Pride in President? We Can Manage Without It

I have heard celebrated people say that they want to vote for someone who inspires them, who makes them feel proud once again to be an American.

How many people actually feel proud of their president? Do they wake up each morning, stretch, and crow,"It's a good day to be alive because of my president!"?

It is understandable, even commendable, if Americans are proud of their own achievements, of their families, of their communities, of what others have been able to achieve, of the majestic and varied American landscape. I would be proud if at least one American actor won an Oscar, especially with all the universities, colleges and acting schools charging young hopefuls prohibitive tuitions to teach them precisely that. I would also be proud of America if Americans did not prefer to hire aliens to well-paying jobs that Americans would love to do, to say nothing of the jobs Americans will not or cannot afford to take. But the president cannot increase or diminish my pride in America--even if he stumbles on a word or falls off a stage or belches in public. For me being a proud American has nothing to do with the president. This is a good thing, too, because even from my pre-voting days, I have never been happy with our elected presidents.

Of course, pride-in-president should not surprise anyone who has studied mythology or seen Joseph Campbell on PBS fund raisers. People clearly need heroes to worship, icons to venerate, presidents to generate pride, mythological figures to lead us through individual and collective darkness. Frederick Douglass tells us in his Autobiography that even slaves were often proud of their masters and argued with the slaves of other plantations over which had the better master. Russians today support the autocratic ways of Vladimir Putin because they like the way he looks bare-chested.

There are many ways to interpret this puzzling tendency. It may be a psychological mechanism, introjection, that allows the weak to incorporate the notions of the strong. Or it is a collective response to a deep-seated longing for family relationships in a society that subordinates these relationships to personal goals, ambitions, and achievements. By bonding with figures we will never meet and whose images are manufactured for our approval we can belong to something abstract when we watch the news.

But in America we should know better than to trust our fates to figures of myth and speech. The frontier was not settled with oratory. Our major wars were not fought with speeches. Our significant inventions and discoveries were not made with grandiloquence. Cyrus McCormick filled our bellies, not Johnny Appleseed; Vanderbilt built the railroads, not John Henry; Bessemer and Carnegie were men of steel, not Superman. Resolve, not pride, enabled waves of immigrants to root and spring forth hearty generations. And it was a quiet courage and survival instinct that enabled New Yorkers to go back to work in downtown Manhattan and endure months of acrid air, unexplained train stoppages, and the constant threat of more attacks after two of our architectural icons were blasted off the earth's surface at Ground Zero.

New Yorkers showed the practical wisdom to elect Michael Bloomberg in the aftermath of the worst tragedy to afflict this city since the draft riots of 1863--not because he was a great guy, but a resourceful manager. Largely forgotten in all that happened on 9/11 was that it was the city's primary day. Democrats were as always prohibitive favorites to win the city's highest office. A Republican tycoon and political neophyte opposed them. Despite running commercials recounting his generic rags-to-riches story, he remained widely unknown. No one gave Mike Bloomberg a chance. He was not a native New Yorker, did share New Yorkers' experiences, sensibilities or their party affiliation, and was not charismatic enough to overcome these liabilities.

Then two things happened. Terrorists slammed jets into the World Trade Center and the Democratic candidates, Mark Green and Fernando Ferrer, engaged in a fratricidal struggle for the nomination that ruined the eventual nominee's prospects in the general election.

At that moment Mike Bloomberg's political assets matured in the public eye. A shocked and anxious city and a divided opposition forced New Yorkers to coldly assess the city's needs. These transcended political affiliations, the Democratic sweet talk of entitlement and social programs, and a candidate's charisma. Excellent management and an entrepreneurial flair were top priorities. People who ordinarily voted for the promise of Democrats now selected the resume and proven business acumen of a man who amassed billions building a financial empire in less than twenty years. They expected him to do likewise for New York. At times, the hopes Bloomberg's supporters foisted on him sounded like day dreams. One executive I knew speculated that because Bloomberg was a businessman, he would create more jobs--as if this were within a mayor's powers and job description.

Yes, at times the expectations on Bloomberg seemed excessive, even naive. But at least, New York voters were using our heads, not our hearts, to elect our leader. We saved our hearts for the city. We looked dispassionately at what New York needed most--to heal, to improve, to revive--and we chose the individual best equipped to accomplish this. We were willing to be analytical about our vote, to sacrifice some of the fun of choosing.

This is this sacrifice that American voters should consider making when we vote for president. One of the aspects of presidential politics that bothers me and has always bothered me is that Americans en masse fail to be as practical as New Yorkers when evaluating our candidates. So often, they revert to high school political considerations--who they like, who has the best smiles, who they might want to be friends with--instead of being adults and choosing the person who is best equipped to run our country.

Hope, change, pride, the future, points of light--they are all good but they do not illuminate or solve our problems. Marx called religion the opiate for the masses. Presidential politics is our crack binge. We get high on candidates, rather than scrutinize them. We like the twinkle in their eye, the mischief in their smile, their party tricks. We like to see them in hipster shades and hear them play licks on a saxophone, or hear them tell jokes. We want them to be nice above all. No intellectuals, no angry people. We prefer a candidate who stumbles and bumbles to one who challenges us to think.

We get the government we deserve. This is because we make our political system out of our character and needs. We believe in individual liberty and initiative and deep down most of us have as much faith in government as we do in hospitals and courts. We do not expect government to solve our personal problems or the burdens of society, and we only hope to minimize those it may cause. Yet, democracy and voting are a part of our tradition and must retain their importance in our lives. And to do so they must fulfill other needs. And no need is as insistent in today's American citizen as the appetite for entertainment. If our political figures cannot address our concerns or improve our lives, at least they can excite our days by providing drama, comedy, spectacle, catharsis. Our election campaigns have become endless gladiatorials with a few campaign rally revival meetings thrown in, with choirs, incantatory sermonizing and witnessing.

This perversion of presidential politics needs to stop if the American people are ever to get the right candidate elected president, the one who will finally do a good job. We need to pretend that we are interviewing somebody for a position instead of choosing Mr. America. The problem is that most voters have never interviewed anyone for a job. They have always been on the job-seeking end of the exchange. They do not see themselves in the boss position, even when it is their vote, their decision.

In New York, when hope is called for, we call upon a manager, a go-to, can-do person who has proven himself in the dull, consistent, work-a-day business of running things smoothly. Rhetoric is sweet but it won't buy a ride on the subway. America--it's time to get on board with this sober concept.