A Change Has Come: The New Politics
Barack Hussein Obama has become The President. He has also become the avatar of a New Politics. A small number of years ago, a man outside the mold of The Old Politics becoming the Executive would have been a slim statistical possibility existing only because it was not circumscribed by word in the Constitution.
It is not simply a matter of race. Many have been made outside the mold of the Established Good and found it tough going to gain favor. Nixon supposedly felt that way. His background, his family, his achievements were always easily upstaged by an upperclassman, an Eastern Protestant lawyer, a Jewish businessman, or a Kennedy. He scrambled into high office bruised and stung from coming from where he did and, later, it showed.
I live in Chicago, Illinois. In 2004, Barack Obama gave a speech at the DNC Convention. Like many, it was the first time I had taken much note of the man. I had voted for him already in 1996 and 1998 for the State Assembly and in 2004 for the Senate. But who remembers much of the person they vote for the State Assembly?
In 2004, Senator Obama was an unlikely avatar. His ears seemed too big for his head; his wrists seemed too small. He looked fourteen, like his voice was still changing. He spoke convincingly and deeply, however, of another ingredient to the American saga: "A belief that we are all connected as one people." "I am my brother's keeper. I am my sisters keeper!" Folks cheered. They cheered not a Black America, not a Blue America, not a Red America, but the United States of America. We cheered. I cheered. It was a good speech. It was a "politics to hope."
In 2004, the Man in Illinois politics was Gov. Rod Blagojevich. I first ran into him in the entryway of The Abbey Pub as he was running for the 1996 U.S. 5th District House seat. Around then I was a musician spending time waiting to be discovered at The Abbey. While waiting, I'd have a pint. I ran into Gabby Hayes of The Butthole Surfers there, a sax player from Stevie Wonder's band, Shelby Lynne perched on a bar stool looking stunningly fetching. I saw lots of folks coming through going places, Rod Blagojevich being one. He shook my hand. He had money behind him, an untainted future before him, and an ambition to rise in politics.
In 1996, a guy like Gov. Blagojevich with connections to Democratic foot soldiers, decent fund raising, a good back story, and that hair was obviously someone going places. The hair is richly lampooned now on SNL, but just that short time ago Rod's hair could make Network anchors look twice and women donate. As the son of an immigrant, he could cite humble beginnings, he had shined shoes, he loved Elvis, and he had a delightful family. A guy like that could become Governor, and he did—twice. At one time in the Old Politics, a man like that could become President. You could whip together a campaign, color it with tinges of The American Dream, wrap a flag around it, and take it on The Road. William Jefferson Clinton had done much the same thing to astounding success throughout the 80s and 90s. He had promised in 1992 a New Covenant, but few really held him to it. It was nice simply having an Executive that wasn't some WWII muckity-muck ready to raise his fist against the Communist Menace. That was no longer a swell tune and we could no longer dance to it.
In 1993 I had come to Illinois from Indiana to find work, get married, and maybe get a record deal in the bargain. I found work, got married, and recorded a few songs. During the Clinton years my wife and I managed to do OK. She is an actress and she worked with kids. I obtained work first in the futures markets, then in real estate, but the borders were open and decisive measures were being taken to drive down rising wages. My wife and I felt the pinch by and by. When Allan Greenspan remarked on the market's "irrational exuberance" I remember riding an elevator with Barry Lind the head of the discount brokerage where I was employed. "Irrational exuberance", Mr. Lind remarked. "Why'd he have to go and say that?" I worked late that night, the market in a tizzy, squaring out-trades for the next day's business.
In late 1999, I watched Texas Gov. George Bush walk from the statehouse with his lovely brunette Mrs. Bush to a waiting campaign bus. He was the New Hope then. He prayed and walked with God, abhorred abortion, and believed in limited government, low taxes, and a strong military. He certainly was no Al Gore. He "won".
