To quote Jon Stewart: "And so, on the 18th of March, 2008 at 11:45AM, a Presidential candidate talked to us about an issue as though we were adults." Initially, I was ambivalent between Obama and Edwards. I leaned Obama, but once Edwards dropped out I started putting my energy and volunteerism behind Obama. After this speech, though, I know I made the right choice.
It is remarkable for a variety of reasons. Partly, it is its novelty. The standard political response would have been to throw his reverend under the bus and dismiss him as a lunatic. But he didn't. He could have tried to avoid the issue, triangulate, and skirt around it. But he didn't.
Instead he decided that this was a time to start a conversation. He rightly pointed out that anger and resentment about race-relations in America may be counterproductive, but they are not unjustified. Our elite discourse throughout the media and in the public sphere has been so petrified, so timid, and so afraid to have an honest discussion on the issue that they have swept it under the rug and wished for it to go away. They like to pretend it doesn't exist, to make-believe that race doesn't color their perspectives, and they express their righteous indignation if anyone ever suggests a tinge of racial or racist overtones in their dialogue. We have been living under this fragile illusion for the past 30 years and it's time to stop it.
I suppose it was inevitable that the prospect of a Black President would have sparked this dialogue. For most of his national career Obama rightly kept race on the back-burner, I suspect so he could establish his personality and his credentials as a statesman rather than as a Black man. When it finally did bubble up, however, he did not hesitate to do what he had to grab the public by its shoulders and slap some sense into it.
When was the last time we had anyone in the public sphere actually challenge us to do better for ourselves? Instead of pandering and telling people what they wanted to hear, he proudly spoke his mind. He expressed himself clearly, eloquently, and most importantly, with a humble and unpretentious sincerity that is so rare in modern politics that I had forgotten what it looks like.
The path of the righteous man, however, is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. So the most remarkable thing about his address was his courage. He not only showed the courage to stand by his own convictions, but also the courage to remain loyal to his friends, his church, and his community in spite of the demands of political expedience. Even my Republican friends who saw this all admitted that Obama is truly a rare breed. He is a throwback to an age of eloquence and honesty and honor that probably never existed to begin with.
It is this speech, more than any other, which convinced me that Obama really understands me. Throughout his address there was a subtle trait about his personality that was revealed through every declaration and every anecdote: When he says "I am my brother's keeper" he takes it seriously. Whether you disagree with him, love him, or even outright hate him and wish to do him harm, Obama is one of those rare people with the true gift of empathy and compassion that will listen to you and sincerely try to understand why you feel the way you do.
When I was in High School I was pretty angry at the world. Being an Indian, Hindu immigrant in a predominantly White, Christian, and sometimes hostile school environment was never all that easy and the repeated attempts at conversion and proselytization got to me. I had a big chip on my shoulder against Christians. It was in this frame of mind that I drove into a drive-through after tennis practice. I ordered a chicken sandwich and the manager was at the drive-through window. He had a cross necklace dangling around his neck. He looked at me and with a slight country accent asked "Are you a Hindu?" I nodded and I made a mental note never to go there again. I knew what would come next, either an invitation to go to his church or a declaration that I was doomed if I didn't repent. I had seen this all before, or so I thought.
Instead he told me that he was the manager and he knew we didn't eat beef so he could swap out a vegetarian patty into any of their burgers if I wanted. I said thank you and moved on, but the the unexpected gesture of thoughtfulness stayed with me.
I am not an emotional man. I have never cried during a movie or broken down when moved, but when he recounted the "I'm here for Ashley" I shed a tear. Not only because it was a moving story in its own right, but because it reminded me of that episode at the drive-through and because it reminded me that this is the experience of Americans everywhere. In listening to that speech I felt like I had made a connection with my country and I have never been prouder to be an American.
Of course, afterwards I realized it was an awfully cerebral speech and feared that perhaps it was too smart, too intelligent for the media. They, of course, proved me right. Wing-nut commentators already started willfully distorting facts and quoting him out of context to suit their ends, but I realize none of that matters. In Sanskrit there is a saying, Satyameva jayate: "Truth, alone, triumphs." This is not a hope or a prayer, but a statement of fact.
Many years from now, nobody will remember what some pompous blowhard on cable had to say, but they will remember that speech.
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