Ari Kelman: What the sixteenth President of the United States of America means to Barack Obama and others
[Ari Kelman is Associate Professor of History at the University of California, Davis. He is the author of A River and Its City: The nature of landscape in New Orleans, 2003. ]
On February 10, 2007, Barack Obama, then a relatively unknown US senator, stood on the steps of the Illinois statehouse. A crowd numbering in the thousands braved the winter weather to hear him speak. Obama first warmed his audience with inspirational snippets drawn from his autobiography. Then, setting up the key passage of his address, he invoked one of the critical chapters in the nation’s political history: “In the shadow of the Old State Capitol, where Lincoln once called on a house divided to stand together, where common hopes and common dreams still live, I stand before you today to announce my candidacy for President of the United States of America”. As the crowd cheered and chanted his name, Obama repeatedly circled back to Lincoln’s memory: the sixteenth President’s rise from humble origins, his perseverance, and his unrelenting focus on reuniting a nation ripped apart by the scourges of slavery, sectionalism, and Southern secession. Obama concluded with one more homage to Lincoln – an allusion to his greatest speech, the Gettysburg Address – asking his supporters to help him “usher in a new birth of freedom on this Earth”.
Less than a year later, Ron Paul, a congressman from Texas, roasted beneath arc lights on the television programme Meet the Press. Opposing the war in Iraq while equating federal power with tyranny, Paul at the time commanded an army of supporters, millions of shock troops eager for radical change: the so-called Ron Paul Revolution. The congressman hoped to march with these libertarian followers to the Republican presidential nomination. Midway into the interview, the journalist Tim Russert said: “I was intrigued by your comments about Abe Lincoln”. Paul, it seemed, had remarked a year earlier that “Abe Lincoln should never have gone to war”. Here was Russert’s signature move, a personal quotation designed to shatter a guest's composure and political ambitions. As Russert waited for Paul to recant what passes for heresy in the church of American politics, the congressman stood by his words. Insisting that Lincoln had sought “to get rid of the original intent of the Republic, displaying the iron fist of Washington”, Paul called the Civil War “senseless”.
From uncommonly frank discussions of race and citizenship, to confrontations over the Confederate flag’s semiotics and the proper scope of federal authority, to Senator Obama’s ongoing efforts to wrap himself in Lincoln’s mantle, the 2008 election threatened to become a referendum on the sixteenth President’s legacy. With the bicentennial of his birth looming, the sesquicentennial of the war he waged following soon after, and a relatively inexperienced legislator from Illinois in the race, an African-American man with a background in law and a once-in-a-generation gift for oratory, perhaps this should have come as no surprise. Still, a spate of recent books, all timed to celebrate Lincoln’s 200th birthday, reminds us that beyond the coincidence of historical anniversaries and a historic candidate in 2008, ’twas ever thus in the United States. Americans have long fought over Lincoln’s meaning; they did so even while he was still alive. And Lincoln’s ghost has loomed over American culture and politics from the time of his death.
That’s the moment that the Kunhardts – Philip III, Peter, and Peter Jr – use to open their new book, Looking for Lincoln, a lovingly illustrated inquiry into the origins of enduring myths and memories of Abraham Lincoln. On the night of April 14, 1865, Good Friday, Lincoln sat in a private box at Ford’s Theater, Washington, watching the third act of Our American Cousin. John Wilkes Booth, an actor driven to violence by the President’s recent support for African American voting rights, sneaked into Lincoln’s box and fired a single bullet into the back of his skull. After leaping on to the stage and fracturing his leg, Booth shouted out Virginia’s state motto, “Sic semper tyrannis!”. He then escaped into the night. Three doctors on the scene rushed to the President’s aid, and they decided to bring him across the street to a boarding house, where a huge group of people kept vigil through the night. Lincoln died the following morning. ...
Even after winning the presidency, Barack Obama continues to channel Abraham Lincoln. Obama arrived in Washington via the same train route that Lincoln did in 1861. He swore the oath of office on Lincoln’s bible. He chose the same lunch that Lincoln ate on his inauguration day. And with the nation mired in a dizzying array of crises, Obama says that he looks to Lincoln for inspiration. Ron Paul, meanwhile, did not secure the Republican nomination, despite the passion of his supporters. Nevertheless, he, too, continues to use Lincoln for political purposes. On April 15, Paul and hundreds of thousands of limited-government activists took to the streets to rail about the long reach of federal authority. In addition to claiming that income tax is unconstitutional, leaders of these so-called Tea Parties raised the spectre of secession. Rick Perry, the Republican governor of Texas, warned that if pushed, the Lone Star state might decide to leave the Union. And when political commentators heaped scorn on Perry, Paul defended him, noting that, “it is very American to talk about secession”. Perhaps, but Lincoln deserves a more generous 200th birthday present.
