A simple question for Cornel West

Anyone who has read the letters page of the Princeton Alumni Weekly over the past year knows that Professor Cornel West's widely publicized arrival at Princeton has not been entirely well-received. And, understandably, West has not answered the assortment of criticisms directed at him.

For those like myself, encouraged by West's ability to energize students but skeptical of his public advocacy, this is frustrating. Which is exactly why I recommend to similar observers a new approach: Honing in on specific, substantive aspects of West's public writings and asking for explanations.

In this spirit, I intend to put forth a simple, but important, question for him.

In "The African-American Century," which West coauthored two years ago with Henry Louis Gates, Jr. at Harvard, he sought to honor the 100 "most influential African-Americans" of the 20th century. Honoring the most influential, of course, entails the dangerous task — particularly for two prominent scholars — of leaving out worthy candidates. Indeed, the list is interesting for its most conspicuous absence. Amidst the tributes to Jesse Jackson, Spike Lee and Tiger Woods, no mention is made of Justice Clarence Thomas. My question: Why?

Recall that this has nothing to do with benevolence; "influential" is the operative word. In this light, any plausible explanation for excluding one of the century's two black members of the Supreme Court, whose divisive confirmation hearings themselves will have reverberations for decades, is bound to be interesting. Plus, virtually every conceivable rationale for rejecting Thomas — except an incredibly insulting one — is inconsistent with other choices made in the book.

Could the criteria for "influential" established by West demand the exclusion of jurists? Quite the opposite. West notes that he endeavored to "walk a thin line" by not overstating the role of athletics and entertainment in black achievement, attempting instead to highlight the accomplishments of those involved in the democratization of America. Several honorees, frankly, are a tad suspicious in the "democratic" context propounded by West. Louis Farrakhan, who has referred to white people as "potential humans" and whose anti-Semitism is well-documented, is listed. Thomas, the former head of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, is not. Why?

Could it be that West wanted to recognize Thomas, but was constrained by the difficulty of choosing a mere hundred from the wealth of excellent possibilities? Not according to West. In the introduction to "The African-American Century," he acknowledges the "many towering figures who belong in this book but do not appear," mentioning ten by name — none of them begin with Clarence or end with Thomas. Harry Belafonte, now infamous for calling Colin Powell a "house slave," is mentioned. Mary Frances Berry, who compared Governor Jeb Bush to Pontius Pilate after the 2000 presidential elections, gets a nod. Yet West hasn't even bothered to footnote Thomas' prominence in national politics. Again, why?

Let's skip to the most plausible explanation: Is Thomas' affiliation with the Republican Party grounds for the omission? In the book, West preempts this charge by commenting on the importance of 20th century blacks "of whatever political persuasion." To his credit, West includes self-reliance advocate Booker T. Washington and Republican-leaning writer Zora Neale Hurston in the top 100, which suggests that ideological leanings alone were insufficient to cause exclusion.

Fans of Thomas are left miffed by the blatant disregard for Thomas' lifetime achievement — his childhood ability to transcend abject conditions in the Jim Crow South, his graduation from top academic institutions, his career as a high-powered public servant and his principled attacks on racial quota systems.

Only by scouring through West's past writings does a more troubling possibility emerge. In an essay on Thomas' Senate confirmation hearings published in "Race-ing Justice, Engendering Power," a collection of works edited by Princeton's Toni Morrison, West traps himself in the language of authentic "blackness."

The essay has two tiers: At the surface, West thoughtfully criticizes the language of racial authenticity, arguing that skin color is not itself a qualification for a Supreme Court post.

Just below this tier, however, is a deep distaste for Thomas, whom he calls an "exemplary hedonist," a man whose "undeniably black phenotype" has been "degraded by racist ideals of beauty." After deriding claims to blackness, West proposes an equally dangerous substitute for the term: "Mature black identity." Like the notion of black authenticity, it identifies particular qualities in the black community by which black leaders must be judged. West never defines these qualities, but demands that they be based on "black self-love," "black dignity and decency" and "black self-respect." These terms, once more, are never explained, but it becomes clear from his writing that conservatives like Thomas cannot embody them. And, as if there were any question at this point, West emphasizes that "mere pigmentation" is not sufficient. Back to square one.

Get the best of the ‘Prince’ delivered straight to your inbox. Subscribe now »

West is not lacking for distinguished company. Harvard scholar Lani Guinier, a Clinton Attorney General nominee, is more explicit about the need to "authenticate" the blackness of public figures. Former U.S. Transportation Secretary Rodney Slater summarized this thinking while inducting — ahem — Bill Clinton into the Arkansas Black Hall of Fame: "It's not about the skin."

Certainly, Thomas is a prime target for charges of this intellectual ilk: Epithets about his "blackness" are regularly tossed around in powerful circles. Members of the ACLU's Hawaii chapter recently disinvited Thomas to a debate on affirmative action, one remarking that it would be like having "Hitler speak on the rights of Jews"; activists near Thomas' hometown lobbied against funding a library with his namesake, calling him a "Benedict Arnold"; and, for the past six years, Ebony magazine has rejected Thomas for its annual list of influential African-Americans. (One pundit, whom West has called "the most provocative, progressive and iconoclastic public intellectual in the country," has acknowledged Thomas' blackness, but only in wishing that "his wife feeds him lots of eggs and butter and he dies early, like many black men do, of heart disease.")

Yet even this explanation begs questions. Why, if blackness is conceptual rather than genetic, does West not credit non-black figures for their achievements on behalf of the black community? (A likely nominee for such an award might be the racially flexible Clinton, that exemplary anti-hedonist, who Morrison has lauded as our first "black president.")

Only West can resolve these queries and their disturbing implications. So, Professor West: Why did you exclude Clarence Thomas from "The African-American Century?" Brad Simmons is a politics major from San Jose, Calif. He can be reached at bmsimmon@princeton.edu.