Can We? Obama, "Pastor-Gate", And Where It Stands Now

I've been debating ever since this whole thing broke a week ago whether or not to write a blog on it or not. It was too involved, I had too much of an opinion on it, and I didn't know exactly how much people were really paying attention to it. But since it seems to have bookended nicely with Obama's speech on Tuesday, and I've come to gather that maybe the issue has only scratched the surface of most folks' general awareness, I figure I might as well have at it. And since the smoke seems to have cleared a bit, I may be able to pinpoint what the real issue and controversy is, who stands where and why.

The Issue: Last Friday a story broke (although it had been sort of "out there" for about a year) about some statements that Barack Obama's pastor, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, said in some sermons over the last seven years. Most of you have seen at least a couple of the clips (there are about 5 of them), the most important of which is the one where he says things like "not God bless America... God damn America!" He says inflammatory racial stuff about Clinton, says that America brought on 9/11 itself, compares 9/11 to the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, and other stuff that was racist, anti-American, and frankly just batshit crazy. And he was getting great response from the congregation (this is Trinity United Church Of Christ in Chicago, an 8000 member church that included many prominent Chicago politicians and celebrities.... by the way, anybody still think he's a Muslim? This stuff at least seems to have put that nonsense to rest).

The real problem is that this wasn't just Obama's pastor. He has been his pastor and "spiritual mentor" for over 15 years, he baptized him, he married him and his wife, and baptized his children. He was named as an honorary member of Obama's Spiritual Council when he began running for President. Obama also named his second book, "The Audacity Of Hope" after one of Rev. Wright's sermons. Obviously, this guy was an important part of Obama's life.

The Fallout: Obviously, everybody freaked out. And well they should have. The stuff this minister was saying was just craziness, and naturally he was loud and bombastic and impassioned, to say the least. The Republicans and conservatives had a collective conniption fit, and had Obama for lunch for days. Even Democrats were taken aback, and he lost poll numbers among independents like me. I'll have to say it gave me pause as well. Are you kidding me?? Is this for real? I've been standing behind Obama for awhile now as a "post-racial", reasonable, level-headed candidate, and this nutjob is his closest spiritual advisor? Maybe he's not what he seems, and maybe he really is just a bowtie away from being one of those Nation of Islam guys. Who knows? I waited to see how he handled it, or like most people, what the hell he had to say for himself.

He came out the very next day on TV and said he "rejects", "repudiates" and all that sort of thing all the controversial statements. He said he does not agree with them or condone them. He also said he was not in the church at the time any of those statements were made, which has been proven to be true. In subsequent statements over the following days on television and on the internet, he continued to repudiate the statements and condemn the message.

After all the conniption fits and "Scanner"-headed pundits over the following days, the whole thing really boiled down to one central question: Why did you stay in that church? Most people (especially white people) said that if they had heard their pastor spewing a bunch of racist and America-hating stuff, they would have gathered up their family and left right in the middle of the sermon, never to return. I would have done the same thing, as would most of you. The question to Obama is, if this man was so close to you, and you undoubtedly knew of his feelings about these issues, why did he remain so close to you, even during your Presidential run?

This went on for days. Finally, early Tuesday there was the announcement that Barack Obama would be giving a "major speech on race" later that morning.

The Speech: I was actually awake that morning, and was very glad that I would be able to see the speech live, in its entirety, and wouldnÕt have to rely on news snippets and clips on pundit shows.

It was obvious this wasn't just any speech. On the early morning shows, I even heard Chuck Todd, the level-headed MSNBC political director and one of the guys I respect more than almost anybody else, say "if he canÕt deliver on this speech, he should drop out of the race." Basically, this is what Barack Obama is all about. A big part of who he is is being able to inspire and communicate with people through his words, and his entire candidacy may be hanging on this one speech. I assumed he would do the politically safe thing -- come out there and re-repudiate his pastorÕs statements, explain his relationship with him, and give a general 15-minute dissertation on the history and future of race relations in an eloquent and inspiring way. I even told Mrs. K on her way to work that "ObamaÕs supposed to be giving a big speech today, but thereÕs no way itÕs going to live up to the hype." It never does. Those big speech moments usually only work when nobodyÕs really expecting them, which is why they have a more startling effect. Basically, nobody "pulls a Babe Ruth" and actually hits the home run after they call their shot.

