Mark Davis

The 60th anniversary of the Brown vs. Board of Education decision was sure to draw a flood of retrospectives and analysis, and properly so.

But an equally safe bet was the hijacking of the occasion for the proliferation of agenda-driven malarkey.

If you name something the “Civil Rights Project” and put it at UCLA, it becomes easy to predict what it will crank out. Just in time for what should be a celebration of a landmark ruling marking our societal path to enlightenment, along come these Debbie Downers to tell us that no, in fact, segregation is still very much alive.

This may come as a surprise to anyone with a grasp of what words mean.

“Segregation,” as it pertains to the history of U.S. education policy, refers to actual laws preventing kids of certain races from attending certain schools. It recalls the unfathomable days when a black student could live within the territory of a school near his home and be denied admission because of skin color. Our schools have long been purged of such poison, but how will the Civil Rights Project at UCLA fill its days if American law has indeed righted itself racially?

Needing a narrative of America as a land still in dire need of racial scolding, they have graced us with a report, “Brown at 60: Great Progress, a Long Retreat and and Uncertain Future.”

Rest assured the “Great Progress” section in no way recognizes our society’s enormous leaps toward racial awakening. It embraces instead the social engineering that yanked both black and white kids out of schools they wished to attend, casting them into faraway classrooms to achieve diversity numbers that pleased an activist bureaucracy but made kids miserable.

I saw this firsthand in Prince George's County, Maryland in the mid-1970s. Hundreds of my white classmates were ripped from their daily routines to satisfy a federal court’s whim to plant them miles away in majority-black schools. Simultaneously, hundreds of black kids at those schools were wrenched away from their familiar environment and planted in my largely white school.

So why did I attend a largely white school? Because, heaven forbid, I lived in a largely white neighborhood. If Camp Springs, Maryland had been more diverse during the Nixon years, I would have had more classmates of color. Similarly, the two largely black schools forced into this unholy busing trade reflected the demographics of the neighborhoods surrounding them.

Oh, the horror.