Posted by
Chuck Chalberg on Sunday, September 14, 2008 11:00:00 AM
It has been said that many white Americans have long been itching to vote for a black American candidate for president. Let it be said that this is one white American who feels that itch.
It has also been said the source of that itch is traceable to a desire to relieve something called "white guilt." Let it be said that this white American feels no such guilt.
Why the presence of the itch and the absence of guilt? The second half of that question is easier to answer than the first half. My sense of guilt is both long-standing and well-developed, but it is individual, not societal. It has much to do with what I have done and failed to do when it comes to my family, my friends, my neightbors, my colleagues, none of which has anything to do with voting for a presidential candidate whose skin color happens to be different from mine.
That leaves the itch. Part of what needs to be scratched is easily accounted for. Of course it would be nice to show the world that this predominantly white country, a country that was once home to black slavery and Jim Crow, can elect someone of color to the highest office in the land. It's even tempting to think that it would be nice to be liked by smug Europeans, the smuggest of whom do not seem to like us much at all, Hey, we all like to be liked, even smug Americans.
And if you don't like George Bush's American, you surely will like Barack Obama's America. Or so we Americans like to think
anti-Bush Europeans will think. Gone will be the swagger and the strut of this combination of cowboy and Yankee. In its place will be the glamour and the glide of this most cosmopolitan of candidates this most international of candidates. Ah, the itch is real, and so is the temptation to scratch.
But this white guy is feeling a different sort of itch. Not entirely different, mind you. The glamour is fine. So is the senator's smooth as silk, non-cowboy, non-Yankee self. I'm even okay with a cosmopolitan kind of guy. After all, that captures JFK and FDR, with elements of the more elemental TR thrown in for good measure.
So what's the problem? Here's the problem. American presidents from George Washington to George Bush have believed that this country truly is the last best hope on earth. This very American proposition is at the heart of American exceptionalism.
To be sure, some presidents have been better than others at articulating this proposition--and then acting on it. Think Lincoln and Reagan. Some have done so with results at once tragic and triumphant. Think Lincoln and Wilson. Others have done so with results much more triumphant than tragic. Think Roosevelt and Reagan.
There have also been times in our history when this proposition has been absolutely central to our role in the world. Think now. Given our past and given this moment in history, what better time could there be than right now to have a black American president who deeply believes in this very American proposition? And conversely, what could be worse at this moment in our history than to have a black president who questions or doubts or simply does not believe in this proposition? One thing might be worse, namely a black president with a First Lady who has declared hers to be a "mean country."
Of course this proposition is something less--and something more--than the truth. It is a myth. Aha, leap the cynical cosmopolitans among us. Let's strip away the myth and get at the realities of American history, a history of greed and violence, of slavery and oppression. Let's be honest with ourselves, and let's present an honest face to the rest of the world, they add. We are, after all, just another country, no better and, given our power, maybe worse than the rest.
What could be wrong with this brand of honesty? Plenty. If nations live by myths, they also die by the absence of myths--or worse, by the rise of counter-myths. And while we're at it, let's be honest about something else: If the "last best hope" notion is a myth, so is the notion that this is a "mean" country.
Does the myth contain more truth than the counter-myth? Yes. Does the myth define us better than the counter-myth? Yes. Have Americans behaved as if they believed in the myth? Yes--think the American Revolution, the Civil War, both world wars, and the Cold War.
Now for the question of the moment. Does Barack Obama believe in America's defining myth? We simply don't know. Does he believe in the counter-myth? Again, we don't know.
But to wonder about the answers is to worry about the candidate. In this regard, the Obama candidacy truly is unprecedented. Never has a major party nominated an individual whose adherence to the defining American myth has been in question. That the candidate in question also happens to be black is more than worrisome; it is also potentially dangerous, even potentially tragic.
It is dangerous because the absence of myth eats away at our national identity, while the counter-myth would destroy our national confidence, our sense of purpose, our willingness to act as a force for good in the world. There was a time in our history when American isolationism was grounded in a belief that the world was an evil place. Today those who subscribe to the counter-myth see their own country as the source of evil.
The consequence of such thinking is both dangerous and tragic--and not just to Americans, but to the millions around the world who do continue to believe that we are the last best hope on earth.
Think for a moment how it might be otherwise. Then think of that guilt-free itch. Oh, to present a black presidential face to the world at this moment in history. If only we could offer the world a black president who unashamedly and unreservedly believed in the myth--and yes, in the truths behind it. Such a black president could underscore the greatness of the American founding, rather than its mere hypocrisy. Who better to tell all Americans, not to mention the rest of the world, the real truths and realized possibilities of the Declaration of Independence?
Barack Obama would have us believe that only he can restore America's standing in the world, that he represents the only hope that matters. What our next best hope wants us to forget is the direct line that extends from George Washington to George Bush--or that large swath of time when Americans saw themselves as citizens of a country that behaved as if it truly was the last best hope on earth.