Okay to Hope

On November 3, the day before the election, I was on my way to the Stanford bookstore when I came across a political rally. A professor of political science was stumping for Obama, trying to instill in the minds of the under-20s in the audience the historical import of this election, stressing the importance of voting, and unabashedly adopting Obama's campaign slogan, "Yes We Can." At first it all struck me as a little bit, well, off-key.

Here, on this improvised stage, was a middle-aged white guy with a beard, a tweed, professorial jacket, slightly short and slightly plump, dressed impeccably as a scholar, stumping for Obama. Surely, I thought, this guy belongs in his book-filled office, hunched over student papers, thinking quiet, professorial thoughts. But no, here he was, pacing like a maniac with a microphone in hand, appealing passionately to those who would listen, and enticing the audience to chant with him, "Yes We Can." Not yet mesmerized, more in a state of detached amusement, I looked around me, couldn't help but smile at the sight of so many people chanting such a simple, naively optimistic campaign phrase. The size of the crowd grew.

Next up after the professor: a young conservative student dressed in madras pants and a pink button-down. The emotion in his voice so obviously young and raw: "I would rather disagree with a President Obama than agree with a President McCain!" Fist-pumping. Waving of campaign posters. More chanting. So the procession of speakers went. Each with more license to be impassioned, to be hopeful, and each with more fervent support from the growing crowd. And I found the words forming on my own lips, unexpectedly: "Yes We Can."

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After it was all over, after enough votes had been counted, after history had been decided, I waited to watch Obama's victory speech. What impressed me most was the equanimity he has now become famous for, the absence of self-congratulation or even of celebration, the sobriety with which he reached out his hand to the audience in a gesture of gratitude. "It is okay," Obama's body language and facial expressions seemed to emanate, "It is okay to hope."

I remember following the 2000 and 2004 elections. I remember the incredulity with which the people around me greeted news of President Bush's respective victories. The post-game analysis was that gun-toting, homophobic middle America had stolen the election again. People talked about how liberals had forfeited all language of morality and could not stand their ground against evangelicals on issues like abortion, homosexuality and second amendment rights. "Moral issues" catapulted Bush to the White House in 2000 and 2004, leaving liberals feeling somewhat helpless.

Now, harboring hope, sanctioned by Obama's meteoric rise, I cannot help but feel that something has changed. That Obama's victory ushers in a new chapter, that liberals can now speak confidently of their own moral issues: equality of opportunity, the right to health care, personal and civic responsibility, sacrifice. Obama's victory speech, and the demeanor with which he delivered it, captured perfectly the tenor of this changed debate and articulated the sober optimism with which we can now all embrace tomorrow: "The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep," but you know what? and you can even go ahead and say it out loud, "Yes We Can."