But damned if Barack Obama didn't stroll up to the plate, point into left field, and jerk one out of the yard.

I expected eloquent. I expected inspiring. I expected intelligence. I even expected courage. I didnÕt expect balls. In my opinion, and most everybody elseÕs, this was the best and most important speech on race that there has been since Martin Luther KingÕs "I Have A Dream" speech 45 years ago. Chris Matthews said "this is something that you keep, and take out and read every year or two like The Great Gatsby or Huckleberry Finn.... This speech will be taught to both kindergartners and college kids before they have to go out into the world." ItÕs hard to pinpoint exactly why this speech was different. But the best words I can think of are that it was candid, and honest. That was the first time we have ever heard a black man of his prominence give such a frank and accurate description of the past, present, and future of American race relations. It was the first time I had ever heard someone like that admit that both black people and white people have legitimate gripes when it comes to race, and neither should minimize or illegitimize the othersÕ concerns. IÕm going to post the speech in its entirety at the end of this blog, but hereÕs a couple of important excerpts, especially for white, middle-class swing voters like most of us:

".... [Rev. Wright] contains within him the contradictions -- the good and the bad -- of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother -- a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love."

".... For the men and women of Rev. WrightÕs generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years.... That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans donÕt feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race.

Their experience is the immigrant experience -- as far as theyÕre concerned, no oneÕs handed them anything. TheyÕve built it from scratch. TheyÕve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor.

They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away. In an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense.

So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African-American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when theyÕre told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments arenÕt always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation.

Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle-class squeeze -- a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many.

And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns -- this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding."

I hope you guys actually read that, and didn't just gloss over it. If you did (which I understand, because this is getting long-winded), please go back and actually read at least those excerpts. Or even better, I ask you to please, PLEASE, read the entire thing, or at least YouTube it. Especially if youÕre against or even on the fence about Barack Obama and who he is. Not so youÕll be inspired, but just so that youÕll at least be informed.

Now What: As I said, he hit a home run on this one -- I didn't say he didn't hit it out of the stadium. It was an amazing race relations speech, but may or may not have been a great presidential candidate speech. In the fair opinion of many conservatives, Clintonians, and right-leaning Obama fence-riders, he didnÕt go far enough in distancing himself from Rev. Wright, or explaining the basic question of why he kept this supposed crazy man so close to him.

Obama has an impossible political tight-rope act to perform here. As one pundit said (canÕt remember who), "He has navigated a mine field here, and not only come out the other side alive, but provided a path for the rest of us to follow." But politically, he has to find a way to distance himself from this guy, while not disowning his own professed "spiritual mentor" and a prominent member of the black community in Chicago (and his district in particular), a major part of his constituency at the time. I venture to say that this is more of a political gaffe that took place gradually over a decade, rather than some real lapse in basic judgement or principle.

So why didn't he just walk out? With most of us, if we "walked out" of a sermon where our preacher said something offensive, it would cause at most maybe a gossip swirl in our neighborhood for a week or two. But if Barack Obama had done it, it would be front page news in Chicago and an affront to his entire constituency, where once again the nuance and details would be lost in the shuffle.

Again, we whiteys say, "But if that happened in my church, I would say this and that and do blah blah blah...." But you know why it's not the same thing as when it happens in a black church? Because it's different, that's why. Why? Because it just is. So shut up about it, whitey.

