The weight and the gap

President Bush took flak for much of what he said in the final days of his presidency as he went on his Legacy Rehabilitation Tour. Most of it was deserved. But one of the things he said was entirely reasonable:

Even in the darkest moments of Iraq, you know, there was -- and every day when I was reading the reports about soldiers losing their lives, no question there was a lot of emotion, but also there was times where we could be light-hearted and support each other.

I have no love for this man. But we should all hope that Bush could find ways to stay "light-hearted."

Last night, a friend told me that he thought all the parties surrounding the inauguration were too much. In times like these, what is President Obama doing dancing at ten parties, basking in the glow of so much adulation?

I think this is an apt time to reflect on the weight we place on our presidents. Many criticized Bush for not attending military funerals and not seeming to mourn military deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan. And perhaps, as a leader, he ought to have made more public displays of sorrow. But this belies a different question: how bad should he have actually felt?

I don't know why anybody wants to be president. I don't know why anybody wants to carry that weight. Because yes, you have to seem as if you care a great deal, when you make decisions and people die.

But presidents need the fortitude to make those decisions, decisions that spell death on a horrific scale. And after they make those decisions, they need the fortitude to make them again and again, without stumbling, without stopping to take a breath, without blinking.

So, let's be clear about what we ask of these people. We ask them to stand on the right side of the narrow gap between heroes and monsters. So, we shouldn't be surprised if they find ways to stay "light-hearted" or throw themselves a few big parties in difficult times. Better a party than a pogrom.

Better a light heart than one made of stone.

Something old, something new

On Hardball's inauguration coverage, Pat Buchanan called himself a "traditional conservative." That's how he prefaced a comment where he complemented President Obama's inaugural address.

I would have liked his comment more if he would have prefaced it by calling himself a "real whackjob." That's the kind of self-knowledge that would have won a bit of my love.

But, in other news, how nice are those two words that appear above: "President Obama." Still sinking in, still awesome, still the first step in a journey that hopefully will end with us moving in the right direction.

The opacity of hope

Reaction to Obama’s choice of Rick Warren has been swift and predictable. People are unhappy. I don’t blame them. And, as my first substantive post should demonstrate, I take a dim view of the role religion plays in our politics.

I don’t know why Obama chose Warren. There are different ways to read this. Maybe Obama finds common cause with Warren on many issues, and doesn’t consider his views on same-sex marriage and abortion (and whatever other odious views he has) deal-breakers. Maybe he wants to strike an inclusive tone, painting the Democratic Party as the one with a bigger tent. Or maybe it’s just a cynical play for political capital, a bone to moderate evangelicals that will help Obama push through the first elements of his agenda. I’m sure there are other possibilities.

What I don’t understand is why this move surprises anyone. I guess a campaign based on hope would damage our cynicism. But people who expect to dine on more than half a loaf during the next four years should realize that their eyes are bigger than Obama’s stomach.

The need for Democratic presidential candidates to become everything to everyone has become an inexorable part of the party’s ethos. You have to step back from the Bush’s stance on torture, but not without rattling enough sabers to ensure everyone that you’re tough on national security. You need to pay lip service to Palestinians, but never allow the GOP to out-Israel you. You need to seem open-minded, but not say anything too critical about our most extreme Christian religious zealots.

This isn’t something that the Obama campaign rejected. This is something it embodied. The focus on branding, the big slogans, the lofty rhetoric, this is all part of embracing a politics that has more to do with striking the perfect balance than putting forth and defending an ambitious, detailed agenda.

I’m not suggesting that Obama doesn’t have such an agenda in mind. I’m sure he does. But the politics that brought him to power don’t give us reason for disappointment or excuse for surprise. The Rick Warrens of the world are here to stay.