When my tears were finally spent, I felt a calmness wash over me. I felt the circle finally close. I realized that who I was, what I cared about, was no longer just a matter of intellect or obligation, no longer a construct of words. I saw that my life in America—the black life, the white life, the sense of abandonment I’d felt as a boy, the frustration and hope I’d witnessed in Chicago—all of it was connected with this small plot of earth an ocean away, connected by more than the accident of a name or the color of my skin. The pain that I felt was my father’s pain.
A light rain begins to fall, and Obama feels a tap on his arm. His half-brother Bernard says, “They wanted me to see if you were okay.” Obama smiles. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
35
Finally he is okay. As Obama’s writing shows, he has moved into a higher mode, suspended as it were above the plane of mundane reality. For the second time, Obama has had a transforming experience with his father. The first time was when Barack Sr. came to speak at his school in Hawaii. That’s when the son resolved to imbibe his father’s personality, his magnetic charm, his persuasiveness. But here, at the family tomb, Obama receives something more fundamental. In Obama’s own words, “I sat at my father’s grave and spoke to him through Africa’s red soil.”
36
In a sense, through the earth itself, he communes with his father and receives his father’s spirit. It is here that Obama takes on his father’s struggle, not by recovering his father’s body but by embracing his father’s cause. And so he makes his decision. Where Obama Sr. failed, Obama Jr. will succeed, but he will succeed calmly, strategically, using the panache and persuasiveness that he also got from his father. Obama Sr.’s hatred of the colonial system becomes Obama Jr.’s hatred; Obama Sr.’s failed attempt to set the world right becomes Obama Jr.’s objective for the future. As Obama himself puts it, the dreams of the father forge the dreams of the son, and through a kind of sacramental experience at the family grave, the father’s struggle becomes the son’s birthright.
CHAPTER 7
PUTTING ON THE MASK
B
arack Obama returned from his father’s grave in Kenya a changed man. If our account is right, at this point in his life he was filled with hatred, but it was a calm hatred, an ideological hatred. This hatred derived from the debris of the anti-colonial wars and their impact on his family and especially his father. These anti-colonial wars now raged in Obama’s mind, and he seems to have resolved to become an anti-colonial warrior himself, taking up the cause and seeing the fight to the finish; his father’s dream had truly become his own. This was not about settling individual scores—about going and finding the men who had harmed his father and holding them to account. Nor was it a matter of rescuing relatives like poor George Obama. No, this was about systems, social hierarchies, and the movement of history. The colonial wars themselves were over, but they had been replaced by something else, a neocolonial subjugation that defined the world of the twenty-first century. It was this world that Barack Obama resolved to change, and that is how he could be true to the largeness of his father’s liberationist dream.
But right away, we can see, Obama faced a problem. Actually, two problems. The first is the difficult question of what to do about all this. In other words, how to realize his father’s dream? This is a problem of ideology and of policy. The second problem, equally daunting, is one of politics and marketing. How does a man obsessed with events so far away return to America and sell that vision to others who don’t share it? How does a man like Obama get elected in a country which has virtually no awareness of the defining events of his life, no concern for the injustices that move him, and consequently no sense of urgency about the need to put the resolution of the colonial problem at the forefront of the national agenda? It is here, we will discover, that the creativity and indeed political genius of Obama really show themselves.
Obama is a miracle story in American politics. How do you go from local politics in Illinois in 2004 to being a United States senator from that state and a national celebrity at the Democratic convention that same year, and president of the United States four years later? Not only did Obama impress by winning; it was the way he did it. In a sense, he rose above the field. He became a genuine national and indeed global celebrity, a status that very few men—Gandhi and Mandela come to mind—have achieved on the world stage. He flummoxed his critics, who flailed against him, and he stirred powerful emotions in his supporters, emotions that even they could not fully account for. He inspired giddy excitement in the mainstream media; much of the coverage of his campaign read like press releases issued by his campaign. It is Obama who is responsible for creating the Obama Choir, those hypnotized followers who routinely suspend their rationality when it comes to this political rock star. Somehow the man consumed by the wars and hatreds of a world far away became, in a very different context, the embodiment of hope and aspiration for tens of millions of people who cheered for him and voted for him. How did he do it?
Let’s begin by acknowledging one of Obama’s great achievements, an achievement that even Obama’s critics would have to concede. Obama has transformed the landscape of race relations in America. He has done this not by anything that he has said or done, but by what he stands for and what he represents. Not everyone, of course, is happy with the change. During the presidential campaign, Jesse Jackson said something revealing about Obama without realizing that the microphone was on. He said, “I want to cut his nuts off.”
1
The reason for Jackson’s pique is pretty obvious. It is that Obama has, in a sense, cut Jackson’s nuts off by delegitimizing the whole racial shakedown model. Sure, many of the race hustlers are still at it, but now somehow their mission has lost its moral luster; the nation seems to have moved beyond it; making a living today by crying “racism” has become tawdry and disreputable.
One race hustler who might be getting out of the business is Al Sharpton; he has found a better gig. Sharpton has become Obama’s link to the black street and also, in a way, Obama’s defender in the African American community. When black activists like Tavis Smiley and Michael Eric Dyson pummel Obama for not being sufficiently attentive to black concerns, Sharpton fires back. “We need to try to solve our problems and not expect the president to advocate for us.” Sharpton adds, “It’s interesting to me that some people don’t understand that to try to make the president do certain things will only benefit the right wing, which wants to get the president and us.”
2
Sharpton has even made the sartorial transition, going from his brightly colored track suits and gold medallions to now wearing tailored business suits. Evidently even Sharpton has figured out that the old shakedown routine is losing its effectiveness, and it’s time for a new assignment. Sharpton has adapted; Jackson still hasn’t.
