Good and evil in politics

By Randy David
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 02:01:00 09/12/2009

As my previous columns on politics may have shown, I am one of those who squirm each time I
hear people reduce Philippine politics today into a fight between good and evil. I view this way of
thinking as a residual habit from traditional society. And so to hear it from modern Filipinos who
ought to know better is truly dismaying and alarming.

I don’t know what prompted Sen. Manuel “Mar” Roxas II, perhaps the most modern of those who
have aspired for the presidency, to say in a recent Inquirer interview: “You know, this is good
versus evil. This is tuwid versus baluktot. This is tama versus mali.” The interviewer, who had
merely asked how he felt after his momentous withdrawal from the presidential race, wondered if
she got it right: “As simple as that?” And Mar replied: “Yes. That’s why I was very willing to
engage in this; it’s because it boils down to that. All the frustrations, all the anger, all the hopes of
our people—it’s not anymore in the policy this or policy that. It’s just good versus evil. You
know, that’s the campaign the reformists are going to wage.” Wow! I hope Mar uttered this more
out of a sense of frustration than as a matter of conviction.

For, such moralistic formulations preempt and disparage the need for a careful and reasoned
analysis of the problems that confront us as a nation. They tend to focus on the character of the
doer than on the origins and consequences of the deed. They ride on unexamined moral
prejudices, and simplify the search for political solutions into a quest for heroes. Gloria
Macapagal-Arroyo may be the most despised president in the nation’s history, but instead of
ascribing to her sole authorship of everything that is bad in our government, I find it more
arguable to think of her as a reflection of our society’s basic problems, or the street-smart
personification of a dysfunctional social order.

I recognize the emotional power of moral language in everyday life. But, instead of exploiting it,
I think it gives us all the more reason to use it sparingly in public affairs. In complex societies
like ours, we can no longer take for granted the existence of moral consensus. Though they may
use the same words, today’s Filipinos are likely to have different notions of what constitutes good
and evil in various situations. Moreover, we may find that most of the moral dilemmas we
encounter in everyday life are not so much choices between good and evil, as they are conflicts of
values—choices between two equally desirable goods.

After Marcos proclaimed martial law in 1972, many of our people accepted the restrictions on
their civil liberties and political rights in exchange for the promise of peace and order and
economic prosperity. Had he succeeded in using his vast authoritarian powers to transform the
Philippines in the same way Lee Kwan Yew rebuilt Singapore, he would likely be remembered
today as a statesman rather than as a tyrant. But because he failed, only the abuses that were
committed by him and his regime are remembered.

For this and many other reasons, it was not difficult to portray Marcos as the incarnation of evil in
the 1986 snap presidential election. To combat evil, what the nation felt it needed was not another
politician but someone of Marian purity, a person who could symbolize everything that was good
and decent in our culture. There was no one else but Cory, the widow of the martyred Ninoy.
Where politics had poisoned society, her political inexperience became a virtue. This morality

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tale quickly seized the imagination of the public. It shaped our politics in unexpected ways. It
foretold the end of the Marcos regime, but it also defined the terms of the people’s engagement
with the Cory government.

Instead of treating social reform as a continuing project of people power, Filipinos promptly
withdrew from public affairs, preferring to leave the business of governing to the good men and
women that Mother Cory had recruited. They were caught unaware by the power struggles that
ensued among those who had fought Marcos. Many could not understand the virulence of the
coup attempts against Cory, except as an effort to bring back the evil that was Marcos. But the
“evil” did not go away with Marcos, it continued to reside in the system.

The reality is that while it is a great advantage for a nation to have an incorruptible president, it is
not enough. Beyond serving as a moral exemplar, a modern leader is expected to be a statesman
whose function—said the political philosopher Hannah Arendt—“was not to act but to impose
permanent rules on the changing circumstances and unstable affairs of acting men.” In short, to
build institutions.

Today, Noynoy Aquino finds himself cast in the same role that his mother played in 1986. He
must not waste this chance to form a durable constituency to support a vision and program of
social and cultural transformation. Because of the credibility he enjoys, Noynoy is uniquely
situated to wage a campaign to change our people’s beliefs about politics in general—to make
them see how, in many ways, they too unwittingly contribute to the problems that bug our
society.

