I'm going to outsource to my favorite blog, for some personal response and summary of other bloggers' opinions- including conservatives...
First, Alex's response:
I can honestly say I never heard another political speech like it. It wasn't by any measure the politically safe thing to do, but it was by every measure the right thing to do. It was brutally honest about both Obama's own personal history and about our shared history. Take, as just one example, this section:
"Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.
Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.
Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments - meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.
A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families - a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods - parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement - all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.
This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.
But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it - those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations - those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's 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 may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.
And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. 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. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.
In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience - as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've 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 they're 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 aren't 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.
This is where we are right now."
When, if ever, have we ever heard a presidential candidate speak this honestly about the legacy of racial discrimination in our society? I honestly cannot think of another time. He wasn't just explaining his own past, he was explaining out shared past. This is a narrative that accurately explains the themes that have dominated our politics not just for the past 40 years, but the past 140 years. Forget the election for a moment - that's a remarkable achievement in any context.
In the end, Obama is right: We have a choice. It has always been implied in this election, but now it is explicit. It is not an easy one, but it is one we must make. Will we mature as a nation, or will we willfully choose to remain mired in some form of national adolescence? Will we choose to face our problems as mature adults, or will we decide to leave them for someone else - most likely our own children - to take care of? Will we choose to become a more perfect union, or will we choose - willfully choose - to ignore our flaws and continue as we are?
"For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle - as we did in the OJ trial - or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.
We can do that.
But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.
That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.
This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.
This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.
This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.
I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected."
Overcoming our collective cynicism will be hard, but it is possible. I know I write endlessly about this campaign and this candidate, and I'm sure sometimes what I write sounds over the top. But it is moments like these, speeches like these, that convince me that it is worth, just this once, believing that our politics can actually be what they always should have been. That it is possible for us just this once to put aside our divisions and come together to make this world a better place. That it is possible for one brief moment to move closer to our shared ideals. That it is possible to build a politics around our shared hopes rather than our shared fears. That we can choose to elect a leader who will tell us what we need to hear, and not simply what we want to know or would prefer to believe. This campaign isn't about what he can do for us, but about what we can all do for ourselves and for one another. That is what politics should be but almost never are.
Perhaps you think I'm too idealistic. Perhaps you think I'm being naive. So be it. Idealists no doubt often fail, but when they do succeed their actions are remembered forever. I would rather act out of idealism and fail than remain cynical and never act at all.
Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments - meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.
A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families - a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods - parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement - all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.
This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.
But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it - those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations - those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's 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 may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.
And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. 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. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.
In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience - as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've 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 they're 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 aren't 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.
This is where we are right now."
When, if ever, have we ever heard a presidential candidate speak this honestly about the legacy of racial discrimination in our society? I honestly cannot think of another time. He wasn't just explaining his own past, he was explaining out shared past. This is a narrative that accurately explains the themes that have dominated our politics not just for the past 40 years, but the past 140 years. Forget the election for a moment - that's a remarkable achievement in any context.
In the end, Obama is right: We have a choice. It has always been implied in this election, but now it is explicit. It is not an easy one, but it is one we must make. Will we mature as a nation, or will we willfully choose to remain mired in some form of national adolescence? Will we choose to face our problems as mature adults, or will we decide to leave them for someone else - most likely our own children - to take care of? Will we choose to become a more perfect union, or will we choose - willfully choose - to ignore our flaws and continue as we are?
"For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle - as we did in the OJ trial - or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.
We can do that.
But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.
That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.
This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.
This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.
This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.
I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected."
Overcoming our collective cynicism will be hard, but it is possible. I know I write endlessly about this campaign and this candidate, and I'm sure sometimes what I write sounds over the top. But it is moments like these, speeches like these, that convince me that it is worth, just this once, believing that our politics can actually be what they always should have been. That it is possible for us just this once to put aside our divisions and come together to make this world a better place. That it is possible for one brief moment to move closer to our shared ideals. That it is possible to build a politics around our shared hopes rather than our shared fears. That we can choose to elect a leader who will tell us what we need to hear, and not simply what we want to know or would prefer to believe. This campaign isn't about what he can do for us, but about what we can all do for ourselves and for one another. That is what politics should be but almost never are.