Rhetorical flourishes get a workout in the midst of change. Founding fathers and ghosts from history are commonly, even haphazardly, evoked. New Beginnings shine gleaming in New Mornings and Faith throbs triumphant in our collective arteries. Cities rise on hills of ideals and covenant oaths are sworn with the grace of our forbears given forth of sacrifice emanating upon us unexpectedly. Enduring all, politics remains the divvy. More precisely, politics is who gets to do the divvy. Justice and mercy belong to all surely, but few get it. The one who does the divvy makes that determination—at times arbitrarily. Hoping that an elected official or two is at least present tugging on the sleeve and making forceful argument in our interests is all that we common folk have. We settle for less often, but we still continue to believe in a New Hope.
President Obama is a much smarter customer now then he was as a Junior Senator from the State of Illinois in 2004. He looks older and more solid. Mr. Bush looks older than when he took office. They say the Presidency ages you, but really eight years ages everybody except for Scarlett Johansson. She is still simply, at this point in her career, getting it done . I look older now than I did in 2000. I've had quite a few things to worry about in interim years. We all have.
The outcome of our collective struggle remains undecided. The US$ is trading 89.71 to the Yen. It will be a rough ride for the dollar. Our military has been drained of resource, our treasury looted, our principles compromised. George Bush did not have to do it; we were ready to do it to ourselves. Steep profits were harvested in the process. Phenomenal wealth was born and flourished and transferred to those most impeccably attuned to receiving it. The market had topped. And what a top it was! At one point it seemed most the people I knew were looking to strike it big in the New Economy. People spoke in the open about their net worth. They marveled as the value of their homes eclipsed all expectation. The City and Suburb was redolent in the smell of new money and development. Things had boomed. But wages and jobs struggled. The party ended and bills came due. The divvy got doled out to a few while others sat wanting.
What is promised with the New Politics, as I see it, is that there are fewer assumptions to be made as to who get a portion of the divvy. Jeb Bush may have to work harder to make a good impression and advance in the New Politics. The pharmaceutical industry may not be able to thwart a health care plan simply with the size of their purse. The Religious Right may boast of the sizes of their houses of worship, but not of the success of their political agenda. In the New Politics, where a Gov. Blagojevich is held in utter contempt while an unlikely Hawaiian is lauded as the perfect product of American history, old assumptions wash away, and there is much to be ritualistically and ceremonially cleansed in American life. We have tasted of the catharsis now and want more. Like Lady Macbeth we stare at the spot on our hands and want it gone.
In the New Politics we may seek to do something about the energy crisis. Eight years ago it was one of President Bush's chief objectives as he took office. He selected Vice President Cheney to lead a task force that convened early to ponder a plan. The plan was to stake out the last remaining reserves of fossil fuel and seize them to preserve our way of life. The plan failed spectacularly and diminished our capital. Now, we start again. The New Politics suggest we will do things different this time. Old obstacles still lay strewn in the path, however.
In the Old Politics, the power to rain ordinance and artillery and from the heavens and quell disturbance of any kind was paramount. Those taking such measures did so soberly, and fitfully regretted whatever collateral damage resulted. Questioning or defiantly protesting these actions would not really serve to quiet them. In fact, if your paycheck bore some shirttail relation to the action's premise, your silence was expected. In the New Politics, if equal rights extend to civilians caught in conflict then aerial bombardment can be no arbiter of change, it only represents the failure to change. In the Old Politics, you bombed, and then dropped relief supplies shortly after, or even before. It was gentlemanly. In the New Politics we can imagine frowning on such things altogether—or should.
With the New Politics we will gain a voice to overturn the worst excesses of the last eight years, but will we right the wrongs of the last eight hundred? Maybe not, but the Old Politics were clearly exhausted. The power of an able, white, member of the landed gentry has been tried, tried, tested, and tried again. The lackluster results are for our examination before us. Good Gawd, look what we have done.
We've elected a son of a Kenyan and a Kansan raised in Hawaii with an Indonesian half-sister. Multi-culturally speaking, we can do no more as a populace. If we next elect a female Asian-American with a Cuban accent it is of no moment. The mold has been irrevocably broken. Good for us. But the birthing of a New Politics requires more of us. It requires us to lay down our comfy assumptions and dare something. Our legislatures will have to work creatively to find means among our dissolution and revenues among our non-discretionary expenditures at the state and federal level. We will have to sue to divorce ourselves from costly conflict overseas. We will have to pay reparation for what has been destroyed.
