Bill Clinton was a charismatic Southern governor — extraordinarily at ease around nonwhite people and possessing a preternatural social sensibility — who became a remarkable president. He knew how to make people feel positive and hopeful, to make them feel seen and heard.
He was a gifted politician, a once-in-a-generation kind of prodigy, and many liberals adored him for it.
But Clinton's record, particularly with respect to Black and brown Americans and the poor, was marked by catastrophic miscalculation. It was characterized by tacking toward a presumed middle — "triangulation," the administration called it — which on some levels, abandoned and betrayed the minority base that so heavily supported him.
Two major pieces of Clinton-signed legislation stand out: The crime bill of 1994 and the welfare reform bill of 1996.
I view the crime bill as disastrous. It flooded the streets with police officers and contributed to the rise of mass incarceration, which disproportionately impacts Black men and their families. It helped to drain Black communities of fathers, uncles, husbands, partners and sons.
A 2015 New York Times Upshot analysis of 2010 census data found that there were 1.5 million "missing" Black men between the ages of 25 and 54, comparing the totals of Black men and women who were not incarcerated. According to the report: "Using census data, we estimated that about 625,000 prime-age Black men were imprisoned, compared with 45,000 Black women. This gap — of 580,000 — accounts for more than one-third of the overall gap."
It continued: "It is the result of sharply different incarceration rates for Black men and any other group. The rate for prime-age Black men is 8.2%, compared with 1.6% for nonblack men, 0.5% for Black women and 0.2% for nonblack women."
The 2010 figure is just a snapshot in time. It doesn't fully account for the decades of destruction wreaked by the crime bill.