How do Elephants Make Love?

How do Elephants Make Love?:

The Narrative Mechanics of Political Courtship

The changing demography of America makes it increasingly necessary for Republicans, who currently rely upon an overwhelmingly white base of support, to diversify their constituent body. In early 2009, newly elected Republican National Committee (RNC) chairman Michael Steele announced his intention to “take the GOP’s message to the black community” by “show[ing] up, spend[ing] time, and spend[ing] money,” officially declaring the party’s renewed desire to ‘woo’ a demographic held for some time by the Democratic Party (Nelson 2009: 98). What I wish us to consider, rather than dwelling upon the quantitative success of such attempts at the polls, is the particular genre and mode within which coalition efforts operate. How are they written? How should we read them? Considerable attention has been given to democratic theory’s use of romantic language over the years and, consequently, the idea of coalition building between two distinct demographic groups can be imagined as a form of political courtship. Considerably less attention, however, has been given to the particular romantic mode that such coalition efforts operate within, let alone the theoretical consequences each method of ‘pitching woo’ has on the minority group being pursued. Therefore, rather than addressing the ‘value’ of a coalition from a quantitative standpoint, I wish to consider the qualitative impact of political courtship. Toward this end, I present three modes of the romantic genre that coalitions could theoretically operate within: Harlequin romance, gothic romance, and rakish romance. Having established their characteristics, I will then explore the effect each mode has upon the sought after group, and consider the GOP’s recent coalition attempts in each of the three romantic modes. I conclude that, although not necessarily the GOP’s intent, the functional reality of democracy and coalition building rewards rakishness. The political impact such behavior has upon the African American community further damages future prospects at true inclusion and incorporation within America’s political parties.

Michael K. Fauntroy observes that, starting in the 2006 midterm election, America’s Republican Party began to drastically change its tactics in an effort “to win more African American support,” (2008: 49). While past efforts were characterized by “largely symbolic” activities, and were executed “without much consistency or resources,” the 2006 election had three Republican African Americans running for statewide offices: Michael Steele in Maryland, Kenneth Blackwell in Ohio, and Lynn Swann in Pennsylvania (ibid.). In the end, all three lost their respective races due to “macro-level political realities” that harmed black and white Republicans equally, but the election did mark, according to Fauntroy, a new beginning in the GOP’s long-term strategy (ibid.). Although there was an acknowledgment of this reality before 2008, which was reflected in the party’s 2006 attempt at attracting African American voters by running three black candidates in statewide elections, the most recent presidential election drove the point home: the Republican Party lost considerable ground with non-Whites between 2004 and 2008, the Hispanic vote reportedly dropping from 44% to 31%, and the black vote dropping from 11% to 4% (Wickham 2009: 11a). The manner in which the Republican Party attempts to represent the African American community must therefore be addressed.

Katherine Tate clearly explains the different ways one can be represented in Black Faces in the Mirror, employing Hanna Pitkin’s distinction between descriptive and substantive representation. Being descriptively represented means “the representative belongs to [one's] social or demographic group,” while being substantively represented means “the realization of [one's] political needs” by one’s representatives (Tate 2004: 13). A constituent may be one, none, or both of these, depending upon the circumstances, but descriptive representation without substantive representation is purely symbolic (ibid.). Similarly, one can make the distinction between symbolic and substantive legislation: substantive legislation causes something—be it tangible, such as money or housing, or abstract, such as a right—to change hands or be extended to a broader group; symbolic legislation, on the other hand “do[es] not distribute or redistribute any public good or regulate in the standard sense, but reflect[s] their constituents’ interests and concerns” (ibid.: 98).

