Rethinking Black Leadership.(role of African American executives)

No one can pinpoint exactly when the ground shifted, when it became possible for a black American male to join the gods of the corporate universe. Like the moment when darkness yields to dawn, it crept up quietly, largely unperceived. We awakened and a new day had come. But if we must mark our awareness of that day's arrival, put down Jan. 1, 1999, the day Franklin Raines took over as chairman and CEO of the Federal National Mortgage Association, becoming the first African- American to head a major American corporation. Since then few have fared as well. A. Barry Rand was named head of Avis in 1999 but did not survive the transfer of ownership in 2001. Lloyd Ward lasted little more than a year at Maytag before walking away amid reports of conflict with his board. But last year the ground shifted again, and suddenly it became less lonely at the top, as three black men prepared to take their place at the pinnacle of some of America's most important companies.

Kenneth Chenault is now the head man at American Express. And Stanley O'Neal and Richard Parsons will soon assume the reins of Merrill Lynch and AOL Time Warner, respectively. As miracles go, this corporate trifecta does not exactly rank with the parting of the sea. But that a group of talented executives who are also black could so nonchalantly take the reins of three huge companies says something important about the expansion of opportunity (at least for a few) in an arena that, until very recently, might as well have hung blacks not allowed signs on the door. And it's not just the corporate world that is embracing authority figures who happen to be black. Washington has grown accustomed to seeing the president take foreign-policy lessons from two African-Americans. Daytime television is filled with black judges, telling folks of all colors how to live their lives. Indeed, there is no major area of American life these days where society is not coming to terms with a new black leadership class--one whose very existence raises questions about the "black leadership" model of old.

Under the old model, a handful of leaders (virtually all male and generally preachers--but often politicians, educators or some fusion of the three) supposedly represented the black community. In recent decades, as blacks conquered new realms, thanks in large measure to the civil-rights movement, the very idea that one person (or handful of "leaders") could speak on all matters for entire racial groups has begun to seem increasingly silly. So even as the Rev. Al Sharpton maneuvers in the apparent hope of replacing the Rev. Jesse Jackson as black leader numero uno, it becomes less and less clear just what the title represents. For never before have blacks spoken with so many voices. And in that diversity lies both opportunity and confusion.

The confusion stems in part from uncertainty over just how to classify many of the members of this new leadership class. Are they "black leaders," or are they something else? Corporate leaders whose color is irrelevant? Political leaders who happen to have mostly black constituencies? And whom exactly do they speak for, other than themselves? When U.S. Rep. Harold Ford of Tennessee insists on being seen as a leader rather than a "black" leader, does that represent progress? Or is he simply signaling his intention to abandon the "black community" in pursuit of personal ambitions?

There is much about this debate that is uniquely American. For no other country, including South Africa, has a racial history as tortured as that of the United States. Indeed, while much of the world insists that race is totally immaterial, America's legacy of slavery, civil war and legalized segregation (which culminated in a globally celebrated movement for black empowerment) makes it impossible to ignore the ...