Order them to alter their policies.
I was so stubborn about this aspect of our national life, and so firm in my belief that wrong
had
been done to our black population, that I failed to consider the weaknesses in affirmative action until they were pointed out by black scholars like Thomas Sowell. First, any quota system rigorously enforced runs the risk of promoting inadequately trained minority members over adequately trained whites. Second, the black student or fireman or policeman runs the risk of being scorned by his peers for having gained his position by color rather than by merit. Third, a quota system by definition casts a shadow over the entire group being favored and is therefore ultimately unfair to the African American who
is
qualified. Supreme Court decisions have forced me to restudy this inflammable subject. Also, of great importance, I failed to see the degree of bitterness that affirmative action would inspire in the working class; nor did I foresee that the anger of workmen would be directed at the Democratic Party. But despite its negatives I remain committed to the principle of affirmative action and its subsidiary, the quota system, when required to correct egregious imbalances.
Welfare is another government program designed to help blacks—and whites—living in poverty. While I am committed to the principle that the less fortunate should have a safety net, I recognize there are problems with our current system. That well-to-do businessman who rants so irrationally against the welfare system and says blacks should pull themselves up by their bootstraps like everyone else does, however, legitimately have much to complain about. I have known two black women, whom I will call Salome and Norma and who are prototypes of many stories that have circulated. Together they epitomize both the experiences of African American women and the problems of our currentsystem of welfare assistance. Both in their early thirties, each had been married to a husband who had casually disappeared, leaving his wife with no funds or child support. Each had children, Salome a lively six, Norma a more restrained three.
There the similarities end, for Salome was a heavy-drinking, raucous party girl whose six children were sired by five different fathers, while Norma was quiet and almost demure and had suffered when her husband deserted her. Salome had a home teeming with children whom she did little to control; Norma was a frugal housewife whose two rooms with minimal conveniences nevertheless formed a real home in which she carefully reared her son and two daughters.
Although both were poor, the two young women had experienced radically different economic histories. Salome was the third generation of women in her family to exist on public welfare, and almost complacently she took for granted that her six children would pass easily onto the relief rolls when they became adults. Her oldest daughter, unmarried, was already pregnant with her second child.
Salome’s family finances were minimal: a total of $313 a week for herself and her children from Aid to Families with Dependent Children; $608 per month in food stamps; and approximately $1,040 a month from the local housing authority for a four-bedroom home and her monthly electric, gas and water bills.
She achieved notoriety when a newspaper wanted to write about a family headed by generations of women without husbands. Someone directed the reporters to Salome, who proved to be a perfect subject. Brassy, outspoken, witty and wildly self-defensive, she said she was proud of her six fatherless children and had brought them up to be good citizens, except for the older boy who was already in jail—‘No fault of his.’ She could not, however, explain how someone else had been guilty of thearmed robbery. In her justification of her lifestyle she gave a memorable quote: ‘I have a right to have as many children as I want, and it’s the job of the government to take care of
I was so stubborn about this aspect of our national life, and so firm in my belief that wrong
had
been done to our black population, that I failed to consider the weaknesses in affirmative action until they were pointed out by black scholars like Thomas Sowell. First, any quota system rigorously enforced runs the risk of promoting inadequately trained minority members over adequately trained whites. Second, the black student or fireman or policeman runs the risk of being scorned by his peers for having gained his position by color rather than by merit. Third, a quota system by definition casts a shadow over the entire group being favored and is therefore ultimately unfair to the African American who
is
qualified. Supreme Court decisions have forced me to restudy this inflammable subject. Also, of great importance, I failed to see the degree of bitterness that affirmative action would inspire in the working class; nor did I foresee that the anger of workmen would be directed at the Democratic Party. But despite its negatives I remain committed to the principle of affirmative action and its subsidiary, the quota system, when required to correct egregious imbalances.
Welfare is another government program designed to help blacks—and whites—living in poverty. While I am committed to the principle that the less fortunate should have a safety net, I recognize there are problems with our current system. That well-to-do businessman who rants so irrationally against the welfare system and says blacks should pull themselves up by their bootstraps like everyone else does, however, legitimately have much to complain about. I have known two black women, whom I will call Salome and Norma and who are prototypes of many stories that have circulated. Together they epitomize both the experiences of African American women and the problems of our currentsystem of welfare assistance. Both in their early thirties, each had been married to a husband who had casually disappeared, leaving his wife with no funds or child support. Each had children, Salome a lively six, Norma a more restrained three.
There the similarities end, for Salome was a heavy-drinking, raucous party girl whose six children were sired by five different fathers, while Norma was quiet and almost demure and had suffered when her husband deserted her. Salome had a home teeming with children whom she did little to control; Norma was a frugal housewife whose two rooms with minimal conveniences nevertheless formed a real home in which she carefully reared her son and two daughters.
Although both were poor, the two young women had experienced radically different economic histories. Salome was the third generation of women in her family to exist on public welfare, and almost complacently she took for granted that her six children would pass easily onto the relief rolls when they became adults. Her oldest daughter, unmarried, was already pregnant with her second child.
Salome’s family finances were minimal: a total of $313 a week for herself and her children from Aid to Families with Dependent Children; $608 per month in food stamps; and approximately $1,040 a month from the local housing authority for a four-bedroom home and her monthly electric, gas and water bills.
She achieved notoriety when a newspaper wanted to write about a family headed by generations of women without husbands. Someone directed the reporters to Salome, who proved to be a perfect subject. Brassy, outspoken, witty and wildly self-defensive, she said she was proud of her six fatherless children and had brought them up to be good citizens, except for the older boy who was already in jail—‘No fault of his.’ She could not, however, explain how someone else had been guilty of thearmed robbery. In her justification of her lifestyle she gave a memorable quote: ‘I have a right to have as many children as I want, and it’s the job of the government to take care of
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