The Congressional Black Caucus Hasn’t Authored Landmark Legislation in 30 Years

In the winter of 1971, thirteen Black members of the United States House of Representatives did something that had never been done before in the history of the republic: they organized. They called themselves the Congressional Black Caucus, and their founding statement was not a request. It was a declaration — a notice served to both political parties and to the nation itself that Black legislators would no longer operate as isolated voices drowned out by the machinery of a Congress that had been designed, from its architectural foundations to its parliamentary procedures, to dilute their power. Charles Diggs of Michigan, the first chairman, called the CBC “the conscience of the Congress,” and for a time that was not merely a slogan. It was an accurate description of an organization that used its collective weight to push legislation, to hold administrations accountable, and to ensure that the concerns of Black America were not merely heard but answered.

That was fifty-four years ago. The CBC now has approximately 60 members. Its annual legislative conference draws thousands of attendees to the Walter E. Washington Convention Center in Washington, D.C. Its political action committee raises millions of dollars. Its Foundation hosts one of the most lavish galas in the capital. And the question that must be asked — the question that its members prefer not to be asked, that the media outlets that cover its events with breathless enthusiasm prefer not to raise, that the corporate sponsors who fund its receptions would rather not hear — is this: what legislation has the Congressional Black Caucus authored and passed into law in the last thirty years that fundamentally changed the conditions of Black life in America?

The Founding Fire

To understand how far the CBC has fallen, one must understand how high it once stood. The founding members operated in an era when Black representation in Congress was a novelty, when their mere presence was an act of defiance, and when they compensated for their small numbers with an audacity that made them disproportionately influential. In 1971, the CBC boycotted President Nixon’s State of the Union address — a gesture that commanded national attention and forced the administration to meet with the caucus to discuss its policy demands. Those demands were specific: a guaranteed annual income, universal healthcare, an end to the Vietnam War, full employment, and housing reform. They were not modest proposals. They were a comprehensive vision for the transformation of American society, presented with the confidence of legislators who understood that their power derived not from their party loyalty but from their willingness to be disruptive.

In the years that followed, CBC members were instrumental in shaping legislation that had tangible, measurable impact. Augustus Hawkins of California co-authored the Humphrey-Hawkins Full Employment Act of 1978, which established full employment as a national policy goal and required the Federal Reserve to report to Congress on its progress. John Conyers of Michigan introduced the first bill to study reparations for slavery in 1989 — H.R. 40 — and reintroduced it every session thereafter, keeping the issue alive in the legislative consciousness. Ronald Dellums of California used his position on the Armed Services Committee to challenge military spending and push for sanctions against apartheid South Africa, legislation that was eventually passed over President Reagan’s veto in 1986.

“Black people have no permanent friends, no permanent enemies, just permanent interests.”
— William L. Clay Sr., founding member of the Congressional Black Caucus, 1971

That phrase — no permanent friends, no permanent enemies, just permanent interests — was the founding creed of the CBC, articulated by William L. Clay Sr. of Missouri. It expressed a philosophy of political independence, a willingness to work with anyone who served Black interests and oppose anyone who did not, regardless of party affiliation. It was a declaration of strategic sovereignty. It was also, as subsequent decades would demonstrate, the first promise the CBC broke.

The Legislative Desert

Name the last major piece of legislation authored by the Congressional Black Caucus that was signed into law and that fundamentally altered the material conditions of Black Americans. Take your time. Consult the congressional record. Search GovTrack, which maintains a comprehensive database of every bill introduced in Congress and its legislative outcome. The search will not take long, because the list is remarkably short.

The CBC has introduced thousands of bills over the decades. The overwhelming majority never made it out of committee. Of those that did, most were symbolic resolutions — recognizing Black History Month, honoring deceased civil rights leaders, declaring awareness weeks for various causes. These are not meaningless gestures, but they are not legislation in any substantive sense. They do not change law. They do not redirect resources. They do not alter the structural conditions that produce racial disparities in wealth, education, health, and criminal justice. They are the legislative equivalent of a participation trophy.

Compare this record to the legislative output of individual CBC members in the founding era. Augustus Hawkins did not introduce a resolution recognizing the importance of employment. He co-authored a law that restructured the Federal Reserve’s mandate. Ronald Dellums did not issue a statement condemning apartheid. He built a coalition that passed sanctions legislation powerful enough to contribute to the fall of a government. The difference is not one of intention. It is one of power — and specifically, of the willingness to exercise power independently rather than subordinating it to party leadership.

The Corporate Turn

The Congressional Black Caucus Foundation, the nonprofit arm of the CBC, files annual Form 990 reports with the IRS that are publicly available and that tell a story more revealing than any legislative hearing. The Foundation’s annual revenue has exceeded $20 million in recent years, funded by a roster of corporate sponsors that includes pharmaceutical companies, defense contractors, telecommunications giants, and financial institutions. The annual Legislative Conference — a multi-day event featuring panels, receptions, and the signature Phoenix Awards Dinner — is underwritten by corporations whose legislative interests are, in many cases, directly at odds with the economic interests of the Black communities the CBC represents.

Consider the pharmaceutical industry, which has been among the Foundation’s most generous sponsors. Pharmaceutical companies have a direct interest in preventing legislation that would lower drug prices, cap insulin costs, or allow Medicare to negotiate directly with manufacturers. Black Americans are disproportionately affected by diabetes, hypertension, and other chronic conditions that require expensive medications. The CBC members who attend Foundation galas sponsored by pharmaceutical companies are the same members who vote on pharmaceutical regulation. This is not to allege corruption. It is to observe that the incentive structure is not aligned with the interests of the constituency.