Read entire article at Times Literary Supplement
On February 10, 2007, Barack Obama, then a relatively unknown US senator, stood on the steps of the Illinois statehouse. A crowd numbering in the thousands braved the winter weather to hear him speak. Obama first warmed his audience with inspirational snippets drawn from his autobiography. Then, setting up the key passage of his address, he invoked one of the critical chapters in the nation’s political history: “In the shadow of the Old State Capitol, where Lincoln once called on a house divided to stand together, where common hopes and common dreams still live, I stand before you today to announce my candidacy for President of the United States of America”. As the crowd cheered and chanted his name, Obama repeatedly circled back to Lincoln’s memory: the sixteenth President’s rise from humble origins, his perseverance, and his unrelenting focus on reuniting a nation ripped apart by the scourges of slavery, sectionalism, and Southern secession. Obama concluded with one more homage to Lincoln – an allusion to his greatest speech, the Gettysburg Address – asking his supporters to help him “usher in a new birth of freedom on this Earth”.
Less than a year later, Ron Paul, a congressman from Texas, roasted beneath arc lights on the television programme Meet the Press. Opposing the war in Iraq while equating federal power with tyranny, Paul at the time commanded an army of supporters, millions of shock troops eager for radical change: the so-called Ron Paul Revolution. The congressman hoped to march with these libertarian followers to the Republican presidential nomination. Midway into the interview, the journalist Tim Russert said: “I was intrigued by your comments about Abe Lincoln”. Paul, it seemed, had remarked a year earlier that “Abe Lincoln should never have gone to war”. Here was Russert’s signature move, a personal quotation designed to shatter a guest's composure and political ambitions. As Russert waited for Paul to recant what passes for heresy in the church of American politics, the congressman stood by his words. Insisting that Lincoln had sought “to get rid of the original intent of the Republic, displaying the iron fist of Washington”, Paul called the Civil War “senseless”.
From uncommonly frank discussions of race and citizenship, to confrontations over the Confederate flag’s semiotics and the proper scope of federal authority, to Senator Obama’s ongoing efforts to wrap himself in Lincoln’s mantle, the 2008 election threatened to become a referendum on the sixteenth President’s legacy. With the bicentennial of his birth looming, the sesquicentennial of the war he waged following soon after, and a relatively inexperienced legislator from Illinois in the race, an African-American man with a background in law and a once-in-a-generation gift for oratory, perhaps this should have come as no surprise. Still, a spate of recent books, all timed to celebrate Lincoln’s 200th birthday, reminds us that beyond the coincidence of historical anniversaries and a historic candidate in 2008, ’twas ever thus in the United States. Americans have long fought over Lincoln’s meaning; they did so even while he was still alive. And Lincoln’s ghost has loomed over American culture and politics from the time of his death.
That’s the moment that the Kunhardts – Philip III, Peter, and Peter Jr – use to open their new book, Looking for Lincoln, a lovingly illustrated inquiry into the origins of enduring myths and memories of Abraham Lincoln. On the night of April 14, 1865, Good Friday, Lincoln sat in a private box at Ford’s Theater, Washington, watching the third act of Our American Cousin. John Wilkes Booth, an actor driven to violence by the President’s recent support for African American voting rights, sneaked into Lincoln’s box and fired a single bullet into the back of his skull. After leaping on to the stage and fracturing his leg, Booth shouted out Virginia’s state motto, “Sic semper tyrannis!”. He then escaped into the night. Three doctors on the scene rushed to the President’s aid, and they decided to bring him across the street to a boarding house, where a huge group of people kept vigil through the night. Lincoln died the following morning. ...
Even after winning the presidency, Barack Obama continues to channel Abraham Lincoln. Obama arrived in Washington via the same train route that Lincoln did in 1861. He swore the oath of office on Lincoln’s bible. He chose the same lunch that Lincoln ate on his inauguration day. And with the nation mired in a dizzying array of crises, Obama says that he looks to Lincoln for inspiration. Ron Paul, meanwhile, did not secure the Republican nomination, despite the passion of his supporters. Nevertheless, he, too, continues to use Lincoln for political purposes. On April 15, Paul and hundreds of thousands of limited-government activists took to the streets to rail about the long reach of federal authority. In addition to claiming that income tax is unconstitutional, leaders of these so-called Tea Parties raised the spectre of secession. Rick Perry, the Republican governor of Texas, warned that if pushed, the Lone Star state might decide to leave the Union. And when political commentators heaped scorn on Perry, Paul defended him, noting that, “it is very American to talk about secession”. Perhaps, but Lincoln deserves a more generous 200th birthday present.