The Columbus Dispatch

Repair Voting Rights Act to honor Rep. John Lewis

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had proposed.

Lewis complied, just enough, and the crowd on the Washington Mall loved it anyway. "By the force of our demands, our determinat­ion and our numbers," he said, "we shall splinter the segregated South into a thousand pieces and put them together in the image of God and democracy. We must say: 'Wake up, America. Wake up!' For we cannot stop, and we will not and cannot be patient."

Watching history unfold on our family TV as a high school student, I found a new purpose for my life. I became interested in journalism. As James Baldwin said he learned in church, I wanted to "bear witness to the truth."

"Now, later on, you wonder what in the world the truth is," Baldwin also said, "but you do know what a lie is."

So did Lewis. With other movement members, he pushed Americans to live up to our best ideals of ourselves. He survived a brutal assault by Ku Klux Klansmen and more than 40 arrests at protests. In 1965, as he defiantly tried to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, with fellow marchers for voting rights, a state trooper's billy club would fracture his skull.

Yes, he had a right to be angry and he was not alone. After the 1964 Civil

Rights Act and the 1965 Voting Rights Act were passed, a newer and angrier "Black Power" movement broke out in 1966, sparked by Stokely Carmichael and other Student Nonviolent Coordinati­ng Committee leaders who succeeded Lewis.

Over time, Lewis, who had been seen by many moderates as perhaps too "militant," gained a new reputation as a skilled peacemaker and unifier who could help fierce opponents find common ground.

He went to Congress, but he never fully left the streets. His last public appearance, appropriat­ely enough, was with District of Columbia Mayor Muriel Bowser at the dedication of a "Black Lives Matter" mural on the 16th Street pavement that leads directly to the White House two blocks south.

As a memorial to how much his Black life mattered, a growing number of people have proposed renaming Selma's Edmund Pettus Bridge — now named for a U.S. senator, Confederat­e general and KKK leader — after Lewis.

But Black Democrats, including Sen. Kamala Harris of California and House Majority Whip James Clyburn of South Carolina, came out late Sunday with a better idea: Pass "the John R. Lewis

Voting Rights Act of 2020."

"Words may be powerful," Clyburn said, "but deeds are lasting."

Indeed. In perhaps the biggest pushback to voting rights since Reconstruc­tion, the Supreme Court in 2013 struck down a provision in the original 1965 law. That provision forced particular jurisdicti­ons, mostly in the South, to report any changes in voting laws to the Justice Department for "preclearan­ce" approval.

Lewis and others successful­ly passed a bill in the Democratic-controlled House last year that would' have reinstated federal oversight of state election laws, but Majority Leader Mitch Mcconnell has not brought a similar bill to the Senate floor.

Allegation­s of voting discrimina­tion through new state laws have gone up since the high court's decision, but the Department of Justice has done less to challenge those laws, according to the federal Commission on Civil Rights. There could hardly be a more fitting tribute to John Lewis' memory than to fix those enforcemen­t shortfalls — fast!

Clarence Page is a member of the Chicago Tribune Editorial Board. cpage@chicagotri­bune.com

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