Barack Obama may finally be defining himself as president. The
question is: What took him so long to seize the narrative and find his
character as “leader.”
Obama now has strong public support in the fiscal crisis faceoff.
Even as the House Republicans scramble to find a way into the argument,
the president has a tight grip on the storyline.
This is a big change from the fierce healthcare reform fight and the
2011 debt limit crisis. The chattering class then continually asserted
that Obama had “lost control of the narrative.”
But now the president has a strong narrative arc: He is the
protagonist who will stand up for what he believes in, battling the
odds.
A dramatic character holds our attention based on what he wants—the
“spine of a character” in a play is defined by a clear through-line of
intention. For much of Obama’s first term, the American public — his
audience — felt that he had lost his way.
The problem was that Obama, as president, had cast himself as
consensus seeker or conciliator. This role took him out of the action of
his own narrative.
Other characters were able to rush in to fill the narrative void. The
contentious cast of Congress became the new focus of national
attention. Obama, by deliberately sitting out the public debate on
healthcare and letting Congress put together his signature legislation,
lost sight of his goal.
This was surprising for many voters, who had been captured by the
compelling drama of Obama’s 2008 campaign. As “candidate,” Obama
understood his part was all about aspiration. His goal was clear — and
there are built-in stations of conflict.
Obama’s personal story was so powerful, in fact, that he was able to
vanquish a master of the narrative, Hilary Clinton. He skillfully
defined himself as the brave, young combatant challenging a ruthless
political machine.
Brash, bold and thrilling — Obama was the protagonist for a new
American electorate. He reflected the character of a nation we wanted to
be — diverse, young, hip and hopeful. Audacious.
But once the campaign’s dramatic arc was fulfilled, and Obama assumed
the presidency, he did not have a new narrative to replace it.
Obama deliberately refused to put conflict on the table during the
health care debate. He did not want to be defined as a fighter. The
Republicans knew this—and maintained a one-sided battle, casting
themselves as opponents willing to fight for their goals.
Obama lost more ground during the debt ceiling crisis. Rather than
confront the opposition and the possibility of failure, conflict-weary
Obama settled for a tired solution: He would agree to discuss it later.
In both these scenarios, it didn’t seem as if the dramatic stakes
were high enough for Obama to take a risk. By playing the
conciliator-in-chief, Obama created a role for himself that was
fundamentally undramatic. He was no longer the star of his own
narrative.
As his re-election neared, Obama continued to let the GOP define his
leadership—even his back story. Birthers created an alternative-universe
origin story for Obama, even accusing him of being part of a Manchurian Candidate-like socialist conspiracy. Obama had created the void that made room for this.
Meanwhile, a slew of Republican candidates were defining themselves.
The GOP ultimately chose a nominee whose personal narrative was nimble
enough to fit any prototype. Mitt Romney’s Etch-a-Sketch leadership
qualities could fit any focus group.
Against this, Obama’s re-election campaign started without any new
narrative. He could no longer use his 2008 aspirational language of
“hope.” At best—he could attack Romney’s narrative.
A powerful surrogate finally gave Obama’s campaign its first real
boost. Bill Clinton’s “comeback kid” narrative — crafted so carefully by
his Hollywood pals — had served him through two campaigns, and also
through the crises of his presidency. The narrative of “resiliency” is
sometimes comic — but certainly always joyous, and fun to watch.
In Clinton’s final comeback, the former president ignited the
Democratic National Convention in North Carolina. He presented a
compelling new narrative line for Obama, focusing on his unfinished
goals.
The turning point was in the first debate. The disengaged president
conveyed the impression that he would rather be dining with his wife on
their anniversary than addressing the electorate. The fatal question was
raised: “Does he really want to be here?”
The failure of that first debate seemed to jar Obama into re-assuming
a narrative he was comfortable with — as “candidate.” The dramatic
sense of conflict was back, the race was on and the audience (the
American public) energized.
He was again aspiring to something. Even those monitoring the
statistics on Nate Silver’s 538.com blog felt the nerve-shaking tension
of Obama as underdog. This new dramatic tension was so palpable that
many Republicans seemed genuinely shocked when they didn’t win.
Obama won the narrative because he fought for the presidency. It now
looks as if he is willing to extend that clarity of intention into his
second term.
With the fiscal cliff looming, Obama’s new narrative
features taking on the Republicans and fighting over tax increases for
the top 2 percent. The president has embraced the drama of the ticking
clock, which may make a showdown over the financial crisis as inevitable
as the gunfight in High Noon.
Obama has found a way to extend his narrative into a template for
leadership. He is again an audacious protagonist – and the focus of all
our attention.
