The Theory Schmucks

As a theorist, I’m obviously suspicious of the “great men” view of history. It ignores social construction of identity (something I base my entire life philosophy upon) as well as any kind of cultural or economic causes for events. I do, however, have a soft spot for the spirit of leadership.

The two most personally inspiring books I’ve read this year have been Anthony Everitt’s biographies of Cicero and Augustus. Both of these men’s lives teach lessons about political maneuver as well the power of oratory and reputation. Cicero used oratory and reason to influence policy, while Augustus used an inherited reputation and an understanding of public opinion to secure himself a place at the top—and a place in history. It should be pretty clear where I’m going with this.

As an Obama supporter, I am both surprised and disappointed by the rhetoric that the opposing sides have flung at the Senator from Illinois. We’ve all seen this clip from Senator Clinton:

Of course we’re not going to “wave a magic wand” and fix the world’s problems. Of course any fight for social and political change will be hard. But the President, as put forth in the Constitution, isn’t deciding domestic policy. The President is in charge of foreign affairs, is Commander-in-Chief, and has the veto. So, of course, experience and understanding of domestic policy is incredibly important—but it is not the only role the President must be able to fulfill.

Barack Obama understands this better than any candidate we’ve seen in the past twenty years (I can’t speak for much further back than that). Of course his “Yes, We Can” slogan is high-minded, idealistic, and simple. It’s supposed to be. Senator Obama is not setting a legislative agenda, he is constructing a national narrative. His rhetoric of change is not the same tired message of “I will fix the ills of the government.” It is a call to trial.

We have grown cynical with attempts to motivate. We have grown suspicious of leaders who speak to emotion. We have grown away from a belief in a national morale. As Americans, we have come to view patriotism as something for the less educated—the less respectable. And blind patriotism should be seen with distrust. “My country, right or wrong” is the kind of rhetoric that terrifies me.

What Barack Obama is offering, then, is something else. Not a cynical or self-righteously sophisticated shame in American policy, nor a flag-waving jingoistic machismo. He is enabling those who listen to him. His campaign says “let us fight the coming battles,” not “elect me to fight these battles for you.” He has constructed an image that is youthful, vigorous, and even hip. In the same way that Augustus saw that Rome needed a leader who would gesture to but not imitate Julius Caesar, Senator Obama has identified the American people’s need for a politician whose vibrancy can jump-start, not control or define, their energies. Not every generation needs to have their passions lit ablaze by a political leader—a cause or philosophy will do just as well. In a culture of fear, though, such a leader may be the thing to thaw us out.

Obama’s message of ability instead of constraint is brilliant for this reason. We worry every day about what we can’t say, what we can’t bring on a plane, where we can’t go, and who we can’t trust. “Yes, We Can,” as a phrase, directs our attention the other way. It does not pretend to eliminate our problems by being spoken. Instead, it challenges us to make it real.

Obama’s statement, “Yes, We Can,” is in the performative voice. Like a priest’s declaration of “I pronounce you man and wife,” the mere utterance calls it into truth. Although we’ve heard it a thousand times before—from teachers, coaches, parents, Disney movies—it is somehow different when someone with Senator Obama’s charisma says it. The image that he has cultivated can inspire us—and that’s what leadership is.

We know so much about politics, thanks to the 24 hour news cycle and ‘inside scoops.’ We can’t imagine honesty, because every line a politician speaks is written to influence a demographic or special interest group. But leadership transcends that. Yes, we know that Barack Obama’s speeches are crafted—that does not make them false. We know his pauses, reactions, and intonation are practiced—that does not make them mere performance. We know that everything he does and says is dripping with political rhetoric—that does not make it empty rhetoric.

I spend a lot of time reading up on kings and heroes and stars. I’ve found that, by and large, their every action can be deconstructed—their rhetoric and motives made clear. That’s irrelevant, though. Sincerity does not exist in the words spoken, the trips taken, or the policy espoused. Sincerity exists between the leader and the listener.

The difference between a simple politician and a leader is this: a politician has credibility, a leader has presence. Like an actor on-stage embodying a character, a leader embodies a will-to-action. That will has to pre-exist the leader, in some form—be it a desire for change, or an actual stated goal. A leader’s gift, then, is the ability to understand, channel, and call forth what the public desires.

So, of course Barack Obama is telling us what we want to hear. It’s what we’ve been asking for.