I would advise him against playing the morality card not only because it has no place in modern
politics, but because it conceals the complex nature of our problems and the solutions they
require. It is correct, in my view, to zero in on the record of the Arroyo government as the main
issue in 2010, not in terms of the kind of person Arroyo is, but in terms of the kind of governance
she exemplified from which she could not rise as president. But, we cannot stop there; we must
take pains to define the alternative.

***

Warlords in a weak state

By Randy David
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 21:52:00 11/27/2009

MEDIA reports and analyses of the Nov. 23 gruesome mass murder of 57 innocent civilians in
Maguindanao have highlighted different aspects of the culture of warlordism in Muslim
Mindanao. Their common starting point is the rido, the clan wars that have persisted in many
parts of Philippine society, transferring unresolved antipathies to younger generations as part of
the family legacy. But rido alone cannot explain what happened in Maguindanao. A fuller
analysis must take into account the weak state in which it is framed.

Family feuds are certainly not unique to our society. They thrive wherever kinship remains the
dominant principle for organizing an individual’s participation in the larger social world. They

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usually disappear as a society grows in complexity. The individual becomes entangled in the
multiple crosscutting ties offered by the modern world. Thus the kinsman becomes a citizen, a
university student, a journalist, a member of a political party, a Rotarian, a doctor or a soldier in
the army, or falls in love with someone outside the clan.

This is a process that does not always occur smoothly. For many postcolonial societies like ours,
the transition to modernity has been very uneven, spawning problems that are not easily solved in
either the traditional or strictly modern way. Instead of withering away in obsolescence, clans can
often draw new vitality from the modern institutions into which they are grafted. This could give
rise to something as benign as a family corporation, or to something fundamentally vicious. The
traditional absolutism of these patriarchal clans, when fused with the immense resources of the
modern state, can spawn barbarians of the most lethal and abusive kind. This, exactly, is what has
happened to varying degrees in our society.

The massacre in Maguindanao may stand out for a long time for its brazenness and heinousness,
but the forces that shaped it are by no means isolated or peculiar to Muslim Mindanao. They lurk
in many regions of our country, providing support to various activities—political and economic,
legal and illegal—and feeding from the institutional structures of modern society. One only needs
to take a look at the local leaders and organizers of the party in power in order to produce a map
of modern warlordism in the Philippines. In their ranks, any observer will find an assortment of
gambling lords, smugglers, drug lords, human traffickers, and leaders of crime syndicates, who,
without exception, maintain private armies. Many of them have become big players in the world
of business and politics, gaining reputations as benevolent entrepreneurs, displacing the
traditional warlords from the landed oligarchy. They operate through networks and layers of
patronage, demanding from their followers unconditional loyalty in exchange for economic
security and assisted access to the offices of the state. But whereas the feudal lords softened their
rule by appeals to culture, the new warlords govern mainly through intimidation and violence.

Like the jueteng lords operating from behind the façade of the legal Small Town Lottery (STL),
warlords like the Ampatuans accumulate and deploy their awesome power from behind their legal
positions as government officials. Their links to national politics are not mediated by political
parties, but are forged, like all patronage ties, directly with the principal bosses in government.
The Ampatuans do not care if they are expelled from the administration’s Lakas-Kampi-CMD
party; what would hurt them is if Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, their principal patron, turns her back
on them.

These people do not bother to recruit proxies to run for public office and represent their interests;
they themselves become the officers of the state, bequeathing public positions to their children as
if these were part of the family heirloom. Their private armies, usually entered as “force
multipliers” in the war against terrorism and crime, are paid for and maintained with government
funds. Even the local police are “their” police. The internal revenue allotment (IRA), given
regularly to local government units, becomes their private cash box. No government auditor
would dare question their expenditures. What we have here is the colonization of the weak state
by local warlords recycled as public officials.

This situation, so pervasive still in our country today, will not disappear as long as our national
politicians choose the path of enlisting outmoded local power systems into their political parties,
rather than patiently create modern organs of political aggregation appropriate to a democracy.

