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Such criticism makes Steele bristle. He describes himself not as a neoconservative but as a "classical liberal focusing on freedom and the power of the individual." He admires Crouch, Loury and Sowell, he says, because they are not willing to accept racism as the total explanation of black difficulty in society. "A black writer or thinker who is somewhat at odds with the civil rights establishment or with black nationalism is automatically a black conservative and lumped together and sort of cast out as a heretic," Steele says. "Some of us are conservative. Some of us are not."
Even Steele's admirers concede that his works could be used to undermine support for affirmative action, including the rights bill that the House approved last week despite the threat of a presidential veto. "The origins of his essays are not political," says producer Lennon. "But the net effect of them is extremely political." Steele disagrees. "That criticism implies a view of white people as omnipotent," he says. "It is as though white people are in charge of our fate rather than ourselves. White people will find whatever excuse they need to avoid dealing with us. They don't need a few black conservatives around the country." He also vehemently denies the accusation that his writing lets whites "off the hook" while blaming black victims for their plight. "I don't think I blame victims," he says. "I challenge blacks. To me the goal of society is absolute social equality. That's what the civil rights movement was after, and we took a left turn into racial preferences that has allowed everybody to get off the hook."
The bottom line, says Steele in his forthcoming book, is that "black Americans are today more oppressed by doubt than by racism and that the second phase of our struggle for freedom must be a confrontation with that doubt." But that view has obvious shortcomings -- most notably that, as Yusuf Hawkins' fate demonstrates, racism remains a virulent and all too widespread phenomenon. Steele's personal experiences suggest that the opportunities he claims blacks are neglecting are far less available than he contends. After obtaining his doctorate in history from the University of Utah in 1974, Steele had to send out 60 applications before finally being hired by San Jose State. Sixteen years later there are still only two black tenured professors in the school's 110-member history department.