For purposes of full disclosure, I should confess that until recently, my interest in politics, economics, history and other such high-minded topics of intellectual dinner-party conversation has always taken second place to breezy news and current affairs of the more agreeable, celebrity-infused kind.
I still shudder at the memory of my application to get into Ulster
University’s Journalism course back in 1995. Having spent most of my
adult life discarding everything but the Style and glossy supplements
of the weekly Sunday papers, I recall a full fortnight spent studying
every black and white fact-filled daily page of The Times, The
Independent, The Guardian, The Belfast Telegraph and The News Letter
with highlighter pen in hand, making lists of who governed which country,
what they did, how they were elected and why. The admission interview
lasted about three minutes until the caustic lady with the helmet hair
stood up and directed me to the door before I wasted any more of her
time. “Come back in a few years,” she sighed, “when you can define the
term broadsheet. And no, ‘bigger than a tabloid’ doesn’t count.”
So don’t ask me to recite every member of Gordon Brown’s cabinet, but the names and birthdays of Brangelina’s growing multinational brood? Check. These eyes will glaze over at talk of the federal budget deficit but start a discussion on the Diana Conspiracy? Check.
And while I may not be able to argue much about the intricacies of the Cuban Missile Crisis, it won’t be long before you’ll hear how Jackie Kennedy used the power of couture to build international goodwill around the world. Like in Paris, 1961, when she wore a Givenchy dress to President Charles de Gaulle’s state dinner in an eloquently subtle, diplomatic nod to French culture that in its own special way helped nurture future US-Gallic relations… And so on and so forth.
To re-phrase the wise words of Sherlock Holmes, there’s only so much data that our cluttered brain attics can hold at any one time, so I’ve always proceeded in the belief that it is important to be selective in one’s pursuit of knowledge in this busy, information-overloaded world. To date, I’m shamefully proud to say, my main focus has always been pop culture, and in that, I have always been an expert.
Enter Senator Obama. Suddenly, politics - US politics in particular - became cool, and hip, with its cool and hip new Presidential candidate. In fact, the very moment John McCain started denigrating his opponent as a ‘celebrity’ was the moment the Republicans arguably lost the election, perpetuated when they decided to introduce an astoundingly unqualified celebrity mascot of their own in the form of Sarah Palin. And so as the drama and the gossip unfolded, that’s pretty much when I sat up and took notice.
It must be said, that for any new political aficionado, there was no better place than DC to witness the mechanics of democracy at work as 18 months of fractious campaigning drew to a close and Senator Barack Obama went on to win the 2008 election, with a decisive, pre-midnight victory.
For a start, he collected 93% of the District’s popular vote, so the streets and bars could not have been more headily or noisily bluer. And at 9.00 pm, that plump, bacon-topped All American cheeseburger in the Old Ebbitt Bar & Grill (675 15th Street NW, Washington DC 20005) tasted all the more delicious while watching the returns and receiving simultaneous compliments from strangers about my brightly colored “Yes We Can 2008” baseball cap. It made me feel like I belonged and was playing my own crucial part in election day, notwithstanding the fact that (1) I couldn’t vote and (2) my hat and I had spent all afternoon surrounded by sworn Obama fans who hardly needed much convincing anyway.
The environment did, however, provide an opportunity for one of my favorite games of the day, namely introducing my traveling companion (aka the Ex) to random Democrats as an ardent McCain/Palin supporter, then taking a step backwards and chuckling mischievously to myself in the hope that I’d see him have to leg it out the door to avoid getting thumped. Of course, I didn’t credit the fact that liberals are largely non-violent people and pretty good at spotting one of their own. After a few failed attempts, I figured it would be better to embrace the bipartisan spirit of the times and in true Hillary fashion, finally forgive him for dumping me eight years ago. Which, ironically enough, was around the same time the departing President took office. Given the prevailing mood in the air, it did seem appropriate to Just Let Go and Move On.
While it would have been wonderful to join the crowds in Chicago, it was particularly appropriate to ride this seismic sea-change in America’s history, watch the country (as Bill Maher said) reboot itself in such a thorough, dramatic way, surrounded by the ecclesiastical majesty of the capital city itself. In this respect DC reminded me very much of Rome, not just because it represents a secular mirror to the Vatican City’s rich spiritualism, but in the easy way in which the chaos of the modern world can live so comfortably alongside such imposing emblems of history. All those somber cathedrals, the austerity of the Supreme Court steps, the enormous columned memorials honoring Washington, Lincoln and Jefferson, just like the Coliseum and the Pantheon, rising sedately above the day-to-day grind and bustle of traffic, metro stations, hotel lobbies, coffee shops and tourists. Not to mention the almost comical effect of walking round a corner, struggling with an umbrella and looking up to see the White House, just sitting there in the drizzle, calm and iconic, in the middle of everything.
By 1 am that morning, while it may have been iconic, it was anything but calm. After watching Obama’s victory speech at the Hawk & Dove bar on Capitol Hill (329 Pennsylvania Avenue, SE between Third & Fourth Streets), we decided to walk all the way back to the hotel on L Street and savor the atmosphere: it was electric, horns blowing, people cheering, jumping out of cars, strangers hugging and fist-bumping each other on the sidewalks. It was as if County Down had won the All Ireland Final, all over again, except better.
Somehow, we found ourselves right outside the White House gates in the middle of a gathering, delighted crowd. Joan Baez was there, apparently, hanging loose with everyone else. Under the wary, watchful eyes of bemused Secret Service agents striding across the distant, Presidential roof, the singing started with drums beating and American flags at last proudly waving amidst joyful chants for change.
It was incredible. For the first time in nearly a decade, optimism was really celebrated that night. Granted, it was partly about getting rid of an unpopular leader, but more importantly, it was thrilling that a country so divided by racism in the past, a country in which slavery once existed, had seen fit to elect a young, black President. Not only that, but a young, black intelligent President, whose understanding of history and the Constitution, whose sensitivity towards the needs of the people within the US and appreciation of the world without, far surpasses any purported lack of executive experience. Regardless of the disastrous economy, regardless of the fact that in the cold light of day, Mr. Obama has an unenviable task ahead of him, and regardless of what happens in the future, for that short, shining night, the Americans around us were justifiably proud of themselves for what they had done, and were relishing the realization that this truly is a country where anything is possible. And we were more than happy to share in the moment and celebrate with them.
