Jim Clyburn’s angry defense of charges he sold out his party | Opinion

What’s the difference between a politician and a statesman, you ask?

A politician is concerned with the next election; a statesman is concerned with the next generation. Which one describes Jim Clyburn, the 6th District Democratic congressman from South Carolina?

A recent piece in ProPublica, an online news site, portrayed Clyburn as a cynical politician who sold out his race and his party in a backroom deal to ensure that he held onto power.

Clyburn insists that he is merely trying to ensure that the Black vote in South Carolina is protected.

ProPublica reported on what it called a “secret” meeting in November 2021 between a Clyburn aide and members of South Carolina’s Senate Judiciary Committee just as that committee was fixing to redraw voting lines. When all the drawing was done, ProPublica concluded, Black voters were moved into — instead of out of — Clyburn’s district to ensure his reelection, and to ensure that virtually no other Democrat could win a different district.

The U.S. Supreme Court recently agreed to hear a lawsuit alleging the S.C. legislature gerrymandered districts to dilute Black and Democratic voting strength, while strengthening Republicans’ voting advantage.

Look, everyone knows that politics isn’t all puppies and lollipops, right? Deals cut in smoke-filled rooms are as much a part of politics as kissing babies and eating barbecue, and it’s probably best that you don’t look too closely — at the babies, at the barbecue, or at the backroom deals.

When I asked about the ProPublica piece, Clyburn angrily denied that there was anything nefarious about any meetings his staff or he had. He was, he insisted, merely “fighting attempts by some people saying they don’t have to draw districts that favor the Black community,” as the Civil Rights Act of 1965 dictated.

“The percentage of Black voters in my district has steadily dropped” during each of the past couple of redistrictings — from 58 percent to currently 48 percent.

“People write these lies, people read these lies and then they call and ask me about them and they write them again,” he said.

Who, me?

Clyburn, whose district is the only Democratic district in the state, said he was trying to ensure that the party doesn’t lose even that one.

“I’ve held this seat for 30 years, and I’m not going to be here another 30... Suppose I’d just let it (the percentage of Black voters in his district) drop to 30 percent? If I hadn’t fought for this,” he said, “and let Democrats lose this district, then people would be saying ‘Jim Clyburn let this happen.’ Why would I not try to protect this district for the next Black person?

“And now, for some stupid person to say I did something wrong — Come on,” he snapped. Relinquishing power is something few politicians do willingly, and giving up the kind of influence Clyburn has amassed would understandably be hard.

I mean, attendance at his annual World Famous Fish Fry in South Carolina is compulsory for Democratic office-seekers. In 2019, candidate Joe Biden and 20 other presidential hopefuls showed up, and it wasn’t because of some special seasoning Clyburn sprinkled on his flounder.

Speaking of flounder, when Biden’s campaign was floundering, taking on water, it was Clyburn’s endorsement that helped him right the ship and sail it into the White House.

When I attended Morris College in Sumter, S.C. — one of approximately 17 colleges I attended while trying to prolong an unremarkable basketball career — a group of Black community leaders would meet on campus periodically. One of them that 19-year-old me remembers was Clyburn, a Sumter native. He struck me as passionate and committed, as being really interested in improving the lot of people in that community.

In short, he struck me as someone who would hate a politician guilty of what ProPublica accused him of. The issue of voters and in which district they’re allowed to cast ballots is, undeniably, one of black and white. The issue of whether Clyburn is a cynical politician with his eyes on the next election — or a committed public servant looking out for the next generation — is not so black and white.

Barry Saunders is a member of the Editorial Board and founder of thesaundersreport.com.