Fort and others like him deserve to be venerated because they are on a short list of endangered politicians whose ethical, courageous and progressive stances on important social issues, never wavering over decades, have set them apart from many public officials today.
For young Black politicians, Fort is viewed as akin to Malcom X as a leader who brought the revolution of African American empowerment into state legislative chambers. For progressives of all backgrounds, he is seen as something of a Black Bernie Sanders, one who has not changed his core beliefs and values from the day he took his oath of office nearly three decades ago. It is important to single out public officials like Fort because they have shown that they won’t roll over and allow special interests to dominate the economic, political and social landscapes without challenge.
As a Democratic state senator representing a district encompassing part of Atlanta, Fort was clear about his calling: to be a voice for “the least of these,” a phrase from the Bible referring to the unhoused, the poor and the victims of injustice. He concentrated his legislative agenda on issues important to those who often get left out of decision-making in state capitols and halls of local governments. His constituents were those who couldn’t afford to contribute to political campaigns, take off from work to lobby for or against legislation, or protest abusive banking practices, an issue in which Fort had a particular interest and legislative success, most notably with the passage in 2002 of the Georgia Fair Lending Act.
The Forts of our nation also bring a deep and abiding passion for service. In his case, whether fighting for fair housing, against predatory lending or on behalf of people facing foreclosure, he brought the same compassion, energy and enthusiasm to bear, qualities that resulted in his protest-related arrests on more than one occasion.
I admired his fight and considered him a fellow traveler, but never saw myself going so far as to get locked up. The powerful feared Fort and considered him volatile and unpredictable. That’s not how Fort sees himself today, as he requests one thing of the city — to one day name a street intersection in his honor. He believed his service was about bringing people together at the crossroads of change. As I reflect on my days in elected office, I believe I owe him and others like him a debt of gratitude. Their take-no-prisoners model of leadership allowed my more cautious approach to be somewhat more effective.
There is precedent for this good-cop-bad-cop strategy for bringing social change. I recall former Atlanta Mayor Andrew Young describing for me the tag-team approach that he and fellow civil rights leader Hosea Williams (who later would serve as an Atlanta City Council member and state legislator) often took during the civil rights movement. “Hosea would go into a business fussing and threatening to picket if they didn’t desegregate their establishment. I would come in calmly behind him and say, ‘We can negotiate something quietly or would you rather deal with Hosea?’” There is definitely a place in electoral politics for strategic rage, and Fort has been a master practitioner and purveyor of that throughout his decades of public service.
(Photo courtesy of family of Vincent Fort)
There is one last quality of this vanishing breed of servant-leaders that I wish public officials today would pay more attention to and try to emulate: Fort would always say to me: “At the end of the day, you only have your good name that will survive your life on Earth.” Not wealth, not power — just how people remember your reputation for integrity and willingness to sacrifice so that they, the least of these among us, could find shelter in their homes, safety in their neighborhoods and abundance in their lives.
Legacy is what he was talking about. I wish more elected officials, instead of desiring to serve in office for the glamour and power of it, would think more about legacy. This would ensure that we keep alive the values and traditions of Fort and others like him who leave behind more than merely their good names — who leave a legacy of good works that make us better because they fought the good fight, finished the race and kept the faith.
Governing’s opinion columns reflect the views of their authors and not necessarily those of Governing’s editors or management.
