Growing up with President Obama

In 2008, I introduced Barack Obama during the Democratic National Convention. (I actually introduced my friend Adam, who was portraying the then-Senator in our high school’s mock presidential convention.) At that point, I was a fan of pre-affair North Carolina Senator John Edwards for no good reason other than I recognized his name from the 2004 campaign. When I stepped atop that podium, though, in front of my entire school, I could feel a tangible energy in the gymnasium not present during the other speeches: suddenly, there was anticipation, and excitement. (Mind you, this was a mock political convention in high school, so straight up attention was already difficult to obtain.) I made note of this, and began my speech.

I was a different person back then: very much still a boy without mature political ideologies, but also an ignoramus swayed by the culture of the place wherein I lived. Homogeneously white, the suburbs of Spokane, WA, did not do well in stoking progressivevalues — and they weren’t helped by my parents, who strongly advised me to just “fit in” with the rest of my peers. Apart from taking a very strong interest in global poverty alleviation and embrace of environmentalism, my views were decidedly politically conservative: pro-life, anti-legalization, pro-gun, etc. I grew up very much a creature who lacked internal agency, yet fought tooth-and-nail for the positions I assumed. Not did I not understand the significance of electing the first-ever African-American president, but I felt like the enthusiasm for his ethnicity masked his relative inexperience to his opponents Senators Clinton and McCain.

It was ironic, then, that I was accepted by the University of Chicago, the bastion of liberalism and free will located only blocks away from President Obama’s house on 51st Street. By the time I arrived on campus, the Obama administration had pushed forward some legislation about things I knew of but didn’t really understand: recovering from this big financial crisis that had apparently ruined people’s lives, regulations to fight this obscure thing called global warming, an overhaul of a health care system that I didn’t realize had problems. I mindlessly made note that this was happening, but was too preoccupied by my newfound collegiate freedom in Chicago and my struggles in the classroom to take greater care. Lackadaisically taking what I could from Adam Smith, John Locke, and other thinkers who deserved more attention than I gave them, I blundered my way through this opportunity I was given, still making the same self-absorbed mistakes I did in years prior in not looking at the world around me.

It wasn’t until my third year at the university that I began to espouse strong political positions and interest about domestic issues. Such maturity came as a result of a confluence of different developments, both near and far: the Arab Spring and Occupy Wall Street had sprung up, both of which I opposed for “methodological reasons”, and I had engaged in a number of emotionally formative conversations with my then-girlfriend — a brilliant anthropology student whose liberal views contrasted strongly with my quasi-conservative attitudes. Through heated conversations with strangers around the world on Facebook and with those I loved in my living room, I began to figure out for the first time exactly what I cared about, and what I stood for. I looked up from my books and my laptop screen, and I saw the reality of the world before me — a world stricken with inequality, constraints, and unhappiness, but also blessed with diversity, natural beauty, and opportunities for discovery. I was inspired to act and work hard, because I had been too privileged to even understand that these were problems in the first place.

I finally began to recognize the progress that President Obama was trying to make, and the hope that I had heard so much talk about four years prior.

During this transition into a informed and autonomous human being (novel, I know), President Obama’s leadership on certain issues very much influenced the way I approached them. On health care, he has made the effort to ensure that those with pre-existing conditions are able to have the same opportunities as others without fear of losing their coverage. On foreign relations, he employed diplomacy to reduce the nuclear threat of Iran and pacify relations with an insurgent China. On the environment, he has recognized the need for collaborative international climate action and the protection of natural public goods from harmful private activity — a tempered departure from environmentalism driven by immediacy and outrage. Time and time again, he has made an effort to not only acknowledge the most critical issues of the present day, but address them in a way that underscores his own understanding of the issues and preserves them for future generations through carefully wrought policies and legal infrastructure. Regardless of his end results (and in some ways, I believe he was overly ambitious and unsuccessful), it was his methodology and ethos of leadership that inspired me to become more informed about specific public policies, rather than relying only on sound bites, and vocalizing my viewpoints in a way that was inclusive and tolerant, rather than divisive and arrogant.

And in the same way, he has inspired me to voice opposition towards some of his actions. His positions (or in some cases, his reluctance to comment) on drone warfare and federal surveillance were topics that I kept me up late at night, trying to understand what the tolerable balance between pragmatism and civil liberty is. His hesitation towards damaging bilateral relations during international conflict (such as the Diaoyutai incident, the annexation of Crimea, and throughout the Syrian civil war) and relative inaction towards plights of poor communities in Sub-Saharan Africa frustrated me. His lack of prioritization of human rights issues around the world — speaking mostly in vague terms and relying on an ineffective United Nations — made me question his commitment to the disenfranchised and marginalized. Yet his attitude towards such criticism, from voices much more informed and intelligent than my own, gave me a sense of calm: this guy was doing the best he could, with the hand he was given. He listened to his advisors, but made his own choice as an elected official. He was doing was he was sent there to do, and folks were waiting for him to fail.

In the past few years, I have embraced his example to become more engaged, more self-aware, and, perhaps most importantly, more empathetic. Despite moving to an even more progressive place after graduation (San Francisco — at this rate, Sweden is next), I have not totally embraced liberal values, and still hold some of the conservative values that became my ideological foundation. While some consider this a liability, I have appreciated having my background to help understand exactly why Americans living in certain parts of the country voted for President Trump this past election. It has helped me forgive ignorance, eschew elitism, and allow for external opinions — even when they are uncomfortably bigoted or are, in my own opinion, fundamentally wrong. Having President Obama as a role model, I have come to understand the value of community, the limitations of privilege, and the power of solidarity, and how these catalyze progress and improve society. As someone who repects character, incrementalism, tolerance, and opposition, I cannot have been more lucky or proud of having a president who celebrated the same values.

Growing up during the Obama administration has spoiled me with an opportunity to mature my political philosophy with a leader who shares my views. The new administration will give me an opportunity to hone that philosophy with a leader whose entire platform I fundamentally oppose.

Thank you, President Obama, for your vision, for providing me direction, and for giving me hope. Thank you being a role model whom I seek to emulate as a future lawyer, citizen, and human. And thank you, sir, for your patriotism and service to your country. It was a privilege to grow up during your administration, and I am grateful for the opportunity to continue your efforts through my own.