3
When the national leadership is strong and rests on a clear popular mandate, it is in a better
position to dismantle the anachronistic local power centers that operate side by side state
institutions. It need not tolerate, or worse accommodate, the existence of parallel sultanates and
their abusive armies. But where we have an insecure leadership that colludes with a broad range
of non-accountable forces to keep itself in power, it is the modern state that withers away.

This, in a nutshell, is the story of our society’s troubled transition to modernity. The transition has
not merely prolonged the life of feudal lords; it has equipped them with the latest weaponry, and
given them strategic positions in the modern state from which they could continue their
oppressive rule. We have indeed paid a high price for allowing an illegitimate president to take
charge of the state.

***

The case against political dynasties

By Randy David
Inquirer
First Posted 08:03:00 04/15/2007

MANILA, Philippines -- The theory is that if a society has to deal effectively with the challenges
of an increasingly complex world, it must itself grow in complexity. This means it must evolve
differentiated and autonomous institutions. This is what modernity is about.

Traditional societies assign multiple functions to dominant institutions like the family, the church
and the government. Modern societies, in contrast, unpack these bundled functions and allocate
them to distinct institutions.

Thus, for example, the quest for truth is progressively de-linked from ecclesiastical authority and
becomes the prerogative of scientific institutions, usually housed in the modern university.
Governance is de-linked from the family and the church, and becomes the responsibility of a
professional administrative service and of the political system.

Economic activity is de-linked from the family, and later from the State as well, and evolves its
own independent operational code. Religion retreats from the political sphere, even as it tries to
maintain its hold on the moral life of society. The family sheds off its political, economic and
cultural functions and becomes exclusively a zone of nurturance and intimacy.

These are social processes that are triggered by a society’s need to adapt to a changing terrain.
They are the result not so much of legislation but of the accumulation of concrete changes in the
societal environment. There are times when the laws are promulgated ahead of the conditions that
make their realization possible. These result in dead laws. Many of the provisions found in
Article II (Declaration of Principles and State Policies) of the 1987 Constitution are of this nature.
They articulate a yearning for reform and indicate a desirable direction for societal development,
but they do not create the conditions that bring about reform.

One of them precisely is Section 26 of Art. II: “The State shall guarantee equal access to
opportunities for public service, and prohibit political dynasties as may be defined by law.” This
constitutional intention is evidently more honored in the breach than in the conformance. The

4
failure of Congress to pass a law that defines and prohibits political dynasties is proof that the
present state of Philippine society is way behind the modernist thought that inspired this
constitutional provision.

Even so, some groups have taken the intention of the Constitution to heart and are waging a
crusade against candidates coming from perceived political clans. Among the most determined is
the Citizens Anti-Dynasty Movement spearheaded by US-based Filipino author Roger Olivares.
He has compiled what is possibly the most complete list of Filipino political families.
(www.endpoliticaldynasty.com).

This is a legitimate cause and is an integral part of the political function of the public in a
democracy. It hits both the administration and the opposition. It puts members of political clans
on the defensive and focuses attention on the need to actualize the democratic value of “equal
access to opportunities for public service.”

This crusade, however, can only go so far in curing the problem. The proliferation of political
dynasties is itself only a symptom of a bigger malaise—the absence of any real political
competition in our society. If you just treat the symptoms—for example, imposing term limits
and banning political dynasties—the disease will likely manifest itself in other forms. For now,
the political family is the carrier of the virus. In the future, it could be the corporate mafia, or the
religious cult. In Central America, it is the narcotics syndicate. Instead of political parties that
promote clear social visions and programs, the preferred political vehicles are the feudal
formations controlled by patriarchs and bosses that dispense protection and patronage.

This is not to say that Philippine society has remained static over the years. While admittedly, we
have not gone very far in developing modern political parties, we must also note that the
dominance of traditional political clans has not gone unchallenged. The world of mass media has
spawned celebrities who have found it natural to migrate to politics. They are giving traditional
politicians a run for their money. They are only the most visible. The managerial class is also
bringing out a whole new breed of administrators who are keen to contest political positions.
They are, however, deterred by the increasingly astronomical costs of running for public office.
Without clear rules regulating campaign finance, and without strict enforcement of election laws,
the entry of new players will only serve to inflate the costs of getting elected.

