Where is Race in the Race?

It was predictable. When Bob Dole snubbed the NAACP's annual meeting and then labeled the invitation a set-up, the news media swiftly focused on tactics and temperament. Was Dole's failure to appear a blunder, or perhaps a shrewd signal? Was he foolishly kissing off the black electorate, or reassuring the white middle class that he was no racial pushover? And of course, reporters hit the personality angle: Was the "mean" Dole again emerging?

 The questions were legitimate. But once again, political reporters had neglected a fundamental issue: What, in substantive terms, do the two presidential candidates have to say about America's most enduring challenge — race relations? The coverage reflects a perplexing pattern of fumbled opportunities.

 Generally, presidential candidates don't address race head-on. When a racial issue explodes, they tend to duck. The Los Angeles riots, for example, occurred early in the 1992 campaign, but after a few low-risk comments, the candidates let aching questions about racial conflict fade. More commonly, candidates deal with race indirectly through hedged statements about, say,
 affirmative action, or through code words about their policies on such issues as crime, welfare, or immigration.

 We're accustomed to the politicians' evasions, but the media's cooperation seems odd. Journalists often note the nation's racial tension. "America is obsessed with black and white," Newsweek declared after the O.J. Simpson verdict and Louis Farrakhan's Million Man March. Many reporters, editors, and broadcasters echo the words of NBC anchor Tom Brokaw: "Race is probably the single most important issue we deal with." And in the last fifteen years, journalism generally has improved coverage of race and ethnicity, providing a fuller view of multicultural America's mix of hope and heartache.

 Yet when it comes to the presidential campaign, talented political reporters who pride themselves on prodding candidates often fail to explore the interplay of race and politics. In day-to-day stories, they too seldom press candidates on race-related issues. In analysis pieces, they tend to ignore the campaign's often subtle racial dimension. A few illustrations:

• When Dole eventually expressed regret at stiffing the NAACP and defended his civil-rights record as "flawless," few reporters seized the chance to analyze his thirty-year record. Most stories focused on his gift for gaffes and how aides urged him to be more "scripted."

* When President Clinton spoke to the NAACP meeting, he uttered some soothing words on racial amity and then focused on crime and gun control. The meeting apparently did not inspire reporters to ask the president to offer his own plans for narrowing America's racial splits.

* When fascinating stories appeared about multiracial Americans irked by rigid racial categories in the census, hardly anyone asked Dole and Clinton where they stood (as if they bore no responsibility for the laws of the land).

* Similarly, when candidates talk about welfare reform — far-reaching legislation that Clinton, after agonizing, decided to sign — race is implicit. Yet political reporters seldom call on candidates to address the law's racial repercussions. For example, tougher work rules have a disproportionate impact on blacks and Latinos, many in central cities long ago stripped of industrial jobs. Likewise, if reform hurls one million children into poverty, as critics allege, racial disparity looms. While one in eight American children receives welfare, roughly 60 percent of the recipients are black or Latino. Too few stories connect those dots.

 The causes for this journalistic sag are multiple. Among contributing factors:

• Complexity. In the 1960s, racial segregation was a clear-cut moral issue. Today, ambiguity clouds racial concerns (affirmative action is but one example). So, race is more elusive to cover.

* Compassion fatigue. A few years ago, Howard Kurtz, the Washington Post media reporter, observed: "The plain fact is that newspapers [and he could add TV news programs] reflect the mood and values of white, middle-class society, and that society by the early '90s had simply grown tired of the intractable problems of the urban underclass."

* White dominion. The two candidates are white; most political reporters are white; so are most of the producers and editors who set the news agenda. Significantly, when Dole and Vice President Albert Gore addressed the American Society of Newspaper Editors in April, neither man was asked a single question bearing on race relations.

* Nature of campaigns. Reporters tend to report on issues that candidates raise; thus if depression-level unemployment among black and Latino urban males isn't mentioned, political reporters tend to skip it.

* Professional risk. Race reporting can be hazardous to journalists. To tackle racial issues is to court misunderstanding and criticism — both inside and outside the newsroom. Even the addition of minority reporters doesn't necessarily help, since they, too, can be reluctant to rock the racial boat.

 Yes, there are exceptions in campaign coverage. For example, after the NAACP flap, The Baltimore Sun's Karen Hosler examined Dole's congressional record on civil rights, and found it solid despite recent retreats on affirmative action. Jeanne Cummings of The Atlanta Journal and Constitution explored how Dole and Clinton have dealt with race from boyhood onward. And Jonathan Tilove, of Newhouse News Service, wrote about the remarkable resilience of affirmative action in an election year.

 But too many political reporters fail to similarly serve voters as they ponder who should lead an often racially splintered country into the twenty-first century.

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