Perhaps you think I'm too idealistic. Perhaps you think I'm being naive. So be it. Idealists no doubt often fail, but when they do succeed their actions are remembered forever. I would rather act out of idealism and fail than remain cynical and never act at all.
Second, Alex's summary of some other blogs:
Ezra Klein:
I wasn't expecting to be surprised by that speech. I expected it to be good, of course. Obama is a gorgeous orator, and he tends to perform best when the stakes are highest. But I wasn't terribly impressed with his delivery today. He did not soar, nor adopt the confident preacher's cadence he uses to involve and feed off an audience. Rather, it was the content of the speech that surprised. It was not inspiring, not really. Parts of it could have been cut, like the reading from his book...
But this speech was something I didn't expect: Honest. It was honest about Obama's affection for Wright, even as it repudiated Wright's comments. It was honest about the tragic history of race in America, even as it expressed faith in a redemptive future. It was honest about the resentment peddlers and racial charlatans who try and recast the increasing rarity of the American Dream as the consequence of ethnic competition rather than gross power imbalances. It was honest in its recognition that racial memory influences contemporary thought, honest in admitting that there's anger in this country, and it's justified, and that there's fear in this country, and it's real...
Obama could have simply preached unity and forgiveness without recognizing the realities of anger and resentment. He could have done as Mitt Romney did, and sought to protect his political vulnerabilities by picking new enemies. Obama could have made this a speech about Fox News, and divisive commentators, and right wing talkshow hosts, and sleaze artists who need to be stopped. But he didn't. He's betting he can universalize this experience, too, and that he'll find more votes in unity than in division. It is, at best, a gamble. But at least it's an honest one.
Dana Goldstein:
All in all, this speech dealt with race more honestly than I've ever heard the topic discussed by a politician. But it was too long. He should have cut the entire section where he quotes from his own book, Dreams from My Father. The strength here wasn't really Obama's recounting of his own life, but his framing of the role of race in American history and in our society today.
Kate Sheppard:
I think Obama's much-anticipated speech on race today hit the appropriate tone not just for addressing the Jeremiah Wright flap, but for framing the relevance of his candidacy in general. It was best in the way it framed the discomfort and resentment in the discussion of race in America that has lead to a "racial stalemate" for so many years, and made race "a part of our union that we have not yet made perfect."
... Yes, there are ongoing problems, but America is not irrevocably bound to this history. We can overcome those barriers. We can end the racial stalemate and move forward. It was the appropriate tone for the speech, not denying the validity of Wright's concerns while at the same time not embracing bitterness or divisiveness.
Andrew Sullivan:
Alas, I cannot give a more considered response right now as I have to get on the road. But I do want to say that this searing, nuanced, gut-wrenching, loyal, and deeply, deeply Christian speech is the most honest speech on race in America in my adult lifetime. It is a speech we have all been waiting for for a generation. Its ability to embrace both the legitimate fears and resentments of whites and the understandable anger and dashed hopes of many blacks was, in my view, unique in recent American history.
And it was a reflection of faith - deep, hopeful, transcending faith in the promises of the Gospels. And it was about America - its unique promise, its historic purpose, and our duty to take up the burden to perfect this union - today, in our time, in our way.
I have never felt more convinced that this man's candidacy - not this man, his candidacy - and what he can bring us to achieve - is an historic opportunity. This was a testing; and he did not merely pass it by uttering safe bromides. He addressed the intimate, painful love he has for an imperfect and sometimes embittered man. And how that love enables him to see that man's faults and pain as well as his promise. This is what my faith is about. It is what the Gospels are about. This is a candidate who does not merely speak as a Christian. He acts like a Christian.