This should not be misunderstood as Tate passing a value judgment upon descriptive or substantive representation, for she does not. Her purpose, in fact, is to address the opinions of those who dismiss the symbolic as meaningless. Seeing another in a position of power whom one considers to be like one’s self is exceptionally valuable, and “blacks are not alone in their strong appreciation of being descriptively represented; all Americans place a strong value on it” (ibid.: 6). Symbolic legislation is similarly important, for although it “neither distribute[s] nor redistribute[s] tangible public goods,” it does provide “special recognition on persons or groups” (ibid.: 81). Indeed, being symbolically represented may be more important in the eyes of some minority voters than having a party one identifies with in power. Although party affiliation “mattered when it came to judging the legislator’s performance” in a 1996 approval survey, “race mattered a great deal more” to the African Americans who were polled (ibid.: 122). To simply write off the descriptive and symbolic reveals an inability to comprehend the emotional consequences of political invisibility. As Tate argues, “in the marketplace of ideas and ideologies, this voice and recognition [of blacks and poor Americans] has potent currency” (ibid.: 110). Both descriptive and substantive representation will therefore be considered equally in our examination of the GOP’s courtship practices. First, however, we must give special attention to a concept so common we rarely consider what it means. What, exactly, is ‘romance’, and how does it have anything to do with politics?

Democratic coalitions, like democratic institutions themselves, generally operate in a romantic mode. Romance, however, can and has meant a wide variety of different things at different times to different people, making a clear explication of what I wish ‘romance’ to signify throughout this paper very necessary. Romance, in the most general, contemporary sense of the genre, denotes narratives about “passionate love prevailing against social, economic, or psychological odds,” and is therefore fairly all-encompassing (Murfin and Ray 2003: 415). By not limiting itself to normative sexuality or particular conventions of courtship within a given period, the romantic genre can be stacked with other modes as well. Consequently, there are seemingly innumerable variations within the genre: chivalric romances, romantic epics, gothic romances, Harlequin romance novels (which, as we will later discuss, borrow heavily from chivalric romances), romantic comedies, and so on. Indeed, depending upon how one defines ‘passionate love’, even narratives about homosocial friendships—the modern notion of ‘bromance’, for example—could fall within the romantic genre. In short, the romance of which I speak is about achieving union between two or more individuals, be it sexual, social, political, or any other form which one may think of. In a sense, therefore, all democracies and coalitions operate in a romantic genre.

While romantic narratives are stories about love and union, they are also stories of power, dominance, and control. They come into being among various other institutions—the state, the family, religion, and, most blatantly, the institution of gender—and must successfully navigate the pitfalls created by these established and influential bodies. Simultaneously, however, romance is also a narrative of creation: marital unions create new families, (hetero)sexual unions create subsequent generations, and political unions create new parties, states, or national identities. The creation of the new, however, is often premised upon the dissolution of the old: creating a new family may require one to cut ties with past sexual and/or social relations, just as creating a new state requires one to detach one’s self from the institutional structure and identity with which one has long associated. Romantic notions of union require one to commit, and the easiest way to demonstrate commitment is to sever other ties.

In addition to the external struggles over power and association in romantic narratives, which serves to make something ‘at stake’ for the characters and audience, there is a similar struggle within the romantic relationship itself that, depending upon the particular type of romance one is dealing with, may not be given proper attention. Very few romantic narratives present equalitarian relationships, and instead order individuals into dominant and supportive positions. Since heterosexual relationships are the historic norm for the romantic genre, it is worthy to consider which groups are presented as being masculine (i.e., better positioned to direct the collective action of a coalition and, consequently, are better positioned to reap the benefits of that collective action) and which groups play a stereotypically feminine role (characterized by dependence upon a masculine figure and consequently pushed into a supportive role within the coalition). Since we are examining coalition efforts as a form of political courtship, we must consider the gendered position of various groups and the consequences of that position in each of the romantic modes. Approaching the issue from this understanding of gender roles, blacks fall into the feminine position. This is for multiple reasons, including numerical inferiority (a key consideration in democracies) compared to the white-dominated Republican Party, historic disadvantages (exclusion from institutions such as the state tend to set one back a bit), continued racial biases (be they intentional or not) on the part of other racial demographics, and unequal economic standing.

