the South -- districts that were drawn, often very creatively, in an effort to increase the number of African-Americans in Congress. "Black, white or whatever, that don't bother me as long as the job is done," says Holton. "I don't have any problem because she's black and I'm white."
Others, however, are less concerned with how well McKinney represents Georgia's 11th Congressional District, which winds through 22 counties from suburban Atlanta to Savannah, than they are with the idea that gerrymandering in the pursuit of diversity is no vice. Last week, a federal judicial panel in Atlanta ruled that McKinney's district is unconstitutional because the state legislature drew its boundaries solely to include more black voters. "The assumption that the sole means of enhancing blacks' political influence is to pack them into such districts is unimaginative," wrote two of the three judges on the panel. Unless the Supreme Court rules otherwise, the decision will put the election on hold as the judges try to redraw the district's boundaries themselves.
Following a 1993 Supreme Court decision questioning the constitutionality of race-based redistricting, districts in Louisiana, Texas, Florida, Georgia and North Carolina are being challenged. A federal court ruling this summer upholding North Carolina's disputed districts left the question of racial gerrymandering, and the fate of the districts, in a state of confusion.
The minority districts, created under new provisions of the Voting Rights Act, achieved their goal, sending more African- Americans to Congress from the South in 1992 than at any time since Reconstruction. But their opponents argue that drawing congressional districts to achieve racial goals violates the 14th Amendment (which ironically was adopted to protect black ex- slaves) and devalues the votes of whites in these districts.
Most of the new districts were drawn along convoluted lines, often linking distant black communities to create a black majority (map, Page 51). The challengers, virtually all of whom are white, say the districts link diverse people with nothing in common but skin color; this, they say, insults blacks and disfranchises whites. "We don't want to have reciprocal racial domination," insists Paul Hurd, a Baton Rouge lawyer who represents plaintiffs in the Louisiana case.
But civil rights lawyers and black elected officials argue that the attempt to downplay the significance of race in the South ignores both a history of political suppression and recent elections in which African-American challengers failed to win in congressional districts with sizable minority populations, including a North Carolina district in which 40 percent of the Democratic electorate was black.
Black voters, white votes. Political analysts and voting rights experts say white Southern Democrats in Congress, who represented 88.4 percent of blacks in the South before 1992, have often failed to respect the wishes of even substantial black constituencies. "White Democrats voted with Ronald Reagan 44.5 percent of the time," says David Bositis of the liberal Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies in Washington. Those were mostly Southern Democrats whose black constituents overwhelmingly opposed Reagan.
Those who are challenging the minority congressional districts, however, face an uphill battle proving that the attempt to increase black representation is penalizing white voters. Whites wield considerable influence in the "narrowly tailored" black districts, all of which have white minorities of more than 30 percent and most of which generally have lower voter turnout among blacks.
Moreover, the new African-American representatives have made a point of keeping in touch with constituents of all colors. "I have a presence in every parish in the district," says Rep. Cleo Fields of Louisiana's Fourth. "I've logged 43,000 miles on my official vehicle."
The voting records and committee assignments of Southern blacks also reflect their districts' interests, not just those of black constituents. African Americans representing the region are likely to vote with their Northern liberal counterparts on civil rights issues but are generally more conservative on other issues and more interested in serving on agriculture committees. Ironically, however, carving out majority-black districts may be helping tip the balance of political power in the South from Democrats to Republicans. Their creation has made neighboring districts even whiter than before, and that helped the Republicans score big gains in Georgia and Florida in 1992. While Georgians sent McKinney and fellow African-Americans Sanford Bishop and John Lewis to Congress, the number of Republicans in the state's eight-member delegation jumped from one to four. In 11 Southern states, Republicans increased their share of House seats from 39 to 48. And while the Congressional Black Caucus gained new clout in Washington, growing from 26 to 39 members, the Democratic majority in the House of Representatives shrank. Republican year? Thanks to Bill Clinton's unpopularity with conservative Southern Democrats and the widespread fear of higher taxes, big government and labor unions, the GOP could make even bigger gains in the South this fall. But black representatives say neither they nor racial gerrymandering can be blamed for that: "If the Democrats lose the House, it won't be because of the black caucus," says McKinney. "It would be because of the Democratic leadership." She and other African-American officeholders say the party must look to its policies and not to black voters, who, although they have been among the most loyal Democratic voters, have been frustrated by their inability before 1992 to elect more than a token handful of African-American representatives.
As lawyers and politicians fight, many white voters couldn't be happier with their new legislators. "Cynthia McKinney is there to serve, and she serves," says Judy Lammers, a white voter who operates a nonprofit program assisting low-income families in Effingham County outside Savannah, a program for which McKinney helped get funding. "If everyone would pay attention to what she's doing instead of that she's black, this wouldn't be happening."
Redistricting for diversity Created after the 1990 census, Rep. Cynthia McKinney's district is one of eight minority districts -- seven black and one Hispanic -- facing challenges in court. Stretching from suburban Atlanta to Savannah, the 11th District includes black communities in Augusta and Savannah. It is one of three black districts in Georgia, which together represent about 27 percent of the state's voting age population -- the percentage of blacks in the state.