Bill Clinton once said that everything bad in America can be rectified by what is good in America. He was right - and Obama takes that to a new level. And does it with the deepest darkest wound in this country's history.
I love this country. I don't remember loving it or hoping more from it than today.
TPM's Greg Sargent:
Obama's speech, throughout, asks its listeners to transcend themselves -- it asks them to choose nuance over cartoonish political controversy; it asks them to acknowledge stuff about race they don't want to acknowledge; it asks them to think big instead of small.
NBC's Aswini Anburajan
His tone throughout was quiet and thoughtful. The same speech could have been delivered in a fiery tone. But Obama chose one that was quiet and thoughtful. It did little to lessen the impact and may have added to the weight of his words.
TNR's Jonathan Chait:
My first reaction is that the speech was extremely smart and intellectually subtle. It's very unusual for a politician to give a speech that works at such a high intellectual level. At every turn he resisted simplifications and added nuance.
This in turn reminds me of one of the things I like about Obama's candidacy. He may be liberated to operate at a high intellectual level in public because he's black. I'm not trying to be Gerry Ferraro here; let me explain. Candidates like John Kerry and (even moreso) Al Gore were also very smart, but constantly forced to dumb it down lest they be tagged as out-of-touch elitists. Since the egghead image is so at odds with the prevailing stereotypes about African-Americans, he has much less to fear by speaking at a high intellectual level.
Of course, Obama is extremely intelligent -- as smart as, or smarter than, any presidential candidate I can ever remember. Yet I don't think a brilliant white Constitutional law professor could pull it off. Being black obviously disadvantages Obama in all sorts of ways. But this is one way where it helps.
Publius:
I think the relentless multiple-news cycle coverage of Wright has been absurd - and rooted in old stereotypes of the black community as a hotbed of angry nationalists. My fear was that Obama, in opting to give the speech, was giving into the trumped up and bogus frenzy. While I knew this specific controversy would pass, my more general fear was that Obama the candidate and president would be pressured to twist in the Beltway winds.
But he didn't do that. He forcefully distanced himself from Wright's words, but spoke movingly - and unapologetically - of his connections to the man. He didn't run and hide in Kerry/Daschle-esque cowardly fashion. He stood right up and said, "yes, he's my friend." He cast him as mired in the old world, to be sure, but he didn't give into the Russert-style pressure to do some sort of Maoist confessional disavowing all association with the man. (I also thought it was savvy to preemptively ridicule the press if they continue obsessing about this story).
...on first listen, that implicit courage not to buckle stood out. And I think that augurs well for both his candidacy and his potential presidency.
Atlantic's Marc Ambinder:
In his speech today, instead of casting Wright out, throwing him overboard, trying to write him off, Obama did the opposite: he incorporated Wright into Barack Obama, LLC. Wright's evolution becomes part of America's evolution, which is part of Obama's story.
In no uncertain terms did Obama renounce -- morally condemn -- the hateful, anti-Semitic, anti-American and just plain bizarre rants of his pastor -- "former pastor," as Obama now calls him. But he did not reject him. He refused to reject him. He is daring, in essence, his white liberal supporters to accept what Wright's anger represents -- a legacy of oppression -- and daring the rest of white supporters to take a leap of faith him... and asking them to expand their minds a bit and see that Wright is preaching in a tradition that has a context that is directly related to the material and spiritual conditions of all Americans.
The sell will be easier for white liberals, I think. The speech was magnificently written. It was internally consistent with Obama apparently believes...
CW tells us that white voters tend to become nervous when Democrats and liberals lecture to them -- even when they lecture eloquently and respectfully -- about race. Will they, this time? What do you think?
Atlantic's James Fallows:
This was as good a job as anyone could have done in these circumstances, and as impressive and intelligent a speech as I have heard in a very long time. People thought that Mitt Romney's speech would be the counterpart to John Kennedy's famous speech about his faith to the Houston ministers in 1960. No. This was.
A reminder of a non-obvious but crucial principle in speechwriting. Make the language simple, clear, vivid, and comprehensible -- of course. But never, never talk down...