The more expensive elections get, the more they become a contest exclusively of the wealthy and
the media celebrities. But beyond that, the more expensive public office becomes, the greater the
temptation to recover election costs through corruption. It is a vicious cycle: the more public
office is seen as a franchise to make money, the more money is poured to gain it.

The problem, in the final analysis, is our society’s lopsided structure of opportunities that allows
a few to monopolize wealth and power, while consigning the vast majority of our people to a life
of dependency and hopelessness. Hopefully, through education, we are slowly moving away from
this. An articulate public is espousing new values. That is a good start, but we have a long way to
go.

***

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The future of political families
By Randy David
Inquirer
First Posted 06:46:00 01/28/2007

THE current debate on the propriety of so-called “political dynasties” in a democracy is quite
interesting. While focused on the prospective senatorial candidacies of Alan Peter Cayetano, JV
Ejercito and Aquilino Pimentel III—who all have close kin in the present Senate—the issue is
bound to affect many others at different levels of the political hierarchy. The criticism of the role
of kinship in Philippine politics has never been more pronounced. We can take it as a positive
sign of the growing assertion of modern values in the nation’s political life.

Candidates from the political families are, of course, correct in saying they cannot choose their
families, that there is no law against political dynasties at the moment, and that in the end it is the
voters who will decide. Yet it is one thing to recognize the reality of the Filipino family as a
powerful generator of political careers. It is another to accept this as a fact of life that should not
bother anyone. It does bother many Filipinos. It bothers even a few decent candidates who, even
as they justify their candidacies as standing firmly on personal achievement and merit, also
apologetically admit they are riding on name-recall and family identification.

Is the coupling of politics and family in our society unshakeable? It may seem so for now. But I
think it is becoming increasingly difficult for members of political clans to explain why they are
running by simply pointing to their family’s supposed tradition of public service. Though we may
be far from being a modern democracy, the values by which we seek to justify inequalities today
are changing. I like to think they are no longer feudal. This is true for power as it is for wealth.
The same process is slowly working its way in the realm of the economy. Many large family
corporations are already realizing they must broaden their field of recruitment and hire
professional managers from outside the family circle if they are to survive in the modern world
economy.

The shift from inherited sinecures to earned positions will happen not because of any specific
legislation banning dynasties but because of changes in the circumstances of our people. More
and more of our people are better educated and richer in outlook because of travel; and their
sources of information are more varied because of modern media. These are factors that create a
vibrant middle class. This is happening, however, without a meaningful decline in mass poverty.
This paradox is at the heart of the impatient assertion of modern political values (sometimes
exploding as people power) in the face of a tenacious system of patronage that feeds on poverty
and dependence.

Much has changed in our society in the last 50 years. While it is true that political clans have
persisted, it is also undeniable that many old families that used to dominate the political
landscape at the provincial level have lost much of their power or have vanished from politics
altogether. There was a time when Ilocos politics was inconceivable without the Crisologos,
Pampanga politics without the Lazatins and Nepomucenos, Zambales politics without the
Barrettos, Cavite politics without the Montanos, Batangas politics without the Laurels, etc. That
is no longer the case today. If a careful accounting of political families nationwide were to be
undertaken, we are likely to find not an unbroken pattern of dynastic continuity but of decline.

6
It is not to say that no new political families have arisen, or that, given the chance, today’s
politicians will not try to establish their own dynasties. It’s almost certain they will, but their shelf
life will be much shorter. New players are emerging every election year, bringing with them the
patina of public recognition earned elsewhere. Some of them may even come from the old
political families. If Kris Aquino were to run for senator in the 2007 election, she would surely
top the list of winners—not so much because she is an Aquino, but because she is the host of the
popular TV game show “Deal or No Deal.” This is the same medium that catapulted Loren
Legarda and Noli de Castro, both without any political pedigree.

TV celebrities like them who have made a mark on free television will continue for some time to
wield a decisive advantage in our political life. They will be sought out by parties to stand as
candidates or as political endorsers. This is a reflection of the current dominance of television in
the daily life of the average Filipino, a development that has been largely underwritten by
overseas work. It is this centrality of television in the shaping of public consciousness that is also
shifting the center of gravity of electoral campaigns from face-to-face sorties to media
appearances and costly advertisements.

