There was a line in President Obama's acceptance speech that has been much repeated, endlessly retweeted and minutely parsed.
And yet understood by no one.
You know, I recognize that times have changed since I first spoke to this convention. The times have changed, and so have I.
I'm no longer just a candidate. I'm the President.
Fans of the president rejoiced to hear what they believed was the battle cry of a man mad as hell about the countless, absurd accusations leveled against him and unwilling to take it anymore. His detractors shook their heads at what they saw as another example of the boundless arrogance of the Biggest Celebrity in the World. (See
Gerson this morning.)
Nobody got it, not the media, not the 'Pubs, not us.
Obama's simple declaration of the title on his business card wasn't a brag or a warning to back off, nor was it a strutting victory lap or an invitation to kiss his ass.
Barack Obama was apologizing. To us.
He was humbly asking forgiveness from the thousands of Democrats assembled in the hall before him and the millions he knew watched around the country.
He's quite aware of our disappointments, our frustration at his apparent inability to stand up to the boors and boobs that are blocking every policy that could actually help our bruised country, let alone move us toward being a more just and generous nation.
In 2004 and 2008, he had the luxury to relentlessly bash our opponents or unleash his prodigious rhetorical chops. No longer. The office he holds isn't First Critic or Poet in Chief. Much as he might wish to step back into those roles, he is charged now with a nation to run, a nation of all citizens, and that charge precludes such indulgences.
It was a rare and remarkably personal apology, followed by another, that neither he, nor any president, could ever perform such a charge perfectly. It was a difficult admission for a man like himself, both relentlessly self-honest and jealous of the privacy of his emotions. But it was an apology that he felt due to those who had loyally backed him in the face of unprecedentedly vicious critics.
I imagine he was secretly amused at the irony that none of those critics, who have accused him of apologizing reflexively to anyone who'd listen since before he even won office, heard it. It was if he admitted to being a radical Kenyan anticolonialist and no one noticed.
He is probably pleased that we missed it, too. Though he felt he owed us an explanation, I doubt he'd want us to be making a big, gooey fuss about it. After all, we've still a lot to get done.