The first romantic mode that will assist us in understanding the intent behind political courtship is Harlequin romance. In the concluding chapter of Democracy and the Foreigner, “The Genres of Democracy,” Bonnie Honig notes that this is arguably the most common romantic mode in which Democracy operates. “Harlequin romances,” says Honig, “trace the transformation of the young heroine’s feelings for the hero from fear into love,” (2003: 110). Approached in this manner, political courtship invariably ends happily; although facing hardship and initially apprehensive of potential suitors, their “preoccup[ation] with ‘getting a man’” wins out (ibid.). This is made easier by the suitors’ honorable intentions, for there is no subterfuge or deception, and “eventually the right match is made and the newly wed couple is sent on its way to try to live happily ever after,” (ibid.: 109). In many ways, Harlequin romances work with the same gendered assumptions as chivalric romances. The struggle is not between the man and woman, but rather the man and “a variety of fantastic antagonists and obstacles,” (Murfin and Ray 2003: 255). The woman’s role in such a struggle is peripheral; she is the object he fights for, but does nothing particularly noteworthy other than show an unwavering devotion for her virtuous hero.

Although not officially sanctioned by Steele’s campaign, the National Black Republican Association (NBRA) created and ran a controversial radio ad in Maryland that perfectly captures my point regarding the problems of Harlequin romance narratives in political courtship. Designed to recruit African American support for Steele, the one-minute radio spot takes the form of two black women having a conversation. “Dr. King was a real man,” says the first woman with admiration, unaware that her mind is about to be blown by her friend. “You know he was a Republican,” the second woman responds. “A Republican?” exclaims the first. Oh yes, answers the second, going on to explain that it was the “Democrats [who] passed those Black Codes and Jim Crow laws, . . . started the Ku Klux Klan, . . . fought ALL Civil Rights Legislation from the 1860’s to the 1960’s, . . . [and] released those vicious dogs and fire hoses on Blacks” (NBRA 2006: n.p., emphasis in original). “Republicans,” on the other hand, “started the NAACP, affirmative action and the HBCUs [Historically Black Colleges and Universities]” (ibid.). The ad concludes with the first of the two women saying that “Democrats have bamboozled Blacks[,] . . . trying to keep us POOR and voting ONLY Democrat” (ibid., emphasis in original).

Steele’s reaction to the ad was reportedly mixed: before he had actually heard it, he said he was happy Republicans were asserting “their real place in history,” but upon hearing the ad, he issued a press release stating that “NBRA’s current radio ad is insulting to Marylanders and should come down immediately. . . . [T]here is no room for this kind of slash-and-burn partisan politics in the important conversation about how to best bring meaningful change to Washington” (Brynaert 2006: n.p.). Steele’s labeling of the ad as “insulting” is spot-on, although for more reasons than his public statement acknowledges: it is premised upon the belief that political party ideologies possess temporal homogeneity; it ignores the events of 1968, which led to the mass departure of Dixiecrats from the Democratic Party to the Republican Party; and, most important to our discussion, it’s operating in a Harlequin romantic mode, and marginalizes African Americans in the process by positioning them as occupying a stereotypically feminine position.

First, the ad is spoken by two women, which is important because they are, quite literally, preoccupied with Dr. King as a ‘real man’, presumably because they feel that ‘real men’ are lacking in their life. The revelation that he was a Republican simultaneously changes the topic toward politics while also directing their gaze to a different group of people where ‘real men’ may be. It is then that the antagonist is introduced in the form of the Democrats, who are responsible for innumerable villainous deeds against African Americans, but who have been resisted at every turn by heroic Republicans such as Dr. King. It is at this moment that the first woman realizes she’s been wrong her whole life; the political partner she believed to be a caring protector—the democrats—have actually been keeping her blind and in a cage of poverty. Initially skeptical, her affections shift toward the Republican Party who founded the NAACP, affirmative action, and the HBCUs. “Democrats have talked the talk,” explains her friend, “but Republicans have walked the walk,” (NBRA 2006: n.p.)

Political courtship written as Harlequin romance is dreadfully offensive, but it is not the only manner in which one may read or write political coalition narratives. Because of the shortcomings of these Harlequin romances—their falsely happy endings which prioritize the masculine position over the feminine—it would be beneficial to consider another mode, proposed by Honig, in which political unions can be read: gothic romance. Within this genre, although “a mysterious foreigner [might] appear on the horizon to rescue these wayward people from their misfortune,” it counts on “the reader’s uncertainty as to whether that apparently rescuing foreigner is really a hero or villain” (Honig 2003: 109). The key element to gothic romance is doubt, which does not mean to suggest that the relationship need be loveless; one can love another without being blind to their machinations.