Are we then looking into a future political system dominated by TV hosts, actors, sports heroes,
and the like? As traditional politicians lose their influence, media celebrities may be tempted to
follow Erap’s example and spin their popularity into a political career. But even this will end
when platform-based political parties are formed and can gather enough political clout to be able
to rationalize the leadership recruitment process.

Every society is unique in its development. But the trajectory of political development in the
modern world is decidedly toward the formation of autonomous political systems that are not
merely adjuncts of clans, churches, or corporations. There is no other way to run a modern state
in an increasingly complex world environment.

***

Subversives
Randy David
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 22:27:00 03/27/2010

MANILA, Philippines—The party-list system was envisioned as a kind of political experiment to

provide marginalized sectors with the chance to be represented in the House of Representatives,
thereby presenting a counterbalance to the influence of the usual conservative, landed and
wealthy composition of that chamber. At first, the sectoral representatives were appointed by the
chief executive; then they were directly elected, with court cases setting the complicated
proportional formulas to be used in determining the number of congressional seats they won
based on the votes they got and the provisions of law. In this manner, the militant Left, most
notably, managed to secure a measure of representation in the House by establishing as many
different party lists as it could.

However, other groups also seized on the party-list system to elect representatives whose values
were more in harmony with the intents of the House’s traditional membership than with the
aspirations of the marginalized sectors. Against these groups, no restriction in law has really
worked: for example, the son of a prominent pastor has been a party-list representative despite the

7
outright prohibition on religious party lists. The basic constituency of that pastor’s son is the
father’s congregation, but his party list lays no claim to be a religious one, thus avoiding
disqualification.

This year, the Commission on Elections has made some party-list groups go through the eye of a
needle (recall the gay, lesbian and transgendered organization Ang Ladlad) while practically,
promiscuously allowing others to participate despite failing to meet qualification criteria for
competing in the elections. (For example, the Bigkis Pinoy party list, which is identified with
Pagcor chair Ephraim Genuino, has failed to make it in three previous elections and, therefore,
should have been excluded this time around.) The same election (2007) that had Jovito Palparan
trying to secure a House seat as a party-list representative also brought in President Gloria
Macapagal-Arroyo’s sister-in-law as a representative for the Ang Kasangga party list. This year,
the Arroyo family bloc in the House hopes to grow with the addition of the President herself, who
is running to take his son Mikey’s seat in Pampanga’s second district. Mikey himself is running
for a party-list seat under Ang Galing Pinoy. Aside from the sister-in-law and Mikey, running for
reelection is her brother-in-law, Rep. Iggy Arroyo (fifth district, Negros Occidental); her younger
son, Dato (first district, Camarines Sur), is gunning for a new, gerrymandered district in Bicol.

To be sure, about the only thing marginal about the Arroyos is their good standing in the eyes of
the people. Nothing could be farther from what party-list representation is supposed to be than
members of the President’s clan sitting as representatives of marginalized party-list groups.

Consider the President’s eldest son, Mikey, displaced from his district because of his own
mother’s continuing ambitions. Now it seems the eldest of the President’s brood is looking
forward to remaining in the House, after all—as a party-list representative representing security
guards. Sociologist Randy David in a recent talk estimated the ubiquitous private security guards
to number half a million—more than enough votes to elect more than one party-list
representative. Considering that security guard companies are (more often than not) run by retired
military officers, and that the top brass has prospered under the present administration, it’s
obvious how the transactional style of the present leadership can pay great dividends in votes in
May. Among other things, it means that the eldest Arroyo son, whose knowledge of security
guards most likely extends only to ordering them around, can now claim to represent them.

And where the First Family doesn’t fear to tread, its acolytes aren’t far behind. Otherwise
unelectable members of the Cabinet have “accepted” nominations to be party-list representatives
in the hope they can secure office undercover. It’s enough to make people nostalgic for the time
when sectoral representatives were just appointed: generally, they were more distinguished, more
serious. But now we have a system where the marginalized have been further marginalized by the
political pros.