Oh yeah, nuance....sorry. What I'm trying to say is that, while there is legitimacy in both white and black resentment, white resentment of affirmative action and welfare and crime and quotas and political correctness are about, oh.... 40 years old. Black resentment goes back about 500 years. From slavery to Jim Crow and overt racism and racial violence, to the difficult and turbulent Civil Rights movement of the Õ60Õs, to the unbalanced hiring ratios and police profiling and covert racism of today. Do you ever stop to think that, whenever you see a black person over the age of 70 (my DadÕs age), their great-grandparents may have been born as slaves? Not just slaves, but slaves to people like your parentsÕ great-grandparents? That type of culture and tragic experience and resentment doesnÕt just go away over a few generations. You donÕt just "get over it". And in the process of generations of anger and resentment, rationality and fairness doesnÕt always take precedent, and those angers, rational or irrational, find voice in our most emotional moments -- like in church.

The difference between Rev. Wright saying crazy racist and anti-American stuff and our local Baptist or Methodist minister saying crazy racist and anti-American stuff, is that race issues and racial injustices and American government oppression havenÕt been an integral part of our culture and identity and existence for 500 years. Basically, when youÕre a black man (particularly a prominent young black politician) in a black church, in the predominantly black district of Chicago that you represent, you just let it slide.

If our white pastor, in our white church, said something crazy and racist and anti-American like that, it would be outrageous and we probably would leave the church. Why? Because those statements would be out of nowhere and done for no reason, and only something crazy-ass white racists do, and the vast majority of us want no part of that. But even I know that the black church isnÕt exactly the same way, because the black experience isnÕt the same. Generations-old, completely legitimate anti-white sentiment is ingrained in the culture, and for good reason. And when a bombastic, passionate black preacher of Rev. WrightÕs generation gets on a tangent, some of that "old-time gospel" that is part of his personal experience just comes out. Just like if your white preacher gets on an emotional tangent, something about "the gays" or "the minorities" might pop out (which is the "white resentment" version of what Rev. Wright said). Do you get all in a tizzy? No. If it happens more than once, do you say something to him? Maybe. But if heÕs been an important person to you in personal spiritual matters, the person who brought you to Christ, married you to your wife, and baptized your children, do you "say something"? Or take the huge leap of leaving the church altogether? Maybe. But probably not. What you do is what Obama did; stay where you are, focus on the good things the church does, and maybe not got to church services quite as often.

Look, I think it basically boils down to political considerations coming back to bite Obama in the ass. And since heÕs a politician, and politics and community service is his lifeblood, his actions (or inaction, in this case) are more understandable. As a prominent Illinois politician, and a mixed-race person who has often been seen throughout his life (especially his early political life) as "not black enough", and as a liberal, "not religious enough", he did what anybody in his position would do -- he joined the biggest and most prominent black church in his congressional district, whose pastor brought him into Christianity, which he embraced publicly. And since, up until the South Carolina primary, he had been trying to fight the "not black enough" and "not religious enough" image that had been put upon him, he kept this pastor and prominent black leader close to him, especially when it came to spiritual matters. I think he trusted him as a theologian and advisor on personal matters of God, and Rev. WrightÕs controversial nature just sort of came with the territory of having an older, bombastic black preacher who came out of the Civil Rights movement as his closest spiritual advisor.

That's why Obama's "yes we can" message is so powerful and inspirational. During all this controversy and discussion over race and "tribal politics", I do find myself wondering. "Can we?" I just wrote six pages of my best insight on this issue. Conventional wisdom says that the average American voter just isnÕt going to be interested in that much nuance and detail, or be willing to read more than a paragraph or two in People Magazine or the Parade insert or listen to a few seconds on the nightly news. Can we? Can we get past the petty resentments and juvenile attacks, and the juxtaposition of uber-political bullshit and political apathy, and actually have a rational discussion on important issues? Truthfully, judging from the last month or two of silly and absurd and just plain goofy politics, I donÕt know if we can. So when you hear a man of Barack ObamaÕs obvious intelligence and eloquence lead the charge of "yes we can", itÕs hard not follow that hopeful instinct most of us have, no matter how deeply buried it may be. How we act, regardless of our ethnicity or political leanings, in the next several months will be the judge. Seriously... "Can we?" I hope so. But who the hell knows? Guess weÕll just have to wait and see.

Vote Quimby.

Roger