“What [female gothics] provide us with is not a sense of paralyzing paranoia in the face of monstrous forces beyond our control, nor a clear distinction between the forces of good and evil, but a healthy caution to be wary of authorities and powers that seek to govern us, claiming to know what is in our best interests. From female gothics, we get a valuable exhortation to take matters into our own hands[,] . . . becom[ing] less vulnerable to their husbands (good or bad) because they have learned their powers.” (Honig 2003: 118)

Gothic romance remains gendered in the sense that it acknowledges that one has more power than the other, but it doesn’t suggest that this must or should be so.

Two major examples arise regarding gothic romance, one being Steele’s relationship with the Republican Party, and the other being black voters’ relationships with Steele. “When I disagree with the president,” says Steele, “I stand up and [say] so” (Steele, in Dingle 2006: 109-111¹). “Hurricane Katrina was our [the black community's] 9-11. . . . When President Bush went to New York after the terrorist attacks, he did not just fly over, he got on the ground and met with those affected by the attacks. . . . He should have done the same in New Orleans,” (ibid.). Steele goes on to criticize other aspects of the Republican Party, including “the need to increase the minimum wage . . . and place individuals on the path toward greater earning power” (ibid.). He has also been warned by his friend, Curt Anderson, of the precarious position he and all African Americans occupy in relation to their party affiliations. “By virtue of being a Republican candidate for office,” Steele explains, “there’s an automatic outreach from me to the people,” and this is increased by “being an African American Republican” (Combest 2006: 6). What is important to Steele, however, is that his Republican-ness and his black-ness are distinct; he need not sacrifice one in order to remain the other.

Like the concern that “the increasing number of Blacks [in] the House would undermine the political solidarity of Blacks [by bringing] into Congress diverse views and perspectives, “ the same can be said regarding the rise of Black Republicans (Tate 2004: 109). However, as Steele argued in his 2006 interview in Essence, his candidacy as a Republican is “really about looking more broadly at how a community of people can get the best benefit out of a relationship that has been lopsided,” (Hira 2006: 98). The former Lieutenant Governor of Colorado (and black Republican) Joe Rogers makes a similar argument in support of diversifying Black eggs into multiple party baskets:

“There ought to be no place within American society in which we do not have a presence. And clearly in the context of both political parties in the United States, we have to have not just the presence at the Democratic Party table, but we ought to have a presence at the Republican Party table. That way, our interest are consistently protected as a people regardless of which party is in power.” (Dingle 2006: 106-109)

Based upon Steele’s and Rogers’ stated positions, their support for Republicans is not due to a belief that the party will act as a hero for the African American community, but rather that, within the party, they have the opportunity to equalize a political structure in which blacks are disadvantaged.

Steele continually denies that his nomination “had [any]thing to do with race,” but his rise as the RNC’s first black chairman is noteworthy due to its narrative purpose. What was the Democrats’ moment becomes the nation’s moment when Steele draws the comparison between himself and Obama: “[h]aving a black president of the United States and a black leader of the opposition is a wonderful testament to our country,” (Lawrence 2009: 6a). Unfortunately for the GOP, however, the Democratic Party can employ a similar, ’steal the moment’ tactic in regards to any legislative efforts designed to woo African Americans in the next election. Due to the party’s minority status, there is very little the Republican Party can do in the way of legislation that would woo African Americans, for there is little they could take credit for; if the Democrats vote in support of Republican-drafted legislation, it becomes a bipartisan, national achievement, removing the sought after feather from the GOP’s cap. A legislative competition for the affection of black voters could be extremely lucrative, politically speaking, for the African American community, but this can only happen as long as both parties believe their efforts could be successful. Keeping two parties equally enticed is a difficult prospect.

