Young is the last surviving member of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s inner circle. I had the good fortune of serving on the Atlanta City Council when Young was mayor, alongside his fiery civil rights counterpart Hosea Williams.
During a panel discussion following a recent screening of the documentary at Clark Atlanta University, Maddow, Al Sharpton and the Atlanta empowerment entrepreneur John Hope Bryant shared the stage with Young to discuss, among other things, his role fighting for the passage of the Voting Rights Act in 1965. Sharpton reminded the elected officials in attendance that were it not for the sacrifices of Young and others, they might not be holding office today.
The movie brings Young out from King’s shadow and allows even those of us who knew him to see him in a new light. I had always viewed him as moderate, conciliatory almost to a fault and somewhat aloof. As mayor, he often delegated the nuts and bolts of governance to trusted aides such as Shirley Franklin, who became Atlanta’s first woman mayor in 2002.
In my forthcoming personal history of Atlanta politics, I write that initially “neither Williams nor Young showed a genuine interest in governing. I believe those who served on the frontlines of the civil rights movement spent so many years fighting the powers that be that, once inside, they had trouble realizing that they were now the powers that be.” But what once seemed like a lack of interest in governance I now see as Young’s remarkable willingness to rely on and empower capable advisers — just as King had relied on him.
That doesn’t mean Young wasn’t ready to put in hard work. He understood the importance of pacing oneself. He and I used to break away from City Hall at lunchtime some days to play a set or two of tennis. Young believed that exercise at midday energized us and allowed us to work a few hours longer at the end of the day. It was not uncommon for either of us to leave work at 9 or 10 p.m.
I first met Young in 1974 as a graduate student at a forum sponsored by Atlanta University (now Clark Atlanta University), when he was serving in Congress and students and faculty criticized him for not supporting calls for divestment from South Africa. Before he left Congress and became the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, he came around to supporting economic sanctions against the apartheid regime. At the forum, though, he bristled at the criticisms he received, saying, “Now we’re trying to tell each other how to do each other’s job. I don’t tell you how to teach political science; you shouldn’t tell me how to be a legislator.” His response momentarily disarmed the room, but it also revealed his sensitivity to criticism, a personality trait that often made him butt heads with fellow civil rights leaders like Williams or city employees demanding raises.
Overall, Maddow’s documentary succeeds in redefining Young’s role and showing how his civil rights experience shaped his service as a congressman, United Nations ambassador and mayor. Still, it might have been stronger had it acknowledged legitimate criticisms that humanized him, beyond the well-known controversy concerning his unauthorized meeting with a representative of the Palestine Liberation Organization that led to his departure from his U.N. post.
Many admirers of iconic figures, when telling their stories, resist showing their blemishes, fearing it diminishes their greatness. I disagree. If young leaders are to learn from the old guard, they must see them as real human beings — capable of contradiction, imperfection and growth.
As my wife and I watched the documentary, we struggled to hold back tears. We were struck by Young’s courage and willingness to face death on many occasions, particularly during his time visiting apartheid South Africa. What we don’t find often in today’s elected officials is Young’s type of courage. “He’s lucky to have survived it,” I told her — and he said as much in the film.
I often wonder what motivates today’s generation of public officials — those shaped, for example, by hip-hop culture or third-wave feminism, those who were born without a defining social movement like civil rights or women’s liberation. What gives them purpose? What calls them to service?
There are timeless lessons in Young’s life for them. For him, public service was indeed a calling, not a career path. Yet through it all, Andrew Young never shied away from the dangerous, unglamorous, unappreciated work — the “dirty work” — that leadership so often requires.
Governing’s opinion columns reflect the views of their authors and not necessarily those of Governing’s editors or management.
