In 2004 a promising United States Senate candidate from Illinois reintroduced America to the idea of hope. This skinny guy with the funny name stood on stage at the Democratic National Convention and delivered a keynote address like he was dictating it into the history books. If you watched that night and knew anything about politics you were sure: This man was going to be president someday.
From the moment Barack Obama came to prominence his brand was hope. It was a keyword in the title of his 2006 book, the theme of his historic campaign, and a thread that connected every speech he ever gave. But hope evolved. It became a meme through Shepard Fairey’s poster, then a punchline detractors used to critique the presidency. And critique they did.
Depending on where you live in the political spectrum there’s plenty about the Obama administration to second guess. Did he give too much on healthcare? Did he handle Syria correctly? Did we really learn anything from the financial crisis and make the changes necessary to prevent it from happening again? Perhaps the most vulnerable part of our former president’s legacy is that Obama the man could never live up to the promise of Obama the cultural change agent. Or maybe we just expected more than we were willing to give ourselves.
Like many Americans there was a part of me that believed the election of a black president, and of this president in particular, would be something of watershed. As if somehow this singular act would erase hundreds of years of inequity and prejudice and institutionalized racism. Like a goddamn magic pill. I was wrong, of course. Well-to-do white people and people of privilege generally… we were wrong. We took a sigh of relief when we should’ve been bearing down. I am, if I’m being honest, unsettled by my own ignorance.
Mind you it’s not that progress wasn’t made during Obama’s time in office. It’s just that incremental changes and solid stewardship wither in emotional appeal when weighed against an opposition party willing to obstinate and dog whistle and demonize at every turn.
Just as importantly, there were many, many people in electorally crucial parts of the county that felt worse off in 2016 than they had eight years earlier. It’s at times like these when leaders of a minority party may fuel the deepest fears of their base so that this base expands and excites. In retrospect the cruel reversal to come was almost inevitable, even if the polls told us otherwise.
So it was that the most dignified president of my lifetime was succeeded by a narcissistic, orange bully with tiny, Twitter-addicted hands and the intellectual curiosity of a happy meal. When the pendulum of American politics swings, it swings hard.
It’s been more than a year now since Mr. Obama left office. It feels like a decade. Yet the words of our former president have only grown in relevance over time. Take this excerpt from his final speech as commander-in-chief, a farewell address delivered last January:
I first came to Chicago when I was in my early twenties, still trying to figure out who I was; still searching for a purpose to my life. It was in neighborhoods not far from here where I began working with church groups in the shadows of closed steel mills. It was on these streets where I witnessed the power of faith, and the quiet dignity of working people in the face of struggle and loss. This is where I learned that change only happens when ordinary people get involved, get engaged, and come together to demand it.
After eight years as your President, I still believe that. And it’s not just my belief. It’s the beating heart of our American idea — our bold experiment in self-government.
It’s the conviction that we are all created equal, endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights, among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It’s the insistence that these rights, while self-evident, have never been self-executing; that We, the People, through the instrument of our democracy, can form a more perfect union.
This is the great gift our Founders gave us. The freedom to chase our individual dreams through our sweat, toil, and imagination — and the imperative to strive together as well, to achieve a greater good.
It’s textbook Obama. An invocation of the founders. A call-out to the common folks and to his own personal biography. A bridge that connects the past to present to future. Hope hinges on the possibility of change, but transformation comes at a cost. It’s a price paid through the sacrifice, both great and small, of individuals like you and me. Of the people. For the people. By the people.
I wonder though, after eight years of instruction and speeches and a very fine example in the White House, did we really learn the lesson? Are people in our society actually ready to put in the work it takes to demand a more perfect union? Are the forces of consolidated power too corrupt and entrenched to take on? Are we all well and fucked?
It’s easy to lose your bearings in a squall of hypotheticals, especially in days as dark as these. Sometimes I forget that America is still a work in progress. We are all still works in progress.
If I zoom out to take the long view I know the clouds will clear. Eventually the pendulum will swing back, and maybe this time with a little added push from the good and decent. Until that day the voyage will be long, and the challenges many. Hopefully we can all do a little better tomorrow than we did today. That’s really the best, and only thing, you could expect of anyone.
Also, maybe start by reading a little history.
Showing up at the polls wouldn’t hurt either.
Top photo: Cloudy day at the National Mall, taken by Brian Champlin (yours truly)
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