Aside from that, the event had an African-American nationalist flavor, with the red, black and green flags of black nationalism lifted up in many hands and clusters of women floating by in the head-to-foot coverings mandated by some sects of Islam. Pictures of Farrakhan were everywhere, on buttons, T-shirts and the ubiquitous event posters that featured what seems to be the one Nation of Islam-approved pose for him: looking skyward, smiling broadly, eyes shielded by the sunglasses he wears day and night.
And that's how he looked at the podium. After a Farrakhan biopic, complete with booming classical music, ran on the half-dozen projection screens scattered about the Mall, the man himself mounted the stage, the Capitol dome rising behind him. He graciously thanked Moon, along with several African-American celebrities -- rap mogul Russell Simmons, as well as power couples like Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown and Will and Jada Pinkett Smith. He then launched into a two-hour sermon covering everything from rap lyrics to abortion to this year's presidential race.
When he did talk politics, he kept partisanship at bay, only hinting at support for Al Gore and the Democratic ticket. However, his rhetoric resembled that of George W. Bush more than any other presidential candidate. As the GOP had in its convention, Farrakhan urged blacks to drop their automatic loyalty to the Democratic Party, scolding that "you have been too good to those who lie and deceive you" in political office. Like the Republicans, he called for a cleanup of gangsta rap lyrics and sent a pro-life message that asked women to remember that the "womb is a sacred space."
Other parts of Farrakhan's message echoed the Green Party's Ralph Nader, with several slams against the wastefulness of government programs that fatten the pockets of corporations. He even picked up the Nader line that the two major party presidential candidates were exactly the same -- but with a Pat Buchanan pitchfork twist, saying a choice between Gore and Bush is like a choice between "Beelzebub and the devil." Still he strongly urged his audience to register and vote, despite the demonically limited range of possibilities, and said that people power could be used to sway whichever candidate. "Even the devil will do good under the gun," he said.
But what gun was Farrakhan under that he would veer so sharply from his borderline black separatist philosophy to embrace multiculturalism? As he reminded the crowd, which once broke into chants of "Farrakhan for president," he's no politician. He doesn't need votes from the whites he'd vilified in the past, and blacks who have supported him have done so without a push for inclusion.
Some who gathered to hear him speak admitted there was a difference between some of Farrakhan's earlier speeches, though not necessarily a distinction. "He was definitely toned down," said Cabral Riddle, a Washingtonian in his 20s. "But if I said he was saying something different this time than what he said before, that would be saying he didn't tell the truth. And he always tells the truth."
At least one of his supporters, Ohio resident Sylvia Johnson, spoke out in favor of the old Farrakhan. "I always thought of him as having a 'separate but equal' message, and that his emphasis was on the black family," said Johnson. "Now he says that race isn't really as big a factor as it used to be." Is that the case? "He's entitled to his opinion," replied Johnson.
Farrakhan himself, however, was unwavering in his optimism about his dream of his multiracial, multiethnic coalition. "Before me, I see a coat of many colors," Farrakhan said. "I went to my tailor and tried it on." We'll see how long it fits.
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