Maureen Dowd is waiting for Obama to show signs of a pulse but, per Shelby Steele, she is missing the point of His Obamacy. Over to Ms. Dowd:
Before he left for vacation, Obama tried to shed his Spock mien and
juice up the empathy quotient on jobs. But in his usual
inspiring/listless cycle, he once more appeared chilly in his response
to the chilling episode on Flight 253, issuing bulletins through his
press secretary and hitting the links. At least you have to seem concerned.
On Tuesday, Obama stepped up to the microphone to admit what Janet
Napolitano (who learned nothing from an earlier Janet named Reno) had
first tried to deny: that there had been “a systemic failure” and a
“catastrophic breach of security.”
But in a mystifying moment
that was not technically or emotionally reassuring, there was no live
video and it looked as though the Obama operation was flying by the
seat of its pants.
Given that every utterance of the president
is usually televised, it was a throwback to radio days — just at the
moment we sought reassurance that our security has finally caught up to
“Total Recall.”
Looking to Obama for leadership is like looking in the mirror, which in Ms. Dowd's case may not be such a great idea. Over to Mr. Steele:
Barack Obama, elegant and professorially articulate, was an
invitation to sophistication that America simply could not bring itself
to turn down. If "hope and change" was an empty political slogan, it
was also beautiful clothing that people could passionately describe
without ever having seen.
Mr. Obama won the presidency by achieving a symbiotic bond with the
American people: He would labor not to show himself, and Americans
would labor not to see him. As providence would have it, this was a
very effective symbiosis politically. And yet, without self-disclosure
on the one hand or cross-examination on the other, Mr. Obama became
arguably the least known man ever to step into the American presidency.
...
I think that Mr. Obama is not just inexperienced; he is also
hampered by a distinct inner emptiness—not an emptiness that comes from
stupidity or a lack of ability but an emptiness that has been actually
nurtured and developed as an adaptation to the political world.
The nature of this emptiness becomes
clear in the contrast between him and Ronald Reagan. Reagan reached the
White House through a great deal of what is called "individuating"—that
is he took principled positions throughout his long career that
jeopardized his popularity, and in so doing he came to know who he was
as a man and what he truly believed.
He became Ronald Reagan through
dissent, not conformity. And when he was finally elected president, it
was because America at last wanted the vision that he had evolved over
a lifetime of challenging conventional wisdom. By the time Reagan
became president, he had fought his way to a remarkable certainty about
who he was, what he believed, and where he wanted to lead the nation.
Mr. Obama's ascendancy to the
presidency could not have been more different. There seems to have been
very little individuation, no real argument with conventional wisdom,
and no willingness to jeopardize popularity for principle. To the
contrary, he has come forward in American politics by emptying himself
of strong convictions, by rejecting principled stands as "ideological,"
and by promising to deliver us from the "tired" culture-war debates of
the past. He aspires to be "post-ideological," "post-racial" and
"post-partisan," which is to say that he defines himself by a series of
"nots"—thus implying that being nothing is better than being something.
He tries to make a politics out of emptiness itself.
But then Mr. Obama always knew that his greatest appeal was not as a
leader but as a cultural symbol. He always wore the bargainer's
mask—winning the loyalty and gratitude of whites by flattering them
with his racial trust: I will presume that you are not a racist if you
will not hold my race against me. Oprah Winfrey, Michael Jordan and
yes, Tiger Woods have all been superb bargainers, eliciting almost
reverential support among whites for all that they were not—not angry
or militant, not political, not using their moral authority as blacks
to exact a wage from white guilt.
Mr. Steele offered a similar argument back in March of 2008 and used Obama's own words against him:
But bargainers have an Achilles heel. They succeed as conduits of white
innocence only as long as they are largely invisible as complex human
beings. They hope to become icons that can be identified with rather
than seen, and their individual complexity gets in the way of this. So
bargainers are always laboring to stay invisible. (We don't know the
real politics or convictions of Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan or Oprah
Winfrey, bargainers all.) Mr. Obama has said of himself, "I serve as a
blank screen on which people of vastly different political stripes
project their own views . . ." And so, human visibility is Mr. Obama's
Achilles heel. If we see the real man, his contradictions and bents of
character, he will be ruined as an icon, as a "blank screen."
Reaching back three years to December 2006 we can find even more on Obama as a self-described "blank screen":
Obama is humble in all the right places. Before a thousand swooning
fans in New Hampshire, he says, Evita-like: "This isn't about me. This
is about you." One gets the impression from his public appearances and
book, "The Audacity of Hope," that he doesn't even get a haircut
without first consulting his wife.
What Obama really thinks should be done about health care and the
terrorist threat remain secrets that his book does not unlock. His two
years in the Senate certainly haven't revealed any bold policy ideas.
This leave-them-guessing strategy slips out in the book's prologue.
"I serve as a blank screen," Obama writes, "on which people of vastly
different political stripes project their own views." He notifies
readers that "my treatment of the issues is often partial and
incomplete." It takes some doing for a politician to write a 364-page
book, his second volume, and skate past all controversy.
In Mr. Steele's telling the whole "No Drama Obama" routine was born of necessity.
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