Mercy, forgiveness have no color

In politics, fear has a color.

For most of American history, that color has been Black.

No ad has taught that lesson more brutally than the Willie Horton ad of 1988. It showed the face of a Black man convicted of murder. It blamed Michael Dukakis for a furlough program. It told voters mercy was dangerous.

After that, clemency withered. Democrats especially learned to treat grace as a trap. To this day, too many Democratic politicians fear using their clemency powers. Even when their cowardice means people receive punishment they do not deserve.

Republican governors and presidents have often been more sweeping. Our nation’s current president has used the pardon power boldly and repeatedly. He has never seemed afraid of the power itself. Too many Democrats still are.

This spring marks 10 years since the Bernie Sanders campaign made a vastly different kind of ad. Nearly three decades after Willie Horton, I asked the campaign to do the opposite. Put a Black man convicted of murder in a presidential ad. Not to destroy the campaign. To strengthen it.

His name was Chris Wilson.

Chris grew up in Baltimore. He saw violence young. At 17, he took a man’s life. He went to prison.

There is no hiding from that truth. There should not be.

But Chris did what we say we want people to do. He took responsibility. He educated himself. He built a master plan for his life. He came home determined to work, mentor, and help others escape the traps that nearly swallowed him.

At the time, Chris was painting my house. When the campaign came to film the ad, Chris helped find the location.

To me, his story was not a liability. It was the point. Real public safety requires redemption. Prevention. Education. Jobs. Second chances.

The idea carried risk. Given the legacy of Willie Horton, some had concerns. That was understandable. This was not a safe testimonial. It was a direct challenge to a powerful racial taboo.

But in a nation with the highest incarceration rate on Earth, Willie Horton politics had trained campaigns to distrust voters. My experience told me voters were better than that.

Years earlier, I had been polling for a big-box retailer that wanted to know what would happen if customers learned it provided second-chance employment for formerly incarcerated people. Customers said they would be more likely to shop there. The company stood to gain market share, not lose it.

People were ready to believe in second chances. Politics just had to catch up.

Everyone signed off on taking the risk. The campaign made the ad. The name said it all: “Be Bold, Change the System.”

There was Chris, looking into the camera, telling the truth. No hiding. No sugarcoating. No mug shot. No monster. Just a man. A Black man. A Baltimore man. A man who had caused harm, paid a terrible price, and fought to become a force for good.

It was the anti-Willie Horton ad.

The Willie Horton ad said Black men are the reason to fear mercy. The Chris Wilson ad said Black men are among the reasons to believe in redemption.

And it worked. The ad drew roughly 1 million clicks in the first 24 hours. It sent Bernie’s support up fast in Illinois. It was used powerfully in Michigan and Missouri. It moved people because it trusted them.

Chris later received a book contract. “The Master Plan” told how he refused to let prison be the end of his life. That work became the basis for an education program that has trained more than 100,000 incarcerated people.

Today, Chris is a celebrated artist whose paintings sell for tens of thousands of dollars.

The Chris Wilson ad, and the life he has led since, prove the best way to combat racist, authoritarian propaganda is with the bold and transformative truth.

In America, the color of trust is the color of the blood in all our hearts — red and blue, flowing together as one.

Ben Jealous is a professor of practice at the University of Pennsylvania and former national president and CEO of the NAACP.

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