***

Fair elections and the ethics of modernity

By Randy David
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 23:53:00 02/12/2010

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THE LAW has been there since 2001, but its provisions have been unevenly enforced. This is
true of many of our laws—many provisions remain dormant until the situations for which they
were specifically crafted actually surface as problems, or the conditions for their enforcement
become available. Such is Republic Act No. 9006, more commonly known as “The Fair Election
Act.”

Sec. 6, paragraph 6 of this law states: Any mass media columnist, commentator, announcer,
reporter, on-air correspondent or personality who is a candidate for any elective public office or is
a campaign volunteer for or employed or retained in any capacity by any candidate or political
party shall be deemed resigned, if so required by their employer, or shall take a leave of absence
from his/her work as such during the campaign period: Provided, That any media practitioner
who is an official of a political party or a member of the campaign staff of a candidate or political
party shall not use his/her time or space to favor any candidate or political party.

One look at this provision quickly shows that it is trying to cover in one paragraph a broad range
of individuals and activities that are qualitatively different from one another. It is easy enough to
determine who is a candidate, although the period when someone legally becomes a candidate
was a crucial point in a recent Supreme Court decision on premature campaigning. But how does
one define a “campaign volunteer”? Similarly, while it is easy enough to identify a “mass media
columnist, commentator, announcer, reporter…,” we cannot say the same for a “mass media
personality.”

If the list specifically refers only to people who work in the mass media, does it include “talents,”
or does it apply only to regular employees? GMA-7 says they will make sure it will apply to both
talents and employees; ABS-CBN says they will enforce it only among their regular employees.

Despite the ambiguities in the law, I nevertheless think that the purpose of the provision quoted
above is valid and worthy of appreciation. But perhaps, instead of focusing on the enumeration of
people to be covered, it might be more useful for the Commission on Elections and the public in
general to pay more careful attention to the list of prohibited acts and what they have in common.
This issue is of immense interest not only to lawyers but to students of social change as well, who
see in these developments a welcome shift to what we may call the ethics of modernity.

The ethics of modernity revolves around the notion of differentiation of functions, which is
modern society’s response to problems brought about by the growing complexity of social life.
Failure to differentiate produces conflict-of-interest situations that not only create insoluble
dilemmas for individuals but, more importantly, adversely affect the functioning of other
institutions. We have seen what kinds of problems are created when politicians bring their
business concerns into the act of legislation.

As persons, all of us participate in a variety of institutional settings—the family, the school, the
Church, the government, the market, the mass media, etc. We are, at one time or other, parents or
children, teachers or students, worshippers or clerics, citizens or public officials, and columnists
or show-biz actors. These are multiple roles we play, juggle, and try to balance in our daily life,
hoping that their demands do not clash with one another. But we are not alone in this effort;
institutions are also slowly moving in the same direction. The increasing differentiation of
institutions, marked by the sharpening of boundaries and protected by distinct operational codes,
has made it easier for individuals to navigate their way in the complex modern society of our
time.

9
This separation of roles is often facilitated by the separation of locations. Thus, we leave our
homes when we go to school or go to work, and government employees are asked not to park
official vehicles in their homes. In this way, we are not tempted to mix roles and resources. But
this physical separation of spheres is not always available to us. Sometimes we find ourselves in
situations where more than one role is activated because the setting itself is ambivalent. Laws and
ethical codes are there to help us sort out our relationships and obligations.

More than just as an attempt to level the political playing field, I view the contested provisions of
the Fair Election Act as an attempt to modernize our politics. However, I think that the Comelec
errs in demanding immediate full compliance with a law that is being suddenly enforced after
nine years of dormancy. What I believe it can demand at this point is for mass media celebrities
and opinion makers who are candidates or active endorsers of candidates to resign or take a leave
from their professions for the duration of the campaign. Or, at the very least, the Comelec can
admonish endorsers who have their own programs or columns not to use their media space for
outright campaigning.

Where modern institutions have not fully taken root, the choice of doing the correct thing rests
entirely with the individual. Here, compliance is less a matter of law than of ethics. I mean ethics
in David Couzens Hoy’s sense—“obligations that present themselves as necessarily to be fulfilled
but are neither forced on one or are enforceable.” But, why be ethical then? Credibility, if for
nothing else: because we want others to be able to rely on the truthfulness of what we say or do.

