Barack Obama loves history. More than any other president, he has made discussions of our history—in particular our historical narrative as a country—part of his political rhetoric. While he is not the first president to talk in a way that includes the story of marginalized groups, there is no question that his level of inclusiveness—both in terms of breadth (for example, he broke new ground by mentioning Stonewall, the seminal event in the movement for LGBT rights, in an inaugural address), and simply how often he has done so—far exceeds that of his predecessors.
The way the president describes our history is central to his larger project of transforming the way we understand our national identity, how we define ourselves as a people, our relationship to one another, and to the country we share.
Having President Obama speak last week at the dedication of the new National Museum of African American History & Culture—built on the National Mall, at the heart of our collective, national public space—offered him perhaps his last opportunity while still in office to tell our story. He didn’t disappoint.
One key theme in Obama’s dedication speech was that our history must do more than solely tell the story of those who wielded great power. This is in keeping with the broader trend in history as a discipline going back decades known as “telling history from below.” We no longer learn just about presidents, senators, and generals, but also about workers and activists; not only about great white men, but about Americans of every color and background.
As Americans, we rightfully passed on the tales of the giants who built this country; who led armies into battle and waged seminal debates in the halls of Congress and the corridors of power. But too often, we ignored or forgot the stories of millions upon millions of others, who built this nation just as surely, whose humble eloquence, whose calloused hands, whose steady drive helped to create cities, erect industries, build the arsenals of democracy.
And so this national museum helps to tell a richer and fuller story of who we are. It helps us better understand the lives, yes, of the President, but also the slave; the industrialist, but also the porter; the keeper of the status quo, but also of the activist seeking to overthrow that status quo; the teacher or the cook, alongside the statesman. And by knowing this other story, we better understand ourselves and each other. It binds us together. It reaffirms that all of us are America -- that African-American history is not somehow separate from our larger American story, it's not the underside of the American story, it is central to the American story. That our glory derives not just from our most obvious triumphs, but how we’ve wrested triumph from tragedy, and how we've been able to remake ourselves, again and again and again, in accordance with our highest ideals.
Additionally, the president defined the path our country has followed in an honest way—one that emphasizes both where we’ve failed to live up to the ideal of equality, as well as the progress we’ve made in overcoming those failures. His critics have repeatedly accused him of offering a deeply negative view of our history. Rush Limbaugh said that President Obama “hates this country …despises the country and the way it was founded and the way in which it became great.” That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Last week, just as he has for more than a decade, Obama told a story of America that defines as true patriots everyone who has worked to make this country great, including those who have done so through resistance and civil disobedience.
The best history helps us recognize the mistakes that we’ve made and the dark corners of the human spirit that we need to guard against. And, yes, a clear-eyed view of history can make us uncomfortable, and shake us out of familiar narratives. But it is precisely because of that discomfort that we learn and grow and harness our collective power to make this nation more perfect.
That’s the American story that this museum tells -- one of suffering and delight; one of fear but also of hope; of wandering in the wilderness and then seeing out on the horizon a glimmer of the Promised Land.
It is in this embrace of truth, as best as we can know it, in the celebration of the entire American experience, where real patriotism lies. As President Bush just said, a great nation doesn’t shy from the truth. It strengthens us. It emboldens us. It should fortify us. It is an act of patriotism to understand where we've been. And this museum tells the story of so many patriots.
Critics like Limbaugh, even if they can’t deny the crimes in our past, want to bury them in footnotes. We cannot do that. Neither, however, can we present those crimes as the whole of our history. President Obama understands this. The historical narrative he presents is both accurate and one that we can use to move forward together, to strengthen our sense of national community. It is the history of all of us struggling to become and to see ourselves as a single people.
The story told here doesn’t just belong to black Americans; it belongs to all Americans -- for the African-American experience has been shaped just as much by Europeans and Asians and Native Americans and Latinos. We have informed each other. We are polyglot, a stew.
[snip] And so hopefully this museum can help us talk to each other. And more importantly, listen to each other. And most importantly, see each other. Black and white and Latino and Native American and Asian American -- see how our stories are bound together.
[snip] The very fact of this day does not prove that America is perfect, but it does validate the ideas of our founding, that this country born of change, this country born of revolution, this country of we, the people, this country can get better.
The way we, as a people, present and understand our history has a tangible effect on us. The reactions of African-American visitors to this new museum makes that abundantly clear. It is vital for Americans of every background to feel that their stories are appropriately represented in that presentation.
“We are now able to have ourselves be defined by our selves. I’ve been elated, I’ve been proud. Informed is not an emotion, but I have just been inspired by so many stories.”
“What makes America great is that there are people who rise up and make corrections, up to the present day. America has a conscience. That’s what keeps it still rising. That’s what makes it great.”
Moving beyond last week’s speech, it is impossible to measure the effect President Obama’s rhetoric has had. His understanding of America does differ from the one many of us, in particular older Americans, heard growing up. We know, unfortunately, that he has not changed everyone’s mind. Some people fear change, fear the loss of status and privilege—in particular those who are, themselves, in an economically insecure position. Of course, that reality does not mean the president has had no impact.
Through his words, as well as his actions, policies, and the very fact of his presidency, Barack Obama has transformed our national identity. Have we eliminated racism, either on a structural or individual level? Of course not.
Nevertheless, Americans of every color have watched a black man represent our country for eight years. Just as importantly, that man has exhorted us to see ourselves in one another, to embrace our membership in a single national community even as we preserve our membership in other communities. His words matter. They plant a seed. Over time, their impact will only continue to grow.
Ian Reifowitz is the author of Obama’s America: A Transformative Vision of Our National Identity (Potomac Books).