I remember watching the presidential debates between Barack Obama and John McCain. After the first debate I thought Obama—my preferred candidate—had handled himself well, but I was disappointed that he appeared much less aggressive than Senator McCain. McCain lambently dismissed Obama’s arguments, repeatedly saying he “doesn’t understand.” I waited for Obama’s counter-attack, but instead he was frustratingly passive.
Of course, by the third debate, this pattern had made John McCain appear condescending, grouchy, and even angry. Obama—while not full of fiery passion—was calm and collected.
This summer, Republican leaders and Blue Dog Democrats made everyone doubt whether the health care bill could pass the House of Representatives. Commentators said the much-discussed “public option” was dead, and they criticized the president for remaining aloof in the debate. However, as the summer neared its end, support for health care reform began returning. A poll by the Pew Research Center in mid-September showed that a majority of Americans thought the opponents of health care reform had been “rude and disrespectful.” Charles Blow of The New York Times observed that “While anger can simmer forever, overheated outrage is exhausting and ultimately counterproductive.” Of course, the health care bill passed the House of Representatives—with a public option. It now has a difficult path to tread in the Senate, but this is the furthest health care reform has come under any president. In the same column, Blow compared Obama to the tortoise from Aesop’s Fable, “The Tortoise and the Hare.” In his presidential debates and health care reform, Obama seemed to be playing a longer game than everyone else.
The process of Obama’s decision on Afghanistan may have proven Blow’s metaphor. Two months ago, General McChrystal’s recommendation for 40,000 more soldiers was leaked to the media, and Obama came under intense pressure to either double down in Afghanistan or withdraw. Initially, commentators commended the president for taking time to carefully choose a way forward. Eventually, opinion on Obama’s reticence changed. Roger Cohen of The New York Times called this period “the long think.” John McCain criticized the president for “sounding an uncertain trumpet.” Most justifiably, our allies in NATO grew frustrated. Leaders like Gordon Brown of the United Kingdom—whose party has become the second-most popular in Britain—had committed more troops to an unpopular war in Afghanistan, and now the American president was considering withdrawing altogether. The Canadian Defense Minister, Peter MacKay, described Obama’s hesitation as “not helpful.”
The president even announced his final decision in stages. More soldiers. 30,000 more soldiers. 30,000 more soldiers quickly deployed. 30,000 more soldiers quickly deployed and quickly brought home. When Obama finally spoke to America, it was an explanation, not a battle cry. American columnists disagreed about the wisdom of Obama’s decision, but most of them voiced faith in his thought process.
David Ignatius of The Washington Post described Obama as “cool and analytical . . . focused and precise. He didn't talk about victory, and he didn't raise his voice. He did not attempt to convey the blood and tears of the battlefield, or the punishing loneliness of command. Even in this most intense and consequential decision of his presidency, he remains ‘no-drama Obama.’”
David Brooks wrote that Obama had negotiated the arguments for and against the war “in a serious manner,” and he was taking “brave political risks.” Brooks praised the president’s pragmatism, saying that—while in a perfect world Obama’s troop increase would have been larger—an increase of 30,000 soldiers and a quick withdrawal “may be the best strategy under the circumstances.”
Finally, in his article opposing the troop surge in Afghanistan, Tom Friedman’s tone was apologetic, as though he wanted to be an Obama believer, but just couldn’t. “I recognize that there are legitimate arguments on the other side . . . [T]he president lucidly argued that opting for a surge now to help Afghans rebuild their army and state into something decent . . . offered the only hope . . . to bring long-term stability to that region. May it be so.”
David Brooks most aptly described Obama’s coolness, labeling his governing style as “biased toward complexity.” Brooks concluded that “it is in Obama’s nature to lead a government by symposium. Embrace the complexity. Learn to live with the dispassion.”
Indeed, Obama has consistently forsaken bluster for consideration, frustrating his supporters and outlasting his opponents. Think back to the news media in the run-up to the Iraq War. American society was in a different place then, but our best columnists—people who must lead the way in a democracy—were angry and dismissive toward opponents. Much of the country seems to be adopting some of Obama’s rationality and dialectical style.. If Obama continues to strike this rhetorical balance accurately—and if his decisions pan out to be good ones—I think one of his most significant contributions as president may not be any individual policy, but rather a change in temperament in our government and a slight curve toward cold pragmatism in our policy-making.
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