The EconomistAugust 22nd 2020 United States 252
1versity. (That matters: rising higher-educa-
tion rates best explain why the earnings of
top-paid African-Americans have kept
climbing in the past half century, even as
those of most black workers steadily fell.)
Almost everyone goes on to thrive profes-
sionally. “They are pretty much at the top of
wherever they go,” she says.
Her outfit, as any rich club must, does
plenty of charity work. This year its mem-
bers helped to pay for 247 needy students to
finish college, she says. It also promotes
civic duties, the virtue of voting and the
benefits of a sound financial education.
That is all worthy—but in contrast to the
occasionally riotous efforts of Black Lives
Matter (blm) activists, it can look terrifical-
ly staid. At its “cotillion” dances demure
teenagers, in white Cinderella ball gowns,
vie to deliver the deepest curtsy as pearl-
wearing older ladies look on.
Not all alumni are relaxed talking of
their past. Few politicians brag of belong-
ing to an elite group. Cory Booker, a senator
from New Jersey, rarely brings up his
youthful time in Jack and Jill. Don’t expect
Ms Harris, member of a similarly august
group of women volunteers, The Links Inc,
to mention it on the stump. Yet many of the
most radical leaders or their children—in-
cluding those of Malcolm xand of Mr Lee—
had links to Jack and Jill or similar outfits.
How do high-society African-Ameri-
cans respond to upheavals from the co-
vid-19 pandemic, killings by police, and
blm protests of recent months? For Mrs
Brown, blm is “representative of the civil-
rights movement, with a new name”. She
praises protesters for their “vigilance” and
for stirring public—including white—con-
cern over matters that were previously ig-
nored. But blm, in her view, is just one of a
“wonderful plethora” of groups, clubs, so-
rorities, voter-registration outfits and
charities: “We need different people doing
different things.”
Lerry Knox, a wealthy Chicagoan who
runs an international infrastructure-in-
vestment fund, and Farissa Knox, who runs
an ad agency, also in Chicago, see it in a
similar light. The ongoing blm debate
“over white supremacy” is welcome. “I sup-
port what blmis doing. It’s a narrative that
needs to be spoken,” says Mrs Knox. But the
couple prefer to invest their personal funds
and time in local groups that educate black
residents on the benefits of completing
census forms, sitting for jury duty and, es-
pecially, registering to vote. Structural
changes, they say, will come from institu-
tions, including the companies they lead,
or from judicial reform and getting new
people elected to office. Rage voiced on the
streets can dissipate fast.
Yet even the wealthiest align with street
protesters in their fury over threats and ha-
rassment from police. Mr Knox is blunt
about the risks any African-American manfacesinpublic.MrGrahamrecountsbeing
stoppedandhoundedbya plainclothespo-
licemannearhishome,whilecollecting
hisdaughterfromschool—eventhoughhe
was the chairman of his county police
board.Hedescribeshowrichblackfam-
ilies,onmovingintomostlywhiteneigh-
bourhoods,learntovisitlocalpolicesta-
tionstohandoutphotosoftheirfamilies,
inanefforttostaveofftrouble.“Wehaveto
beproactive,”hesays.“Itisabsolutelyde-
meaningtoactinthisway,butwehavetoo
manystoriesofwhathappenswhenyou
don’t.Don’tassumewe’veboughtourway
outofthistreatment.” 7MoreDowntonthandowntownF
or twentyyears Elaine Luria sailed the
seas with America’s navy, rising to the
rank of commander. In January 2019, two
years after retiring, she entered the House
of Representatives as a member for Virgin-
ia’s 2nd district, one of 96 ex-servicemen
and -women in the 116th Congress. Veter-
ans like Ms Luria remain over-represented
in politics—they make up 7% of the adult
population but nearly three times that
share of Congress—but their numbers have
dwindled over the years. That reflects elec-
toral attitudes to military service that are
more ambivalent than America’s esteem
for veterans might suggest.
For much of American history, soldiers
have dominated the country’s legislative
branch. The first Congress, in 1789, was
stacked with veterans of the revolutionarywar: almost three in five of its members
had fought in that conflict or previous
ones. In the 20th century, a steady succes-
sion of wars in Europe, Korea and Vietnam,
fuelled by a national draft, supplied an
even larger stream of lawmakers with mil-
itary experience. Between 1965 and 1975,
seven out of every ten members of both
houses were veterans, rising to four-fifths
of the Senate in the latter year.
Their ranks have thinned ever since.
Veterans lost their majority status in the
House at the turn of the 1990s and in the
Senate a decade later. Today 18% of the
House and 19% of the Senate have done
military service. Veterans are now comfort-
ably outnumbered by lawyers, bankers and
business folk, having once dwarfed them.
The obvious explanation for this reversal
of fortunes is that, with the end of the draft
in 1973 and a shrinking army, there are few-
er veterans to elect. There were over 26m of
them in 2000 (13% of the adult population);
now there are 18m (7%). But their share of
seats in Congress has fallen even faster
than their share of the population.
Part of the answer is that women, who
entered Congress in growing numbers
from the late 1980s, are under-represented
in the armed forces, making up just 16.5%
of the army. Another factor is that the cost
of a campaign has spiralled over the years,
says Rebecca Burgess of the American En-
terprise Institute, a think-tank. And be-
cause today’s soldiers and sailors tend to
run for office more quickly after leaving
service than their counterparts who served
in Vietnam, this can leave them with weak-
er networks. Though Ms Luria represents a
navy-dominated district of Virginia in
which she put down roots 20 years ago, she
points out that many of her globetrotting
peers might find it harder to feel the call of
service to a particular community.
When veterans do run for office, their
service is respected but not necessarily re-
warded. In surveys, the public are consid-
erably more enthusiastic about the idea of
a veteran candidate than about business
executives or religious leaders, according
to Jeremy Teigen of Ramapo College of New
Jersey. But studies by Mr Teigen show that
these feelings wane at the ballot box.
In the first post-9/11 elections for the
House of Representatives, in 2002, veteran
Democrats collected just 2% more of the
vote than non-veteran Democrats, even
when accounting for other factors. In 2006
veteran Republicans took 1.3% more of the
vote than non-veteran Republicans. At the
last mid-terms in 2018, veterans had no
edge at all. Notably, every combat veteran
running for the presidency since 1990 has
lost, sometimes to draft dodgers.
That might be seen as a welcome devel-
opment. In June, Mike Mullen, a former
chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, la-
mented that “too many foreign and domes-War heroes no longer dominate
American politics as they once didVeterans in politicsOld soldiers