First inaugural addresses mark a moment at once sacramental and instrumental.
The secular sacrament — the outward and visible sign of the inward, invisible grace in our polity — is the American democracy’s peaceful transfer of power. Through the contentiousness of an election campaign, the people’s mandate, not just for this or that leader, but for the constitutional processes themselves, has been both bestowed and renewed. Inaugural addresses invariably remind us of America’s historically unmatched commitment to popular sovereignty and individual liberty in the context of national unity.
It is fashionable to dismiss this element of these addresses as so much rhetoric. But such rhetoric, like liturgy for a faith, plays an essential role in maintaining the vigor of our national life and the constancy of our national purpose. In his first inaugural, on the brink of civil war, Abraham Lincoln, addressing soon to be secessionists, invoked ” [t]he mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land….” Such words, even in such a circumstance as Lincoln’s, are essential to preserving the perfection of this more perfect union.
In saying they are instrumental, I mean that inaugural addresses must at some point turn from the timeless to the immediate. Every new president has campaigned on an argument about the pressing needs of the nation and the actions the government should take to meet them. Even when the incoming president replaces one of his party (as, for example, when George H.W. Bush succeeded Ronald Reagan), new administrations always, in one way or another, break with the past, presenting a new program for a new now. In their first address upon assuming office, presidents typically reaffirm their campaign themes, relate those themes to the nation and the world of that hour, and in broad terms set out what they will do first. Franklin Roosevelt not only, famously, in his first inaugural, affirmed, “the only think we have to fear is fear itself.” He also proclaimed, “We must act. We must act quickly.” And he detailed what he called “the lines of attack”.
I expect President Obama’s Tuesday address to excel on both the sacramental and instrumental levels. Both have been features of his discourse over the last two years and have often been intertwined. For example, his litany on the stump included the commitment to bring together “Republicans, Independents and Democrats,” invoking a view of the nation and his coming administration as larger than party, even while acknowledging party. A pledge he has repeated in recent days, it is a simultaneous appeal to purpose and method that exactly fits, I believe, the nation’s temper in our day.
As a speechwriter for the Great Communicator, I learned very early that among Ronald Reagan’s least understood and most powerful qualities was his extraordinary sensitivity to language. This quality is clearly at play in Mr. Obama. He has a tendency towards sanctimony and overblown phrasing, which he needs to control. Even high rhetoric should feel accessible, almost, if not quite, conversational. But he is extraordinary at the subtle invocation of the American experience, including the African-American experience, this last particularly through unattributed quoting (similar to how Lincoln used Biblical quotes) of Martin Luther King.
His great challenge will be to sound fresh. The mix of high and low — of transcendent and immediate — has been so much a part of his speaking to date that he could end up revisiting old favorites and come off as repetitious, even tedious. If so, the grandeur of the moment will rescue him. But it would be better if he and his writers took note of this hazard and adjusted accordingly.
As a professional and as an American, I am looking forward to seeing Barack Obama step for the first time to the presidential podium.
Editor’s Note: A version of this post originally appeared on the New York Time’s Blog “Room for Debate” and is available here.
