America's Black Precedent

I wrote this yesterday, about 12 hours after McCain's concession, but didn't get a chance to post it until today.

I can't bring myself to get as excited as I feel I should be about Obama's victory. I was pulling for him- he was in fact the first major party candidate for whom I voted in a presidential election- but neither his victory nor the historic election of America's first black president excites me the way they have others.

It's nothing personal about Obama. He seems to be a smart and capable candidate and who may well prove a good president. But I just can't imagine him deserving or living up to the incredible expectations that seem to be invested in him.

His victory is being celebrated as a mandate for change, a watershed moment for liberalism in America, and a civil rights milestone. I believe it is all of these things, but not to the extent so many people seem to think.

Not in the case of the latter two, anyway. With regard to the mandate for change, I think that expectations are hopelessly high. Much was made, in the days before the election, of the hope that voters, particularly black ones, had invested in Obama. There was talk of unprecedented engagement with the political process among African-Americans and speculation about the sense of disenfranchisement that might ensue if Obama were somehow to lose.

My worry is that a similar disappointment may be experienced not only despite but because of his victory. Obama will inherit a plummeting economy, an endless war, and spiraling debt. Whether his fault or not, things are likely to get worse before they get better, especially for the least advantaged Americans. If the poor still struggle to make rent, if black Americans remain over-incarcerated and under-educated by the machinery of government, in four years, will there not be an even greater sense of disenfranchisement? Will there not be a temptation, among the many who are not living the American dream, to conclude that if not even this president can advance their interests, then they are truly and irrevocably disenfranchised by the American political process?

There is also the danger that white America will rest on its laurels as it has after every major advance in civil rights. Reconstruction amendments called for equal rights and suffrage for former slaves, yet many remained disenfranchised and in a state of near-enslavement. The Brown decision declared segregation unconstitutional, yet public schools across America remain blatantly segregated. A black man has been elected president, yet he did so at a time when there was only one black Senator (Obama himself) and two black governors (Deval Patrick of Massachusetts and David Paterson of New York, though only the former was elected to the office).

The presidency is an historic landmark in the slow march towards equality, but it is hardly the final hurdle. Black representation in the highest political offices in America mirrors that in the executive offices of corporate America or on the campuses of elite educational institutions. It is far easier to promote a few exceptional candidates (and this son of a black African father and a white woman from Kansas, raised in Hawaii and Indonesia, is nothing if not exceptional) than to extend the fruits of opportunity, wealth, and success to the millions of Americans who need and deserve them.

I am probably being too hard on America. During the primary, I expressed deep skepticism about America's ability to elect a black president. Even when victory seemed inevitable, I continued to reserve doubts. “I don't bet against racism in America,” I told friends. I am tremendously glad to be proven wrong. Truthfully, I am more genuinely proud of my country today than I have ever been.

Yet soaring speeches and tearful faces on television failed to resonate with me. I wandered the streets of Boston, feeling lost in a sea of honking horns, cheering college students, and strangers embracing. The most incredible displays of raw emotion stirred envy in me but not excitement or joy. I fear that so much of this enthusiasm will prove misguided.

The only sentiment expressed last night to which I could relate came from a long-time civil rights activist commenting briefly on NBC. This black woman had marched with Martin Luther King and been beaten half to death for the cause. Choked with emotion, she proclaimed this an historic day for America.

The anchor, who was also black, asked if she would agree that this demonstrated that the US really was an exceptional country because of its ability to change and overcome the mistakes of its past. It was exactly the sort of hyperbole that worried me.

The woman's demeanor changed quickly and dramatically, and she seemed almost hostile as she answered, “It proves that change is possible when people work for it. It doesn't just happen automatically, by magic. People have to work, fight, struggle, and die to make this country change.”

The anchor turned to pose the same question to a white man, who eagerly agreed. “This proves that anything is possible in America,” he declared, voice heavy with self-satisfaction. There was nothing contradictory about their statements, but when it came to subtext the two interviewees were miles apart. He almost made it sound as though the work were finished. She insisted that it was only just beginning.

Obama's victory does demonstrate America's extraordinary potential. Hopefully it will revive the sense of boundless possibility that has been this country's strength and which is sorely needed now. But, as his acceptance speech made clear, it demonstrates only potential. There is a tremendous amount of work and sacrifice ahead of us before we can even begin to realize that potential. I sincerely hope that our new president proves capable not only of inspiring but of leading, and that my countrymen prove willing to follow. I am certainly more hopeful about our prospects than I have been in a long time, and for that I offer my thanks and congratulations to Barack Obama.

I Associate With Terrorists

About five years ago, when I was a senior in college, I attended a panel on education reform that a professor of mine had organized. One of the panelists was "domestic terrorist" Bill Ayers. I don't recall what Ayers was bloviating about, but he told some story about seeing a group of big, "thugged out" guys getting interviewed by a reporter at a high school in a rough part of Chicago. He asked if they were the football team and was told that in fact they were the chess team, and that they had won the city championships. He was surprised that that this school with a bad reputation in a bad part of town would be so into chess. I didn't know about the chess championship, but I actually coached debate at the same school.

After the panel, there was a reception. It was a small crowd, and I was one of the only students there, certainly the least consequential person by a mile. My professor called Bill over to introduce him to me, and I began to tell him my story, "I was interested to hear about the [High School] chess team you met, because I actually coach a debate team at that same school. I've had similar-"

Before I finish my second sentence, Bill cuts me off, grabs my hand, says "Great to meet you," turns his back, and goes over to talk to someone else.

So yeah, Bill Ayers is a terrorist. And a douchebag.

Two DNC Convention Observations

I haven't watched or followed much of the DNC Convention, but I've seen enough to make these two observations:

1. Hillary Clinton and the Glass Ceiling. Before Hillary's speech, they did this video montage thing that was all about how she may not shattered the "glass ceiling" that restricts the opportunities available to women in America but she cracked in 1000 places or something. The insinuation was very much that she lost not because Obama was the better candidate but because he was a man and she was a woman and America is unfair. I'm generally fairly sympathetic to that kind of argument, but I don't think it holds much water in this case given that Obama is contending with a glass ceiling of his own.

More importantly, though, this is just the wrong message for her to be sending. She lost the primariy, and her role now is to suck it up and throw her support behind Obama. McCain is proof that candidates who lose in a primary but toe the party line for the general election can still be viable candidates eight years down the road. McCain had much more legitimate grievances in light of the dirty tricks that Bush/Rove employed against him in 2000, but he swallowed his pride, fell into line, and now he's getting his moment.

Clinton claims she is going to play ball, but it's a stretch to say that she is throwing her support behind Obama. It's more like a weak lob. She's taking every opportunity to draw attention to the fact that she thinks she should have won, that she was the better candidate, and that she is only supporting Obama because that's what's required of her now. Of course, such "support" doesn't really count for much when it's accompanied by a wink and a nod designed to let everyone know that in her view, he is not the strongest possible candidate.

2. I turned on the TV today to see Biden's speech, and there was a woman on a red-lit stage singing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" with a team of background dancers behind her. I assumed this was part of the DNC Convention until I saw Simon Cowell clapping for her. I think it's funny that the conventions have become such an act of political theater that a casual viewer can confuse them with reality television.