The Day After

Last night I woke up at around midnight (my schedule is still screwy) and began to follow the election results as well as I could. The AP has a map that helpfully refreshed itself, and was the best thing of its kind that I came across in my press roamings. Then I stayed with the live webstream of CBS's coverage, with Katie Couric and Jeff Greenfield and Bob Schieffer (whom I officially like considerably now). The anchors were in an enjoyably good mood. Whenever there was not much happening I read a book.

At first the AP map was disturbing, as there were unexpectedly high results for McCain in several states, but these clearly represented very right-leaning districts. I was thoroughly worried until, in the course of the early morning, I heard that Obama had won Ohio. Then the results trickled in, and in, and then Virginia was called in his favour. I went back to my CBS video (this was at ca. 5 a.m.), hoping that they would mention it, and then Katie Couric unexpectedly said that Barack Obama had won the election, and that the local stations would return to their regular programming. Still skeptical, I went for confirmation to other sources, and CNN and ABC and the AP map had called the election, too. Shortly thereafter John McCain gave his speech in Phoenix, which speech was indeed very conciliatory, I thought, and procured him a graceful exit. I think he was relieved not to be elected president.

Going to the CBS coverage again, an African-American guest showed a photo that he keeps on his desk, of black garbage workers striking for their dignity, and then mentioned that he wanted to telephone his mother, his standard American slipping more and more into a Southern dialect in the emotion of the moment. It was very moving, and I began to cry, a trifle hysterically, trying to be as quiet as possible because everyone else was sleeping. T. woke up, and asked what was up and whether I was happy or sad, and then I calmed down. Then I saw the footage of the Rev. Jesse Jackson standing in a crowd with tears streaming down his face.

Altogether what I love about this election night (and post-election day) is the cheerfulness of the news anchors (the BBC World News anchor was thoroughly chipper this afternoon, and I thought that the economist and Nobel laureate who spoke at one point about the future of the American economy was choking up a little with joy), the gracious comments by McCain voters that I've seen on the internet, and the elation that comes with the feeling that most people are decent. What is still more incredible is that George W. Bush actually seemed at ease and even cheerful when he congratulated Obama. Also, in the eight years that I have "known" Condoleezza Rice, she has never seemed sympathetic until the moment today where, soft-eyed and trembling on the verge of alternate tears and smiles, she made her own personal statement on the election results at a State Department press conference.

What I missed was the jubilation here in Berlin. I personally felt that honking cars, cheers, balloons, and who knows what else would have been in order. Instead it was an extraordinarily quiet day, grey and twilightish. Even when I went for a walk to Potsdamer Platz and the Brandenburg Gate, the only symptoms of the election were the unenthusiastic conversations of two or three passersby, and a small Obama campaign sign, in the window of an Ebony hair salon, that said "Change we can believe in." Also, I felt the most benignant I am ever likely to feel again at the sight of the massive and soulless architectural bore that is our American Embassy.

On the whole I have been much more thoughtful and even sad today, than jubilant. A portion of it is that California has voted to ban gay marriage, and Arizona and Florida have voted to define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, which is hard for me to understand. (At least it's a good day for marijuana, medical in Michigan, and in general in Massachusetts.) A portion of it may also be a "spiritual hangover" from the past eight years of Bush and the past two years of unbearably protracted campaigning. But, above all, there are so many problems that Obama will have to confront. Dmitri Medvedev's speech (which I thought rather abhorrent) was not a good start. I have been, and perhaps most of us have been, conditioned into being very uncertain that events that promise to be good will fulfill that promise. So I fervently hope that those who transcended their traditional party affiliation and prejudices to vote for Obama will not be disappointed, and, even more fervently, I hope that his capable mind and his upright character will translate into a presidency that will truly benefit the people of America, Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere.

But I believe that we must do what we can (in my case, as a foreigner, not much) and have faith. As long as we try to do the right thing, hour by hour and day by day, in small matters as well as in great ones, it will turn out all right.

And, to end on that hopeful note, here are passages from a speech given in Washington, D.C., forty-five years ago, by a southern preacher:

[. . .] even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

[. . .]

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

[. . .]

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!