Obama sketched out a different theory of social change than the one Clinton had implied earlier in the evening. Instead of relying on a president who fights for those who feel invisible, Obama, in the climactic passage of his speech, described how change bubbles from the bottom-up: “And because that somebody stood up, a few more stood up. And then a few thousand stood up. And then a few million stood up. And standing up, with courage and clear purpose, they somehow managed to change the world!â€
For people raised on Jane Jacobs, who emphasized how a spontaneous dynamic order could emerge from thousands of individual decisions, this is a persuasive way of seeing the world. For young people who have grown up on Facebook, YouTube, open-source software and an array of decentralized networks, this is a compelling theory of how change happens.
Clinton had sounded like a traditional executive, as someone who gathers the experts, forges a policy, fights the opposition, bears the burdens of power, negotiates the deal and, in crisis, makes the decision at 3 o’clock in the morning.
But Obama sounded like a cross between a social activist and a flannel-shirted software C.E.O. — as a nonhierarchical, collaborative leader who can inspire autonomous individuals to cooperate for the sake of common concerns.
Clinton had sounded like Old Politics, but Obama created a vision of New Politics. And the past several months have revolved around the choice he framed there that night. Some people are enthralled by the New Politics, and we see their vapors every day. Others think it is a mirage and a delusion. There’s only one politics, and, tragically, it’s the old kind, filled with conflict and bad choices.
Loved This
and wanted to add how it made me think of my Pulitzer-prize winning editorial writing prof in college back in the early 1970s as a journalism major. Buddy Davis in class one day impressed us with the point that you use the arguments that will persuade your audience, not necessarily the ones YOU prefer. To illustrate this point he told us the story of how he had editorialized against George Wallace for president. He certainly could have gotten his personal liberal arguments against Wallace printed, no problem, but he figured those reasons wouldn't have dissuaded any Wallace voters.
What he needed to do instead of indulging his own beliefs, he told us michievously, was to cast about for an effective argument that would give southern white men serious pause before voting Wallace. That could make a real difference. (The men he called Joe Sixpack.)
So he wrote his editorial arguing that a man in a wheelchair nd therefore unable to control his own bowels, might not be able to control the country. A despicable argument (which he readily acknowledged) yet much more effective at reaching the audience that needed to be influenced, and thus much better editorial writing to change the world than any argument from liberal principle would have been . . .