It was a moment that Obama made great through the seriousness, intelligence, eloquence, and courage of what he said. I don't recall another speech about race with as little pandering or posturing or shying from awkward points, and as much honest attempt to explain and connect, as this one.
CNN's David Brody:
We won't know for awhile how voters view Barack Obama's speech today on race relations but The Brody File saw it as a HUGE positive for Obama and a successful turning point for the future of his campaign
Tapped's Adele M. Stan:
Watching Obama (on TV) deliver today what I believe to be the most important address on race since Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech, my sense of the uniqueness of Obama's candidacy was further distilled... Obama is as much white as he is black, and that matters in ways she may not have contemplated. For instance, his cross-cultural experience gave him a window on the ways in which white resentment manifests itself, and he has loved people who, were he not their kin, might have treated him poorly based on the color of his skin and the texture of his hair...
Indeed, it is thrilling to see a man who, by virtue of his appearance, will always be a black man in the eyes of America, come so close to attaining the presidential nomination of one of the nation's two major political parties. But it is his biracial experience that gives him the insight to make the whole thing work, and to embody, quite literally, a deep longing for a closing of the racial chasm.
Ambinder, again:
I do think that Obama's speech was a marvel of contemporary political rhetoric. Politically, analytically and emotively, it hit many high notes. His acknowledgment of white working class resentments (busing) and about the perception that there's been no racial progress, his willingness to stick by his friends, his grasp of history, his sense that our views of race are cramped and caricatured... all of that is something that even those who disagree with the substance of his speech, can, I think, appreciate.
Steve Benen:
Generally, speeches are a bit like art -- their quality is in the eye of the beholder. From where I sat, I found Obama's speech rather extraordinary. Indeed, it's the kind of speech politicians just don't give anymore -- a brilliant address with context and nuance. It answered key questions, while challenging his audience with new ones.
Of course, our modern political landscape very rarely rewards context and nuance, brilliant or not, so whether Obama managed to help his campaign today remains to be seen. It's depressing, but Michael Crowley's point in response to the speech is important: "[It was] brilliant, beautiful, inspiring -- but perhaps not what crass electoral politics demanded of him."
It feels almost ridiculous to wonder whether a candidate's speech is too good for modern campaigning and today's media, but it's hardly an unreasonable question this afternoon.
BC's Alan Wolfe:
What I heard today, though, was not a political speech in the sense we have gotten used to in this country. I heard instead a speech that, as much as it was about Obama and Wright, was also about us. Our politics does not quite know how to handle such a thing; campaigns are meant to tell people what they can expect to receive, not to ask them to understand, forgive, and reach out.
The campaign for the Democratic nomination has already gripped the nation for two reasons: It offers either the first woman or the first African-American as the candidate of a major party, and it has been as close as the last Super Bowl. Now we have a third reason for our fascination: We have been asked to reflect in the most serious of ways about the role that race plays in the life of our country. I cannot recall any leader or potential leader in the last two or three decades asking us to do that. I hope we are up to the challenge. I do not believe--nor, from his speech, do I think that Obama believes--that to think seriously about race we have to vote for him. But I do think that when we address race, we ought to do it, not by running endless videos of people, black or white, who have said outrageous things but by finally having the honest conversation about race we keep promising ourselves--and keep postponing. Agree or disagree with Obama, I ask people who are less inspired by him that I am, but at least acknowledge that in this presidential candidate, we have a man of honor--and an honest man.
Matt Yglesias:
The kind of white resentment Obama is talking about here has been a problem for the Democratic Party for decades now notwithstanding the fact that you rarely see the party nominating African-Americans to run in majority white constituencies. What Obama is showing us here is that precisely because he's black, he's able to acknowledge and validate these resentments in a way that would be very difficult for a white liberal politician.
