Some random thoughts on a remarkable occurance
There a milestone moments in our lives, events which tell us that something has changed. Barack Obama ran his campaign on change, but most of us interpreted that word to mean ending the war, restoring our economy, taking care of the health of the planet and the health of our people, and such. But now we see that the change is much more fundamental, deeper, transformative, a meta-change. The very tectonics of the American political landscape has been subducted. Things feel different. I sent out a “yes we did!” email to all the “subscribers” to DCJ last evening. Suddenly my in box was full of emails from France, three from Germany, two from Hong Kong, Singapore, Canada, Japan, Taiwan, PR China, and, of course, the good ole US of A—foreign friends wishing us the best, cheering us on, and expats and homeys suddenly feeling like they can hold their heads up again.
You could see it in the way the world reacted. But you could also see it on the face of Barack Obama. He stood the last moments before leaving the stage last night with an expression that I call a Gethsemene moment—the weight of what he had committed himself to fell upon him, and almost messianic weight. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not equating Obama with Christ, and I do not mean the Gethsemene moment to convey in any way an imminent dire result; I mean it to refer to an existential instance, in which one is no longer quite the same as before, and the knowledge of its epiphanic realization is almost concussive. I thought I saw that on Obama’s face. He did not smile, his step was a bit less graceful. The exotic-named new president is replacing the most dis-liked and vilified political figure since Adolph Hitler and a messianic mantel has fallen upon him. He transcends his own country. The hopes of billions have been placed upon him. He can look in the mirror and see himself as the “other” that circumstances have made him. If I believed in prayer I would pray for him.
McCain will go to one of his houses to lick his wounds. This aspiration is no more for him. Sarah Palin, the momentary queen of the dregs of the vanquished drooling, hate-spewing, bible-thumping Republican wing, will return to the arctic and relative obscurity. By the time of the next election she will have been dealt with by the party apparatchiks because she turned out to be the poison pill that McCain foolishly swallowed on the advice of the neo-cons (were they out to kill the “maverick” off?). Joe the Plumber probably won’t even get a Letterman-Leno shot and go from commodity to commode. He was too stupid to understand Obama’s tax plan was good for him, and even to get the joke he had become. They were, and are, of the past; the warrior-politician; the hockey-mom “outsider” who wants in; the useful buffoon. McCain showed some grace at the end, but I am glad to see him go. I have not written kindly of him in these pages. He parlayed getting shot down and a P.O.W sentence into high political office, a rich wife and a bunch of houses. But there is nothing intrinsically special about this guy. He was not the man of the hour and the peop[le seemed to sense it.
Obama is change, just by his victory, just by being what he has made of himself. He has changed the pedigree for the presidency to an American-ness that is more like what we are, but against all the odds of what we were putatively allowed to be. His victory transcends race but, for my part, I was thrilled to see the joy and relief on the faces of descendents of those who were dragged to these shores to be treated as less than human. They have a new champion, who is also xi champion, who is also much of the world’s champion—not because he is Black (not in spite of it either), but because he is capable, eloquent, intelligent, determined, and cool.
I recall that many years ago a poll was taken of the most recognizable American name around the world. One would expect it to be the President, whoever that was. It wasn’t; it was Muhammad Ali, the heavyweight champion of the world. Ali, as we know, transcended his sport. He became a symbol, an icon and, in some sense, a “messiah” for many African-Americans.
When he was Cassius Clay of Louisville, the light-heavyweight Olympic champion who subsequently tossed his gold medal (he says) into a river, he was brash, loud, confident, and the polar opposite of Steppin’ Fetchit. At first, I didn’t like him much, although I admired his ring skills. I think this is because I was brought up not to like wise guys with big mouths. I even pulled for Liston to quiet him down with those huge, heavy fists of his. But Clay vanquished Liston twice.
Then Clay became Muhammad Ali—in the days before we had demonized Islam—but still, he had shucked his “slave name.” That gave me pause, too. But then, he gave up his heavyweight championship because he refused to go and kill Vietnamese people who had done no harm to him or his country. In spite of all my social “programming” Muhammad Ali became my champion. He had transcended his sport, and his race. No man would be his “Massa,” not even the president of the United States.
Now, some four decades later, an African-American has the power to bring to an end another war our country is waging against a country that never attacked us. Barack Obama ran his campaign without playing the “race card.” He was open with his racial background (one that seems to be regarded by many as completely African-American), but he used it neither to petition, not to demand any special consideration, even when the opposition fashioned fear-mongering oblique references to it. At first, there was a question whether he had the “experience” for the leadership necessary to function in the Bush-screwed-up world. Then, as the campaign—and the length of the primaries and presidential campaign favored getting to know him—wore on, his coolness, the steadiness of policy positions, his intelligence and eloquence, drew greater contrasts with the ill-focused McCain and his bizarre choice of running mate. By election day, only die-hard Republicans, and the loony fringe who felt Obama was everything from Karl Marx to the Anti-Christ could not see that he had the better character, policies and the charisma.
He has yet to govern as chief executive for a day, but already, there is the feeling I had like the day men walked on the moon, some new territory of human experience has been opened, a new era has dawned and, eight years late, it feels like the 21st century has officially begun. Now I can show my passport with pride. Now I can even wave the flag. Who knows, I might even be able to speak with some old friends, again.
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© 2008, James A. Clapp (UrbisMedia Ltd. Pub. 11.5.2008)