If the New Politics dictate that we will have to lay down our unfettered allegiance to the status quo, so be it. We can do it. Yes, we can.
Read more!
It is not simply a matter of race. Many have been made outside the mold of the Established Good and found it tough going to gain favor. Nixon supposedly felt that way. His background, his family, his achievements were always easily upstaged by an upperclassman, an Eastern Protestant lawyer, a Jewish businessman, or a Kennedy. He scrambled into high office bruised and stung from coming from where he did and, later, it showed.
I live in Chicago, Illinois. In 2004, Barack Obama gave a speech at the DNC Convention. Like many, it was the first time I had taken much note of the man. I had voted for him already in 1996 and 1998 for the State Assembly and in 2004 for the Senate. But who remembers much of the person they vote for the State Assembly?
In 2004, Senator Obama was an unlikely avatar. His ears seemed too big for his head; his wrists seemed too small. He looked fourteen, like his voice was still changing. He spoke convincingly and deeply, however, of another ingredient to the American saga: "A belief that we are all connected as one people." "I am my brother's keeper. I am my sisters keeper!" Folks cheered. They cheered not a Black America, not a Blue America, not a Red America, but the United States of America. We cheered. I cheered. It was a good speech. It was a "politics to hope."
In 2004, the Man in Illinois politics was Gov. Rod Blagojevich. I first ran into him in the entryway of The Abbey Pub as he was running for the 1996 U.S. 5th District House seat. Around then I was a musician spending time waiting to be discovered at The Abbey. While waiting, I'd have a pint. I ran into Gabby Hayes of The Butthole Surfers there, a sax player from Stevie Wonder's band, Shelby Lynne perched on a bar stool looking stunningly fetching. I saw lots of folks coming through going places, Rod Blagojevich being one. He shook my hand. He had money behind him, an untainted future before him, and an ambition to rise in politics.
In 1996, a guy like Gov. Blagojevich with connections to Democratic foot soldiers, decent fund raising, a good back story, and that hair was obviously someone going places. The hair is richly lampooned now on SNL, but just that short time ago Rod's hair could make Network anchors look twice and women donate. As the son of an immigrant, he could cite humble beginnings, he had shined shoes, he loved Elvis, and he had a delightful family. A guy like that could become Governor, and he did—twice. At one time in the Old Politics, a man like that could become President. You could whip together a campaign, color it with tinges of The American Dream, wrap a flag around it, and take it on The Road. William Jefferson Clinton had done much the same thing to astounding success throughout the 80s and 90s. He had promised in 1992 a New Covenant, but few really held him to it. It was nice simply having an Executive that wasn't some WWII muckity-muck ready to raise his fist against the Communist Menace. That was no longer a swell tune and we could no longer dance to it.
In 1993 I had come to Illinois from Indiana to find work, get married, and maybe get a record deal in the bargain. I found work, got married, and recorded a few songs. During the Clinton years my wife and I managed to do OK. She is an actress and she worked with kids. I obtained work first in the futures markets, then in real estate, but the borders were open and decisive measures were being taken to drive down rising wages. My wife and I felt the pinch by and by. When Allan Greenspan remarked on the market's "irrational exuberance" I remember riding an elevator with Barry Lind the head of the discount brokerage where I was employed. "Irrational exuberance", Mr. Lind remarked. "Why'd he have to go and say that?" I worked late that night, the market in a tizzy, squaring out-trades for the next day's business.
In late 1999, I watched Texas Gov. George Bush walk from the statehouse with his lovely brunette Mrs. Bush to a waiting campaign bus. He was the New Hope then. He prayed and walked with God, abhorred abortion, and believed in limited government, low taxes, and a strong military. He certainly was no Al Gore. He "won".
Rhetorical flourishes get a workout in the midst of change. Founding fathers and ghosts from history are commonly, even haphazardly, evoked. New Beginnings shine gleaming in New Mornings and Faith throbs triumphant in our collective arteries. Cities rise on hills of ideals and covenant oaths are sworn with the grace of our forbears given forth of sacrifice emanating upon us unexpectedly. Enduring all, politics remains the divvy. More precisely, politics is who gets to do the divvy. Justice and mercy belong to all surely, but few get it. The one who does the divvy makes that determination—at times arbitrarily. Hoping that an elected official or two is at least present tugging on the sleeve and making forceful argument in our interests is all that we common folk have. We settle for less often, but we still continue to believe in a New Hope.