***

Two speeches that made Barack Obama

By Randy David
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 02:37:00 10/18/2008

MANILA, Philippines—No one who has watched Barack Obama’s meteoric rise in American
politics in the last four years can fail to be intrigued by what he represents. More than his
charismatic presence and eloquence, I think it is Obama’s deep understanding of the major
themes of American culture that has given him an intimate connection to the American people.
He has grasped these themes well, weaving them methodically into nearly every speech he has
made.

Before July 27, 2004, few outside the state of Illinois knew who Barack Obama was. He had been
a state senator in Illinois for more than seven years when he decided to run for the US Senate.
The Democratic Party chose him to deliver the keynote at the convention that would proclaim
John Kerry as the party’s presidential bet against George W. Bush.

That day, all of America took notice — not of Kerry, but of the unknown young man from
Illinois. Obama’s speech eclipsed everyone else’s. He spoke about John Kerry and why he should
be the next president of the United States. But above all he spoke about himself and how his
improbable presence in US politics affirmed the authenticity of the American dream — the dream
that in this land of promise, everyone can boldly hope to become what he sets out to be.

10
“I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my heritage, aware that my parents’ dreams live
on in my two precious daughters. I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger
American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that, in no other
country on earth, is my story even possible. Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our
nation — not because of the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of
our economy.

“Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two
hundred years ago: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. That
they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. That among these are life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’

“That is the true genius of America—a faith in simple dreams, an insistence on small miracles.”

I think the true genius of America lies in its ability to create a social order based on the plurality
of races and cultures. Yet race remains an explosive issue. Instead of eliding it as others often do,
Obama tackles the issue head-on, almost unmindful of the minefield that surrounds it. He does
not ignore the residues of racial prejudice that still divide the American nation, but he chooses to
harp on the unity that was meant by the nation’s founders to emerge from the diversity of its
people.

“‘E pluribus unum.’ Out of many, one…. There is not a Black America and a White America and
Latino America and Asian America — there’s the United States of America.... We are one
people, all of us pledging allegiance to the Stars and Stripes, all of us defending the United States
of America…. I’m not talking about blind optimism here…. I’m talking about something more
substantial. It’s the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs. The hope of
immigrants setting out for distant shores…. The hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who
believes that America has a place for him, too. Hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of
uncertainty. The audacity of hope! In the end, that is God’s greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this
nation. A belief in things not seen. A belief that there are better days ahead.”

This brings us to the other speech that launched Obama’s political star. Apart from its multiracial
character, what Obama knows about America is its religiosity — an astonishing irony in a society
that projects itself as a beacon of secular democracy. On June 28, 2006, two years after he won a
seat in the US Senate, he was invited to keynote a gathering of religious leaders, a perfect
occasion to claim space on an issue that had been the turf of Republicans — religion in the public
square. Before joining politics, Obama had been a professor of constitutional law. He was
expected to articulate a robust secularism against the rising tide of religious fundamentalism.
Instead, he expressed a nuanced view of the vital role of religion in society.

“[S]ecularists are wrong when they ask believers to leave their religion at the door before entering
into the public square. Frederick Douglas, Abraham Lincoln, William Jennings Bryan, Dorothy
Day, Martin Luther King — indeed, the majority of great reformers in American history — were
not only motivated by faith, but repeatedly used religious language to argue for their cause….
Their summoning of a higher truth helped inspire what had seemed impossible, and move the
nation to embrace a common destiny.”

Obama doesn’t leave the issue there however. “Democracy demands that the religiously
motivated translate their concerns into universal, rather than religion-specific, values. It requires
that their proposals be subject to argument, and amenable to reason. I may be opposed to abortion

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for religious reasons, but if I seek to pass a law banning the practice, I cannot simply point to the
teachings of my church or evoke God’s will. I have to explain why abortion violates some
principle that is accessible to people of all faiths, including those with no faith at all.”

Beside John McCain, who personifies an exhausted empire, the younger Barack Obama
symbolizes an American nation that is conscious of its most basic strengths — faith in a time of
despair, audacity in a time of uncertainty. America is lucky to have him as its next president.

***

Retrieved from: www.opinion.inquirer.net

Retrieved and compiled by: Emmanuel S. Caliwan, BS Sociology

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