Thanks to the collapse of the imaginary-asset industry in the US in the months just before the 2008 presidential election, we have had an unusual opportunity to observe both major candidates actually dealing with a perceived national crisis as presumptive leaders. And thus we have learned, clearly and unequivocally, this: when faced with a complex problem with economic, philosophical and public-policy ramifications, neither one of them had any real clue what happened, why and whether it matters, or what to do about it.
But they differ dramatically in the way they dealt with their ignorance. Obama participated in the process, made some fairly noncommittal comments about the logistics, and patiently reiterated his socio-philosophical agenda. McCain lurched around spastically, spewing hurriedly half-baked ideas and trying to find somebody to yell at.
There is your 2008 presidential decision in a single indicative reduction: do you want the guy who wants the world to be a better place, or the one who would just as soon headbutt you if he thought he could blame you for anything.
Will Barack Obama really bring Change and Hope, with those grand Pooh-like capital letters? Can he really, as president, alter the emotional tone of American social discourse? Can he, by sheer persistence of talking about principles as if they actually inform the operation and effects of government and culture, actually bring an American social discourse (back?) into meaningful existence?
I don't know. Maybe. I'm not exactly counting on it. My distrust of the two-party political protection-racket system far outweighs any personal warmth I feel for this particular guy. He wasn't even my candidate of choice, and I wasn't all that enthusiastic about that guy, either. Government is a very big machine optimized for nothing I need or care about.
But there's no way anybody who is bothering to vote tomorrow, and I will be one of those bothering, can justify not voting for Barack Obama. As presidential qualifications go, calm principles are no Nobel Peace Prize, but at least they're something. Scamming cut-rate health-insurance from Utah and refusing to stand up for even the mildest forms of social equity are not anything. McCain and Palin are the nihilist ticket: they stand for nothing. Or, more precisely, they stand for not standing for things, for politics as cynical process, and for methodically undermining the idea that we could believe in each other. They stand, as George Bush stood before them, for small-mindedness. They stand only when we're watching, and only because they're afraid we'll see them wince when they sit down.
A vote for Barack Obama is a vote for ourselves as an idea, for a novel idea that is transformative precisely because it ought to be so mundane. It is a vote for consideration over greed, for resolve over fear, and for the stubborn belief in the possibility of progress over an eager resignation to invisible curses. Barack Obama will not single-handedly solve our problems, and may not even get to preside over the solutions in the time he has, but he will stand with us while we face them, and he will help keep us going while we collectively try to think of things to try. He will stand with us, and as we stand with him we will believe an us into existence. A vote for Barack Obama is not just a vote for this country, and not even just a vote for a country, it is a vote for society itself as a virtue, and for the idea that it can be better.
A vote for Barack Obama is not a vote for a great man, it is a vote for a decent man who has what ought to be the rudimentary sense to believe that there is a greatness bigger than himself that he himself can, and thus must, participate in creating. It is a vote for the bigger greatnesses to which we too have the capacity to aspire, and in which we thus have the responsibility to play a part. This vote, then, is part of our task. It is, if we have not begun already, where we start. It is the beginning of a long and necessary collective project of reclamation and redesign. It is a vote forward.
I vote forward. I believe in us, and I take my part of our responsibility for our future. I stand for us and with us, and I accept the project of our society and its potential as my own. I am voting for Barack Obama.
But they differ dramatically in the way they dealt with their ignorance. Obama participated in the process, made some fairly noncommittal comments about the logistics, and patiently reiterated his socio-philosophical agenda. McCain lurched around spastically, spewing hurriedly half-baked ideas and trying to find somebody to yell at.
There is your 2008 presidential decision in a single indicative reduction: do you want the guy who wants the world to be a better place, or the one who would just as soon headbutt you if he thought he could blame you for anything.
Will Barack Obama really bring Change and Hope, with those grand Pooh-like capital letters? Can he really, as president, alter the emotional tone of American social discourse? Can he, by sheer persistence of talking about principles as if they actually inform the operation and effects of government and culture, actually bring an American social discourse (back?) into meaningful existence?
I don't know. Maybe. I'm not exactly counting on it. My distrust of the two-party political protection-racket system far outweighs any personal warmth I feel for this particular guy. He wasn't even my candidate of choice, and I wasn't all that enthusiastic about that guy, either. Government is a very big machine optimized for nothing I need or care about.
But there's no way anybody who is bothering to vote tomorrow, and I will be one of those bothering, can justify not voting for Barack Obama. As presidential qualifications go, calm principles are no Nobel Peace Prize, but at least they're something. Scamming cut-rate health-insurance from Utah and refusing to stand up for even the mildest forms of social equity are not anything. McCain and Palin are the nihilist ticket: they stand for nothing. Or, more precisely, they stand for not standing for things, for politics as cynical process, and for methodically undermining the idea that we could believe in each other. They stand, as George Bush stood before them, for small-mindedness. They stand only when we're watching, and only because they're afraid we'll see them wince when they sit down.
A vote for Barack Obama is a vote for ourselves as an idea, for a novel idea that is transformative precisely because it ought to be so mundane. It is a vote for consideration over greed, for resolve over fear, and for the stubborn belief in the possibility of progress over an eager resignation to invisible curses. Barack Obama will not single-handedly solve our problems, and may not even get to preside over the solutions in the time he has, but he will stand with us while we face them, and he will help keep us going while we collectively try to think of things to try. He will stand with us, and as we stand with him we will believe an us into existence. A vote for Barack Obama is not just a vote for this country, and not even just a vote for a country, it is a vote for society itself as a virtue, and for the idea that it can be better.
A vote for Barack Obama is not a vote for a great man, it is a vote for a decent man who has what ought to be the rudimentary sense to believe that there is a greatness bigger than himself that he himself can, and thus must, participate in creating. It is a vote for the bigger greatnesses to which we too have the capacity to aspire, and in which we thus have the responsibility to play a part. This vote, then, is part of our task. It is, if we have not begun already, where we start. It is the beginning of a long and necessary collective project of reclamation and redesign. It is a vote forward.
I vote forward. I believe in us, and I take my part of our responsibility for our future. I stand for us and with us, and I accept the project of our society and its potential as my own. I am voting for Barack Obama.