The premise of the race hustlers is that America owes blacks in a big way because America continues to be a racist society. What makes Obama different is that he doesn’t seem to believe a word of it. Naturally he recognizes America’s history of slavery, segregation, and racism. And he occasionally does pay homage to the civil rights constituency by mumbling something about how racism is still an issue in America. In
The Audacity of Hope
, Obama argues that “for all the progress that’s been made in the past four decades, a stubborn gap remains between the living standards of black, Latino and white workers.”
3
Echoing the civil rights orthodoxy, Michelle Obama recently told Steve Kroft on
60 Minutes
that despite his education and success, her husband was a black man who was still in danger of being beaten up or shot in the street.
4
But I doubt that Obama deep down would agree with this. Surely Obama knows that educated, successful blacks are much more likely today to be beaten up or shot by a black gangbanger than by a white person.
Obama’s specific achievement is to restore the credibility of the color-blind ideal in America. “The unavoidable fact,” writes Andrew Kull in
The Color Blind Constitution
, “is that over a period of some 125 years the American civil rights movement first elaborated, then held as its unvarying political objective, a rule of law requiring the color-blind treatment of individuals.” From Frederick Douglass to Martin Luther King, black leaders pressed for America to get beyond race and treat people based on who they are, not on how they look. Race was considered “the painted face,” in the words of civil rights activist Morris Dees, something that should be socially and morally irrelevant.
Somehow, as Kull notes, “The color-blind consensus, so long in forming, was abandoned with surprising rapidity.”
5
Just when America accepted it—and passed a series of laws, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which institutionalized it—the very people who pushed for color-blindness decided that color-blindness was not enough. They now became champions of affirmative action and racial preferences. The new orthodoxy was summarized by the title of one of Cornel West’s books,
Race Matters
. West’s point was not merely that race is a social reality, but that race ought to matter: race-conscious solutions are required to combat persistent inequalities. Still, despite its abandonment among today’s civil rights leadership, the color-blind ideal has endured as a true reflection of American ideals and aspirations.
Obama has brought us a giant step closer to realizing these ideals and aspirations. This makes Obama sound like a descendant and disciple of Martin Luther King. Is he? The answer, surprisingly enough, is no. If we have made any progress to this point in understanding Obama, we can see that Obama’s politics arise from a very different source than Martin Luther King’s dream. It is not that he opposes King’s dream; but it is irrelevant to his worldview. Obama often quotes Martin Luther King on “the fierce urgency of now.” What Obama means is that we should all act now to do what he wants. This reference has nothing to do with King’s vision that America become a society where race does not matter. That’s not a primary concern with Obama; as we are about to discover, his representation and implicit advocacy of the color-blind ideal are largely tactical. He has found a way to benefit politically not just from being black but also from being a certain kind of black leader: a non-Jesse Jackson, and in some ways an anti-Jesse Jackson. This is an important source of his appeal to America’s white majority.
Let’s come back to Obama’s two challenges: what to do about his father’s dream today and how to sell that vision to America. Here we can understand Obama more deeply by delving into the writings of a man Obama studied carefully: the anti-colonial activist and writer Frantz Fanon. Obama acknowledges Fanon in
Dreams from My Father
, and the book is suffused with themes drawn from Fanon. Recall that it was Fanon’s
Black Skin, White Masks
that seems to have been the actual source for Obama’s made-up
Life
magazine story about the black man who was desperately taking medication to whiten his skin.
Yet Fanon is absent from Obama’s later book
The Audacity of Hope
, and even Fanon’s influence seems hard to locate there. In a way, the two books show Obama’s transition from the real Obama to the political Obama. Fanon, I believe, is the man who helped pave the transition. He is the one who helped Obama to put on his mask, the mask that would enable Obama to translate his anti-colonial ideas into the language and imagery of modern American politics. Even so, Obama is no rote follower of Fanon: as we will see, he agrees wholeheartedly with Fanon in one respect while completely inverting Fanon’s teaching in another. Drawing on Fanon but going beyond him, Obama has come up with his own distinctive vision and strategy.
Fanon’s appeal to Obama had two sources. First, Fanon was by profession a psychiatrist, and his work consistently spells out the psychology of anti-colonialism. This suited Obama’s own interior cast of mind; he found in Fanon a fellow militant seeking a way to give his introspective rage a revolutionary expression. Second, Fanon wasn’t a mere theoretician of anti-colonialism; he was an anti-colonial fighter. He didn’t just complain about oppression; he tried to do something about it. This too fit Obama’s own practical plans to take action against the enemy.
Born in the Caribbean in 1925, Fanon studied in France and then joined the Algerian liberation movement, the FLN, contributing to its underground newspaper
al-Moujahid
. In 1957 the French authorities expelled him from Algeria, so he moved to Tunisia to continue his FLN work. The Algerian war of independence was especially brutal, killing thousands of French and hundreds of thousands of Algerians. Fanon was a leading voice calling for independence, not only for Algeria but for all of Africa. He died in 1961, a few months before Algeria became free and in the same year that Obama was born. Fanon’s work enjoyed a vogue in the West in the late 1960s and through the 1970s, especially in schools and universities where young people were mobilizing against the Vietnam War. No wonder Obama discovered Fanon and absorbed his ideas. It solidified his worldview and confirmed his intense hatred for colonialism and neocolonialism.
Fanon argued that colonialism and neocolonialism are total systems that are, in their inherent structure, evil. The form of colonialism may vary, but even so “exploitation, tortures, raids, collective liquidations... take turns at different levels in order literally to make of the native an object in the hands of the occupying nation.” Addressing French liberals who defended colonialism but condemned its excesses, Fanon wrote, “Torture in Algeria is not an accident, or an error, or a fault. Colonialism cannot be understood without the possibility of torturing, of violating, of massacring.”