In Barack Obama’s final days in office, he found himself in the painful position of trying to console his staff, the Democratic Party, and millions of supporters. He attempted to convince them—even if he could not entirely convince himself—that the looming Presidency of Donald Trump was not a national calamity. In the past, he would say, the country had endured slavery, the Civil War, the Great Depression, Jim Crow, assassinations. And, though Trump was alarming in many ways, America was blessed by the strength of its institutions and the resilience of its people. The word “guardrails” was uttered constantly. In Obama’s estimation, Trump would not erase all his achievements. As he put it, “Maybe fifteen per cent of that gets rolled back.”
This kind of calm was pure Obama. His appeal had as much to do with character and temperament as it did with his center-left ideology. Although Obama believed that Trump’s ugliest slurs against him, particularly his deployment of the birther theory, were a racist outrage that heightened the threats against him and his family, he now took pains to set aside his contempt. Insuring that there was another orderly transition of power—that, too, was part of his rhetoric of consolation.
Such poise was not easy to sustain. When Obama met Trump for a ritual pre-Inauguration visit to the Oval Office, he was struck by how unschooled and incurious the President-elect was. Trump, Obama told people, seemed indifferent to hearing about potential national-security perils—North Korea, Russia—preferring to brag about the size of the crowds at his campaign rallies. Obama pitched Trump on preserving several of his signature achievements, including the Affordable Care Act and the Iran nuclear deal. Trump responded that he would consider the request, and Obama thought it was not impossible that he meant it.
Obama travelled to Greece and spoke about the virtues of democracy; he thanked the people who had worked on his campaigns and his supporters. With a Trump Presidency ahead, these were wearing performances. And so, to provide some relief and release, Obama also put on a series of upbeat valedictory events at the White House. Bruce Springsteen, a friend of the Obamas’, played an acoustic concert for staff in the East Room. He dedicated “Tougher Than the Rest” to Barack and Michelle and ended by playing an anthem of American inclusiveness, “Land of Hope and Dreams.” Obama, who had started thinking about his memoirs, hosted a lunch with some of his favorite writers: Zadie Smith, Junot Díaz, Barbara Kingsolver, Colson Whitehead, and Dave Eggers. “What surprised me was how completely unbowed President Obama was, how certain he was that the country would find its way,” Díaz later wrote. “He burned with optimism and faith invincible.”
The most exuberant farewell event—a dance party at the White House—took place on January 6th. It was a freezing night, and people shivered outside as they waited to get past security. There were campaign donors and loyal staffers in the crowd, but also a starry list of entertainment executives, musicians, actors, and athletes: Barry Diller, Oprah Winfrey, John Legend and Chrissy Teigen, Paul McCartney, George Clooney, Robert De Niro, Meryl Streep, Magic Johnson. Questlove was the music director. Stevie Wonder and Solange performed. The Electric Slide was danced, with Michelle Obama very much in the lead. As dawn approached, chicken and waffles were served.
“There was laughing, there was loving, there was hugs,” Chance the Rapper said in a video he posted at 4:33A.M.“It was historic, it was Black, it was beautiful.” And yet there were distinctly mixed emotions at the party, and it was no mystery why: the first Black President was being replaced by someone who had expressed little but scorn for him. Janelle Monáe, leaving the dance floor in a lather of sweat, told someone why she had kept at it for so long. “That’s easy,” she said. “No way I’m getting invited back tothishouse anytime soon.”
Years later, Sharon Malone, a Washington doctor and the wife of the former Attorney General Eric Holder, said, about that night, “You realized that an era was coming to an end, and it was the last moment of joy we were going to have in that White House.” She added, “We were making the best of a bad situation.”
Ten days before Trump moved in, Obama flew to Chicago, where he had launched his political career, to deliver a speech that laid out his case for why the country was where it was. Rising economic inequality had sparked the cynicism and polarization that lifted Trump into office, he said. He called on different ethnic and racial groups to listen to one another from a position of trust, and to build a new social contract. “We all have to try harder,” he said. “We all have to start with the premise that each of our fellow-citizens loves this country just as much as we do.” He finished with a promise about the battles ahead: “I will be right there with you, as a citizen, for all of my remaining days.”
A few weeks ago, I spoke to Obama about how he’s spent the past decade—and whether events have shaken the confidence that he expressed in that farewell speech. “I would be dishonest if I didn’t acknowledge that,” he replied. How Obama has used his time—including since Trump returned to office—says much about how he sees his role, its potential and its limits.
On January 20, 2017, as Donald Trump was being sworn in as the forty-fifth President, the Obamas sat on the reviewing stand. Michelle noted the predominantly white and male faces around them. At some point, she stopped even trying to smile. “There was no color on that stage,” she said later. “There was no reflection of the broader sense of America.”
Source: Drudge Report