While Steele’s position as RNC chairman is an important symbolic step of the Republican Party, the fact that Katon Dawson was his primary competition—a member of a whites-only country club until just before he announced his candidacy for the chairmanship—demonstrates just how far the party has to go to rid African Americans of their (warranted) distrust for the GOP. Republicans have done very little over the last forty years to earn anything but suspicion from blacks. As one of the few high-profile black Republicans in the country, Steele is best positioned to serve as a descriptive representative of the black community despite the fact that he steadfastly holds that his chairmanship had nothing to do with race. What it did have something to do with, according to Steele, is building a bridge between Republicans and (unnamed) other groups. “What the party cares about right now is coalition building and grassroots and getting our message out[, a]nd they felt I was the best person for that,” (Nelson 2009: 98). This has not spared him, however, from allegations of being an ‘oreo’—a derogatory slang for those who are racially black but culturally white. The “healthy caution” Honig supports appears to be in abundance.

Unlike the previous two romantic modes discussed, the last of the romantic modes is exemplified by a stock character—the rake—in romantic literature. Traditionally, rakes act as the antithesis to chivalric protagonists, and are immoral, aristocratic figures who use their wealth and charm to woo virtuous young women, usually impregnating them before pursuing another sexual conquest. The female equivalent to the rake, the coquette, is an attractive but non-committal woman who flirts with men in order to gain their favor. It is not my intent to apply these stock character traits to those who engage in political courtship; to do so would be highly tendentious of me and largely unproductive in its returns. What I wish to point out, however, is that the American political structure lends itself particularly well to such behavior, possibly even rewarding it. Before this line of thought is pursued, it would be beneficial to more fully outline the defining characteristics of rakes and coquettes, and so I will turn to a classic, early American novel that is sympathetic to, although not encouraging of, the feminine position in courtship: Hannah W. Foster’s The Coquette.

The Coquette is an epistolary novel following the life of Eliza Wharton who, upon the death of her fiance, returns to “the busy scenes and active pleasures” of social life (Foster 1986: 7). She meets a young gentleman named Mr. Boyer, who begins courting Eliza with the intention of marrying her. Shortly thereafter another man, Major Sanford, enters the picture, and attempts to woo Eliza as well. Her friends favor Boyer, believing Sanford to be a rake (which is confirmed by Sanford’s correspondence with a friend), but Eliza does not wish to marry anyone. “Marriage is the tomb of friendship,” Eliza explains to her friend Lucy, in which “former acquaintances are neglected or forgotten[, t]he tenderest ties between friends are weakened, or dissolved[,] and benevolence itself moves in a very limited sphere,” (ibid.: 24). Eventually, Boyer gives up on Eliza, calling her a coquette. No longer challenged by competition over Eliza’s time and affection, Sanford disappears, only to return some time later married to another woman. Even married, however, Sanford does not stop pursuing Eliza, continually expressing the deepest affection for her until she finally succumbs, gets pregnant, and flees her home, only to die in childbirth “far from every friend” (ibid.: 169).

One may notice multiple similarities between this story and the behavior exhibited by Republicans in an effort to woo black voters. A disturbing reality may very well be that, despite the wishes of certain Republicans such as Steele, there may be no serious desire in much of the Republican Party to win the black vote and support black interests. In the opinion of Ron Walters, the director of the African American Leadership Institute, the Republican Party has no wish to win the African American demographic; “traditionally, the strategy has been to try to get a sliver of the Black vote,” for “if they could get at least 15% of [it] then they can cut into enough close races and cost the Democrats the victory,” (Dingle 2006: 105-108). If Walters is correct, the GOP has no intention of ‘marrying’ African Americans, and instead simply wish to sully their relationship with the Democratic Party. From a standpoint of personal interest, it makes the most sense due to limited party resources; why do anything more than the bare minimum if all one needs to do is disrupt the voting behavior of a demographic?

While I’ve reserved my comments to Republicans due to their high-profile attempts at political courtship in recent months, I do not mean to suggest that Democrats are innocent or appropriately represent their African American constituents. Steele and other black Republicans are probably right in their belief that the Democratic Party takes the black vote for granted. If The Coquette stands as a decent allegory of political courtship, however, African Americans stand to lose the most from this game. The gentlemanly Boyer abandons Eliza for a more submissive bride, and the rakish Sanford only seeks to manipulate Eliza into sex without extending the relative security provided by a marital union. Such a situation inevitably leads to coquettish behavior, for the black community—or any minority group, for that matter—cannot afford to lock themselves into a relationship; doing so would provide no guarantees that their interests will be pursued. The Congressional Black Caucus’s motto is arguably most revealing of this point, for “Black people have no permanent friends, no permanent enemies . . . just permanent interests,” (Tate 2004: 105).