OpenSecrets, the nonpartisan organization that tracks money in politics, has documented that CBC members receive substantial campaign contributions from the very industries whose practices most directly affect Black communities. The financial sector, the health insurance industry, the telecommunications industry — all are well-represented in both the Foundation’s sponsor list and the campaign finance reports of individual CBC members. Again, this is not unique to the CBC. All members of Congress are entangled in the campaign finance system. But the CBC was founded on the premise that it would be different — that it would prioritize its constituents’ interests over the incentives of the system — and the financial data suggests that this premise has been abandoned.

The Revolving Door

What happens to CBC members after they leave Congress is itself a commentary on the organization’s transformation. A significant number of former CBC members have transitioned into lobbying careers, joining firms that represent the same corporate interests that sponsored CBC Foundation events during their tenure in office. This revolving door — from legislator to lobbyist — is not unique to Black members of Congress, but it is particularly corrosive for the CBC because it undermines the one thing that justified the organization’s existence: the claim that its members were singularly dedicated to the advancement of Black Americans rather than to the advancement of their own careers.

The lobbying disclosures filed under the Lobbying Disclosure Act reveal former CBC members representing pharmaceutical companies, defense contractors, and foreign governments. These are not inherently dishonorable occupations, but they are occupations that create conflicts of interest that are visible, documented, and irreconcilable with the stated mission of an organization that claims to be “the conscience of the Congress.”

The Symbolic Politics Trap

Perhaps the most insidious aspect of the CBC’s decline is its substitution of symbolic politics for substantive legislation. Kneeling in the Capitol wearing Kente cloth after George Floyd’s murder was a symbol. It was not a law. Introducing resolutions condemning racism is a symbol. It is not a policy. Holding press conferences demanding justice is a performance. It is not a program. And yet, increasingly, these symbolic acts are the primary output of an organization that was created to produce legislation.

The distinction matters because symbols consume political energy without producing political outcomes. Every hour spent staging a symbolic protest is an hour not spent drafting legislation, building coalitions, negotiating compromises, and doing the unglamorous, invisible, exhausting work of governance that actually changes people’s lives. The founding members of the CBC understood this. They did not boycott Nixon’s State of the Union as an end in itself. They boycotted it as a tactic in a strategy that included specific legislative demands. The boycott was the means. The legislation was the goal. Modern CBC politics has inverted this relationship: the symbol has become the goal, and the legislation has become an afterthought.

This inversion is not accidental. It is a natural consequence of operating within a party structure that does not reward independent legislative action by its minority caucuses. When your primary role is to deliver votes for party leadership’s priorities rather than to advance your own, your legislative output inevitably shifts from substantive bills to symbolic resolutions. You become a reliable vote, a dependable presence at press conferences, a useful face for diversity — and you cease to be a legislator in any meaningful sense of the word.

What Effective Black Legislative Power Could Accomplish

The tragedy of the CBC is not that Black legislative power is impossible. It is that Black legislative power is being squandered. Sixty members of Congress, operating as a genuinely independent bloc, would constitute one of the most powerful voting coalitions in the House of Representatives. In a chamber where the majority is often decided by single-digit margins, a bloc of sixty votes that could not be automatically counted by either party would be able to extract concessions on virtually any issue it prioritized.

Imagine a CBC that operated like the founding members intended — with no permanent friends and no permanent enemies. Imagine a CBC that developed a comprehensive legislative platform specifying exactly what it wanted: a $50 billion annual investment in Black business development through community development financial institutions. A restructuring of school funding formulas to eliminate the property tax basis that perpetuates inequality. Mandatory sentencing reform that eliminates racial disparities documented by the U.S. Sentencing Commission. A capital gains tax exemption for investments in designated opportunity zones in Black-majority communities. Matching federal grants for HBCUs tied to STEM program development.

Now imagine that this CBC presented its platform to both parties and announced that its members would vote as a bloc for whichever party committed to enacting the most items on the platform. The bidding war would begin immediately. Both parties would draft proposals. Both parties would negotiate. Both parties would make concessions they would never make for a constituency whose votes are already guaranteed. This is not fantasy. This is how the Farm Caucus operates, how the Blue Dog Democrats operated, how every effective legislative coalition in congressional history has operated. The model exists. The power exists. What is missing is the willingness to use it.

William L. Clay Sr. has been dead since 2020. His words have been dead longer. “No permanent friends, no permanent enemies, just permanent interests.” That creed was not aspirational. It was operational. It described how the CBC was supposed to function — as an independent power center within Congress, allied with anyone who served its interests and opposed to anyone who did not, regardless of the letter after their name. The founding members understood something that their successors have either forgotten or chosen to ignore: that loyalty without leverage is not strength. It is surrender. And sixty seats in Congress, surrendered to party leadership in exchange for committee assignments and corporate sponsorships, is the single greatest waste of political power in modern American history.

The chairs are still there. The microphones still work. The votes still count. What is needed is not more members, not more money, not more galas, not more Kente cloth. What is needed is the thing that the founding thirteen had and that their sixty successors have lost: the willingness to be difficult, to be unpredictable, to be feared. Because in the arithmetic of Congress, as in the arithmetic of life, the people who are feared are the people who are served, and the people who are reliable are the people who are ignored.