At any rate, I'd say things are back on track. The Wright business had opened up a vague sliver of hope for Hillary Clinton's campaign -- if they could produce a result in Pennsylvania that looked like a Wright-induced collapse in Obama's white support, maybe they could convince superdelegates that he's unelectable. After this speech, I don't see it happening.
Ezra, again:
To think through the political implications of the speech for a second, the real loser here looks to be Clinton. Now that Obama's candidacy is, in part, a referendum on the party's willingness to confront the issue of race and forge a cross-ethnic alliance in search of economic justice, it's hard to see how the supers can side with Clinton. Not because Obama is right in his quest, but because his candidacy is now too deeply intertwined with the history of the Democratic Party and the coalition that has evolved to support it...
Before today, it was just Obama, and his movement. After today, it's Obama, and his movement, and also the party's comfort with the realities of race.
Jonathan Chait, again:
With a couple hours to mull it over, my tentative conclusion is that Obama's speech is politically smart. His over-riding imperative was not just to stop answering questions about Jeremiah Wright, it was also to get out of Ferraroworld -- in other words, to stop allowing his campaign to be defined by racial tiffs. I don't know if he'll succeed, bu the speech was probably the best he could have done to accomplish it.
DDay:
Conservatives are already firing up the wedges again in reaction to this speech. I heard Rush say that Obama has "now become a racial candidate," I guess because he said the word race. Their true nature is going to be coming out in this reaction; the fear, the anger, the desperation, the racism. Obama's speech is large and has a lot of nuance that won't play in soundbites. I don't really care to get into the politics of it, but I think we'll see in the ultimate result whether we're a nation that still pays attention to these petty concerns and wedges, or whether we can judge a man on the content of his character.
Ross Douthat:
It had its imperfections, yet for all that I think Charles Murray makes the crucial point: Can you think of a better speech on race in America delivered recently by any politician, black or white? Of course John Derbyshire is right that Obama's vision of how America ought to transcend our racial divisions is essentially left-wing, with whites and blacks joining hands against to raise taxes and government spending, while uniting against their common enemy, the wicked axis of corporations, lobbyists and special interests. But Obama's candidacy is essentially left-wing; he's attempting to be a liberal Reagan, not a difference-splitter like Bill Clinton, and I think our political moment is tilting sufficiently leftward that he might just succeed... this is a conservative's quibble about a liberal politician's address; it's my way of saying "I wish Barack Obama were a little less left-wing," and it doesn't detract from the speech's overall impressiveness.
...by using the Wright controversy as an opportunity to play up their candidate's strengths - as an orator, but more importantly as the rare politician who can deliver a thoughtful, nuanced speech and make you feel like he means it - the Obama campaign made some sweet-tasting lemonade out of some awfully sour lemons .
And last but not least, because no compilation of reactions would be complete without a look to the other side, here's a collection of reactions from NRO's Corner, courtesy of Kevin Drum:
"Amazingly bloodless and dull; part moral hectoring part awkward defensiveness." "I think if you want to be romanced by your candidate, he romanced you. And if you're a guilty white person, you're with Obama because he said so." "Was it just me, or did anyone else note that for the first half of the speech, Sen. Obama seemed annoyed, put out by having to give the speech in the first place?"
"This a breathtaking attempt to pass off Wright's hateful rants by implying that they are little different than the 'political views' of some priest with which a parishioner might disagree." "Obama is no longer a post-racial candidate....today, he has embraced the politics of grievance." "Blame whitey, and raise high the red flag of socialism. This is a serious candidate for the Presidency? Toast, toast."
"His grandmother -- his surrogate mother at that point -- rejected the black man he was becoming. The anger Obama heard in Rev. Wright's church may not have felt so alien after all." "Any hopes anyone had that Barack Obama would be a gift to civil rights in America -- that he would shake hands with Ward Connerly and really be a change died today, I think."
"Does he think OJ was guilty? Hmmm. Probably not the best example to put into play." "It's hard to imagine how someone who listened to this speech, and who had followed at all the controversy of the last few days, could still view Obama as somehow transcending politics."
No comments:
Post a Comment