Both the Harlequin and gothic romantic models we’ve examined come together in this final example of romance. On the one hand, there is the possibility of a chivalric masculine figure who will protect the weak so long as the weak accept a submissive role, and on the other hand there is the possibility of untrustworthy monsters who one cannot feel safe from no matter how cautious one is. Stuck between the two options is an independent figure who wants nothing to do with either, but grudgingly accepts that such a decision must be made if they are to remain a participant within the institution. The problem is not that one party is the former while the other is the latter; nor is it that both parties are unconsciously chauvinistic or deliberately selfish. The problem is that abstract institutions in which members come and go don’t have collective personalities, meaning that both parties have the capability to be either or both at any point in time. Those minorities who seek inclusion within the political system have no reliable way to incorporate themselves into the political process without placing themselves at risk, and so long as this is the case, there will remain such a thing as ‘black interests’ which are separate from traditional party politics. I, too, “recoil at the thought of . . . forming a connection, which must confine me to the duties of domestic life, and make me dependent for happiness,” (Foster 1986: 29). If remaining single is to work, however, it will require close friends.

Works Cited

Brynaert, Ron. 2006. “Black Republican group’s ad accuses Dems of starting KKK, claims MLK was Republican,” The Raw Story. Site: www.rawstory.com/news/2006/Black_Republican_groups_radio_ad_accuses_0921.html.

Combest, Kevin. 2006. “Steele Brings Common Sense to Maryland Senate Race,” Human Events, 62(33), p1, p6. Retrieved May 11, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

Dingle, Derek T., Hyacinth B. Carbon and Tennille M. Robinson. 2006. “Rise of the Black Republicans?,” Black Enterprise, 37(4), p100-114. Retrieved May 11, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

Fauntroy, Michael K.. 2008. “Afros and Elephants: Black Republican Candidates Running Statewide in 2006,” Western Journal of Black Studies, 32(2), p41-50. Retrieved May 11, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

Foster, Hannah W.. 1986. The Coquette. Intro. Cathy N. Davidson. Oxford University Press, New York and Oxford. Paperback, 169p.

Hira, Nadira. 2006. “The Right Stuff?,” Essence, 36(11), p98. Retrieved May 11, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

Honig, Bonnie. 2003. “The Genres of Democracy,” Democracy and the Foreigner. Princeton University Press, Princeton and Oxford. Paperback, 204p.

Lawrence, Jill. 2009. “RNC’s new chair comes out swinging,” USA Today, February 2, 2009, News, 06a. Retrieved May 11, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

Murfin, Ross, and Supryia M. Ray. 2003. The Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms, Second Edition. Bedford/St. Martin’s, Boston and New York. 540p.

National Black Republican Association (NBRA). 2006. “Groundbreaking Radio Ad Released by Black Republican Group.” NBRA Press Release, September 7, 2006. Site: www.nationalblackrepublicans.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=pages.PressReleaseRadioAd&tp_preview=true. Last Accessed May 12, 2009.

Nelson, Sophia A. 2009. “Fade to Black,” Essence, 39(12), p98. Retrieved May 11, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

Tate, Katherine. 2004. Black Faces in the Mirror: African Americans and Their Representatives in the U.S. Congress. Princeton University Press, Princeton and Oxford. Paperback, 213p.

Wickham, DeWayne. 2009. “Steele the right guy to pull GOP out of its nose dive,” USA Today, February 3, 2009, News, 11a. Retrieved May 11, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

1Due to the failure to number all pages of this article and the fact that it does not take up consecutive pages within the magazine, I am unable to verify the exact page number. I am able to deduce, however, that it falls somewhere between pages 105-108. All citations from this source that span four pages can be attributed to this problem.