Opinion | Harry Truman wasn't perfect, but Executive Order 9981 made progress

On July 26, 1948, President Harry S. Truman signed one of the most consequential documents of the 20th century. Executive Order 9981 desegregated the military years before the Supreme Court or Congress began dismantling Jim Crow in earnest. Truman decided to take this action as reports of beatings and lynchings of Black veterans reached the Oval Office after World War II. He was especially moved by the blinding of Isaac Woodard, a uniformed Black soldier who was accosted by police in South Carolina just hours after an honorable discharge and beaten until his eyes failed forever. Truman signed the order at the urging of civil rights activists, on the counsel of his political strategists and despite objections from the military’s leadership. The stroke of Truman’s pen quickened the nation’s transformation.

A fair question on this 75th anniversary is: Why? What was Truman’s motivation? He was no lifelong proponent of racial equality; his support for desegregation was neither a foregone conclusion nor a policy priority when he assumed office. More than a few political historians, citing the Truman campaign’s strategy outlined in what’s known as the “Clifford memo,” contend that his action was calculated to sway the Black voters he needed to win the 1948 election. Or, given the race riots occurring in the country, perhaps he signed the order to quell domestic tensions. Most likely, it was some combination of influences: electoral expedience, political pragmatism and evolving personal views.

Michele Norris: The U.S. military integrated 75 years ago. Apologies are still in order.

Another question, however, interests me more. Does his motivation matter? Truman signed the order — isn’t that enough? I, like thousands of others, have earned benefits from the GI Bill, a VA loan and a reliable pension system. Those things were largely withheld from Black people before Truman’s executive order ushered in two decades of civil rights reforms. Should we lose sleep over whether Truman desegregated the military just to win an election, or, God forbid, whether he was racist “in his heart”?

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Most Americans would say no. We like to believe that we are a practical people, that policy matters more to us than party or personality. In reality, with low trust in government and partisan identity playing an increasingly important role in many lives, policy often takes a back seat.

An example: Months before the 2020 election, I asked my graduate students whether they would support politicians of the opposite party, despite their differences, if they saw eye to eye on their most important policy goal. Most claimed to be open to the idea. But when I attached specifics, everything changed. I asked a pro-reparations student about supporting Republicans if Donald Trump were to establish a presidential commission to study reparations. “Nope.” A defense-hawk student burst out laughing when asked whether he would support Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) if she championed a Ronald Reagan-style national security policy.

Our assessment of character matters in politics because much of a leader’s record is determined by unforeseen problems and issues that spontaneously arise. The way the leader responds won’t be spelled out in a campaign speech or policy paper. In those unplanned moments where character is decisive, we rise and fall as a nation.

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Yet, in the world of public policy, sometimes we can’t let perfect be the enemy of the good. Sometimes doing the right thing is more important than having the right reason for doing it. And on the biggest policy questions where we must choose one, we often choose to accept wins over purity. Our willingness to do so, however, usually hinges on our perception of the person’s character. Abraham Lincoln entertained deporting enslaved people before signing the most consequential executive order in U.S. history in the Emancipation Proclamation. I’ll take the win. Truman had some vulgar language for people of color before he became a senator who supported anti-lynching and anti-poll-tax legislation. I’ll take the win. Lyndon B. Johnson’s off-color language paired with his signing the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965? I’ll take the win.

Better to do that than to wait until the soul has been converted. To paraphrase the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., the law can’t make you love me, but it can hinder your ability to lynch me. “While legislation may not change the hearts of men,” King said, finishing the thought, “it does change the habits of men.”

Perhaps that’s what matters most — the capacity to change. In this regard, Truman was the perfect president to propel a national evolution on race. His ancestors in Kentucky and Missouri were avowed Confederates who wished the Union had lost. He carried resonances of those racial attitudes into adulthood. Yet he wasn’t imprisoned in them. He came to support civil rights before he had to.

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I believe this growth was inseparable from his military service, which exposed him to Americans from all walks of life. This imperfect man served an imperfect nation that has been pressed to become a little “more perfect” by generations of imperfect people. When the moment arrived to empower the military — the nation’s most resourced and resilient public institution — to be an engine for equality, Truman, for all his complications, gave us a win.

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