I think continually of those who are truly great …
Who wore at their hearts the fire's centre.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.
—Stephen Spender (1909-1995)
What constitutes "greatness" in politics? Names that come readily to mind, like George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Mahatma and Indira Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, are those who rose to inspire their countries in times of turmoil and change; so it seems that circumstances are just as important as character. Their personal characteristics, and even morals, differed widely — but they were able to anticipate and articulate their nations' needs and aspirations. Washington, the least verbal of these leaders, was so famous for always telling the truth that the cherry tree fable — "I cannot tell a lie" — easily took hold as true.
In the primary battle between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama the word "great" was sprinkled like grass seed, blanketing the ground on which they stumped. In retrospect, we can say it was a great show: like classical dancers in a seemingly endless competition, Clinton and Obama posed and pirouetted around each other, and finally the audience voted. Surprise! The Democrats have stumbled into the right choice, where the potential for greatness still wavers in the air.
We have a charming niece who has worked for Hillary Clinton; she tells us that in person Senator Clinton is terrific. But although she ran a powerful race — virtually a draw — Clinton lost because of two specific flaws that indicate she's smart and strong, but not great. First, she failed as a judge of character, overestimating George Bush by twice supporting him on the war (she didn't think he'd do it); and underestimating Obama until he was too far ahead to catch (she didn't think he could do it). But Bush had already proved himself untrustworthy, and Obama had delivered his powerful keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention: She shouldn't have been caught off guard.
Second, she mismanaged her campaign. Although presenting herself as the candidate "ready from Day One," she was blindsided by someone she derided as a dreamer and a poet (ouch!). She was forced to play catch-up, switching to an attack mode which, while spottily effective, didn't place her in a good light next to someone preaching the high road. Obama, in truth, isn't all that eloquent; rather, in these loud mean-minded times, he speaks quietly and thoughtfully, reasoning rather than attacking.
Even Clinton's strengths — tenaciousness and courage against long odds — didn't translate well in this context. If she were as acute and experienced a manager as she claimed, she should have recognized, as many others did, that the math shut her out at least six weeks before she finally conceded; like our generals in Iraq, it seemed as if she and her team couldn't count. If she had thrown her support to Obama earlier, the Democratic party — and she herself — would be in a stronger position today. Now, it's hard to imagine Obama even thinking about choosing Clinton as Vice-president.
Of course sexism played a part here, and yet it was much less important in this race than if, say, she'd been running against Mitt Romney or Rudy Giuliani. Because her opponents were Obama and John McCain, certainly negatively affected by racism and ageism, these "-isms" more or less cancel each other out. Which is worst isn't clear; I'd vote for racism — anti-Obama racist blogs are already mushrooming — but all three are nasty. (The recent New Yorker cover, whatever one thinks of it, satirized this racism; it will look better two months from now).
A sign that Obama might have what it takes: everyone copies him. He uses the internet, everyone tries to match it; he runs on "change," everyone changes to change; He says he'll talk to our enemies, the formerly mute administration begins talking to Iran; he says he'd make a time-table to get out of Iraq, Prime Minister Maliki and Bush start talking time-tables.
McCain's chances of being great are, like Clinton's, dimmed by his campaign, in which he has repeatedly backed the Bush doctrines. He's trying to ride the "success" of the surge, but the Iraq war is still a moral, fiscal and practical disaster. As General Clark inelegantly pointed out, even McCain's justly celebrated war record is more for bravery than brains. He wasn't a military leader in the sense that Washington, Ulysses S. Grant, or Dwight Eisenhower were. He was a prisoner of war who behaved honorably.
Obama, like McCain, as they throw out wider and wider nets, has been backing away from earlier promises, so it's far too early to fasten the laurel leaf of "greatness" around his head. But he has lots of time to steady himself; and he's the only one left with a chance at transforming our country.
Here's a stanza from "To the Rulers," by the American poet Howard Nemerov (1920-1991):
We read and hear about you every day,
What you decide we need, or want, or may
Be made to stand still for … Now let us pray.
This article appears in Jul 23-29, 2008.