In my last piece, I argued that a very special almost intimate resonance existed between Obama and large numbers of intellectuals and opinion-makers, and that this resonance gave a distinctive stamp to his Presidency. This resonance has deep roots in such things as the special character of the American Presidency, the decline of the party system, and the rise and character of the media. Here, however, I simply want to identify Obama’s particular and unique appeal, without yet judging or even analyzing, except briefly at the end.

The first major characteristic that gives Obama his special, in many ways unconscious, appeal is the fact that he is an African-American. Since the days of slavery, when the spirituals identified the slaves as the chosen people, Americans have believed that a young, black Moses would save them from what WEB DuBois called this “empty desert of dust and dollars.” The hope for a black salvationalist figure pervades evangelical Protestantism, Communism (and not only in the United States) and artistic modernism, e.g. in popular music and humor. Like Martin Luther King, Obama comes out of a Salvationist and messianic tradition, but what is interesting is what he does with that tradition: He seeks to repudiate it (The Reverend Wright incident showed how difficult this is). Nonetheless, Wright notwithstanding, Obama does not present himself as a representative of black America, as King or Jesse Jackson did, but as someone who can bring red and blue (NB: not black and white) together, Furthermore, certain aspects of his biography – birth in Hawaii, African father, Indonesian upbringing – soften and muffle his African-American image in ways that make it more global in an age during which America is struggling with global isolation and rejection of its supposed leadership.

The special appeal of Obama’s racial/post-racial stance should be understood in the context of the nation’s current polarization. The roots of this polarization lay in the 1960s and 70s when blacks, and in ways that were both similar and different, women, sought to gain the same rights that had been granted to white men, industrial workers, immigrants and union members by the New Deal. White men did not respond generously to the demands of blacks and women but, drawing from the same rhetoric of rights and justice and victimhood that blacks and women drew from, fought busing, moved to the suburbs, organized tax-revolts, and, in general, supported the rise of the right. Obama’s appeal comes not only from the way he comes out of this history, but above all from the way he claims to transcend it, to hold no bitterness about past injustice, to reject the victim identity, the lingua franca identity of late twentieth century America.

Obama’s non-victimhood appeal became clear in his conflict with Hillary Clinton for the Presidential nomination. In order to gain a foothold, Obama had to position himself to Hillary’s left, but as soon as Hillary was threatened she reverted to the classic identity slogans that had brought about polarization in the first place, namely that she would be “the first woman President.” Obama, by contrast, tried to brush aside the conflicts raised for many in advancing a black person to the most sacred, public space in America, presenting himself as a vague and indefinite principle of post-conflictual reconciliation.

The break with the victim stance was only the beginning of Obama’s persona, however. The magical appeal of a black man who would help us transcend race – in other words, transcend the divisions between rich and poor, corporate and local, urban and suburban, private and social – that came to the fore in the sixties — was linked to a second personality characteristic, namely reflectiveness. From the beginning, Obama presented himself as not merely intelligent, but as thoughtful, reflective, carefully weighing all options, not afraid to be surrounded by smart people and to hear their views, a man of judgment, if not experience. This image, which may well be part of Obama’s actual character, drew a brilliant contrast with not only with Bush but also with the popular image – one might also say racial stereotype– of the black male, historically identified with the body, not just under slavery, but in such forms as music, sports, and acting.

Obama’s carefully constructed public image is important to understanding his appeal. One important basis of the Obama coalition is clear – African-Americans – and it is certainly not hard to understand the reasons for this. The rest of the popular appeal, however comes from what used to be called intellectuals, students, educated labor or people who use their minds to help build the new service, financial, sales and other industries. Such people are drawn to the very high value that Obama seems to place on thinking problems through, not relying on impulse or precedent or intimidation, because they value their own minds, and see Obama as someone like themselves. In other words, they identify with him; they think he is “one of us.” The results of this identification, however, are profound.

Restricting ourselves to the huge left/liberal part of the electorate, there is no really full-scale debate going on over Obama’s policies. Rather, the debate is over Obama himself. One sector of the electorate believes in him. They continue to be struck by his intelligence, soft-spokenness, his book on identity, his race speech and the like. They agree that his response to the economic crisis, his abandonment of the public option, and his Afghanistan escalation, among other things, were misguided, but they chalk these policies up to inexperience, or to the “limits” imposed by a conservative country. They believe that, like Prince Hal, he will eventually cast off his evil advisors (e.g., Geithner), and turn left. Another, much smaller sector of the electorate believes that Obama is simply an ambitious politician, whose first thought is always to satisfy the established powers, be they banks, insurance companies or generals. They believe that what you see is what you get.

Personally, I have gone back and forth between these two positions, and the truth is probably more complex than either alone. However, in evaluating them there is one factor that favors the skeptics. Those who continue to have faith in Obama, to see in him the transformational figure, which the country so desperately needs, are historical determinists. They tell us that expectations were too high, that the objective reality of American conservatism made real change impossible. Even as they continue to idealize a man whose policies they reject, they pooh-pooh illusion. The skeptics, by contrast, can still remember 2008 when the entire Republican record had been decimated, when the news magazines were predicting a “new New Deal.” The skeptics are the ones who see history as open; they do not retrospectively close off possibilities, which only currently are bleak and even foreclosed. That is a strong argument in favor of the skeptical position.