President Obama is a much smarter customer now then he was as a Junior Senator from the State of Illinois in 2004. He looks older and more solid. Mr. Bush looks older than when he took office. They say the Presidency ages you, but really eight years ages everybody except for Scarlett Johansson. She is still simply, at this point in her career, getting it done . I look older now than I did in 2000. I've had quite a few things to worry about in interim years. We all have.
The outcome of our collective struggle remains undecided. The US$ is trading 89.71 to the Yen. It will be a rough ride for the dollar. Our military has been drained of resource, our treasury looted, our principles compromised. George Bush did not have to do it; we were ready to do it to ourselves. Steep profits were harvested in the process. Phenomenal wealth was born and flourished and transferred to those most impeccably attuned to receiving it. The market had topped. And what a top it was! At one point it seemed most the people I knew were looking to strike it big in the New Economy. People spoke in the open about their net worth. They marveled as the value of their homes eclipsed all expectation. The City and Suburb was redolent in the smell of new money and development. Things had boomed. But wages and jobs struggled. The party ended and bills came due. The divvy got doled out to a few while others sat wanting.
What is promised with the New Politics, as I see it, is that there are fewer assumptions to be made as to who get a portion of the divvy. Jeb Bush may have to work harder to make a good impression and advance in the New Politics. The pharmaceutical industry may not be able to thwart a health care plan simply with the size of their purse. The Religious Right may boast of the sizes of their houses of worship, but not of the success of their political agenda. In the New Politics, where a Gov. Blagojevich is held in utter contempt while an unlikely Hawaiian is lauded as the perfect product of American history, old assumptions wash away, and there is much to be ritualistically and ceremonially cleansed in American life. We have tasted of the catharsis now and want more. Like Lady Macbeth we stare at the spot on our hands and want it gone.
In the New Politics we may seek to do something about the energy crisis. Eight years ago it was one of President Bush's chief objectives as he took office. He selected Vice President Cheney to lead a task force that convened early to ponder a plan. The plan was to stake out the last remaining reserves of fossil fuel and seize them to preserve our way of life. The plan failed spectacularly and diminished our capital. Now, we start again. The New Politics suggest we will do things different this time. Old obstacles still lay strewn in the path, however.
In the Old Politics, the power to rain ordinance and artillery and from the heavens and quell disturbance of any kind was paramount. Those taking such measures did so soberly, and fitfully regretted whatever collateral damage resulted. Questioning or defiantly protesting these actions would not really serve to quiet them. In fact, if your paycheck bore some shirttail relation to the action's premise, your silence was expected. In the New Politics, if equal rights extend to civilians caught in conflict then aerial bombardment can be no arbiter of change, it only represents the failure to change. In the Old Politics, you bombed, and then dropped relief supplies shortly after, or even before. It was gentlemanly. In the New Politics we can imagine frowning on such things altogether—or should.
With the New Politics we will gain a voice to overturn the worst excesses of the last eight years, but will we right the wrongs of the last eight hundred? Maybe not, but the Old Politics were clearly exhausted. The power of an able, white, member of the landed gentry has been tried, tried, tested, and tried again. The lackluster results are for our examination before us. Good Gawd, look what we have done.
We've elected a son of a Kenyan and a Kansan raised in Hawaii with an Indonesian half-sister. Multi-culturally speaking, we can do no more as a populace. If we next elect a female Asian-American with a Cuban accent it is of no moment. The mold has been irrevocably broken. Good for us. But the birthing of a New Politics requires more of us. It requires us to lay down our comfy assumptions and dare something. Our legislatures will have to work creatively to find means among our dissolution and revenues among our non-discretionary expenditures at the state and federal level. We will have to sue to divorce ourselves from costly conflict overseas. We will have to pay reparation for what has been destroyed.
If the New Politics dictate that we will have to lay down our unfettered allegiance to the status quo, so be it. We can do it. Yes, we can.
Read more!
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posted by obelus at 1/20/2009 06:39:00 PM
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