[This is the conclusion of a two-part review of Dr. Shelby Steele’s latest book, A Bound Man: Why We Are Excited About Obama and Why He Can’t Win. Part 1 can be found here.]
Steele traces portions of Obama’s history (as described in the latter’s best-selling Dreams from My Father) that unpack how Obama has painfully come to terms with his identity as a bi-racial man who never knew his father. Firstly, Steele (himself bi-racial) explains that being racially mixed resulted in Obama experiencing a greater drive to connect with fellow African Americans. This was no doubt exacerbated by Obama never knowing his black father. In Dreams, Obama recounts meeting a black nationalist named Rafiq while performing community development work in Chicago. Rather than refuting Rafiq (from the vantage point of a strong personal responsibility ethic learned from his white mother), Obama rationalizes his way toward tolerating Rafiq’s anger, even though he recognizes Rafiq is gaming the system.
Obama later recounts a more painful and more personal account. There is a one-year long romantic relationship with a white woman. Although there is clear marriage potential, Obama is afraid of losing his perceived black identity. While visiting her family’s country house, Obama has an epiphany in her grandfather’s study: she inhabits a different world then his. Obama reflects, “And I knew that if we stayed together I’d eventually live in her [world]. After all, I’d been doing it most of my life. Between the two of us, I was the one who knew how to live as an outsider.”
If Steele is right, this need to be “black” (and reading Steele makes me want to read Dreams from My Father) helps explain why Obama would choose a deeply racialist church–and stay in that church for twenty years, even as his political visibility rose, and even though he knew his pastor regularly expounded a highly exclusive black liberation theology.
So Obama walks a tightrope. On the one hand, he retains his “blackness” (his church affiliation, his liberal policy perspectives that imply (white) institutional responsibility to rectify achievement gaps along racial lines, his not letting whites “off the hook”). On the other hand, he mutes these themes as he appeals to whites as a symbol of redemption: a chance to finally move beyond our nation’s racist past. Steele notes that Obama must win sufficient white support in order to be taken seriously by African Americans as a viable candidate, but yet if he wins too much white support, African Americans become suspicious. Hence his speech. He cannot repudiate Wright, lest he lose black support. Yet he must deplore the vacuous, inflammatory comments by Wright, lest he lose white support.
I think Steele’s book helpfully explains why Obama is doing so well, even though he is only a few years out from being a mere state senator. Obama’s campaign began with a wonkish flavor; the constitutional law professor delving into details at town hall meetings. That didn’t engage voters, and Hillary stayed 20 points ahead. Then Obama changed his game: less focus on specifics and policy proposals and more on the “aura” or “mood” he elicits on the basis of who he is (coupled with a strong rhetorical eloquence and repeated, albeit content-less, calls for “change”). Obama’s support skyrocketed and remained strong as he dominated state after state (until recently). Steele’s argument is consistent with this observation. Obama is popular because of what he represents. His appeal is largely symbolic.
Much more can be said, but this shall have to suffice. All in all, an absolutely fantastic read. I find Steele engaging, clear-headed, and very compelling. If there is one weakness with this book, it is that I found it hard to see where Steele fits into all this. Like Obama, Steele is an African American with a white mother. Steele is clearly not a “challenger” (as he defines the term). But I could not help wondering as I read: “Is he a ‘bargainer’?” After all, he assumes that whites are innocent. He gives them the benefit of the doubt. He gives whites moral authority. He doesn’t forcefully remind whites of their racist past. In return, he receives ample generosity and goodwill.
In the final analysis, I do not think Steele is a bargainer. I would have loved for Steele to contrast himself more from Obama, particularly with regard to “the audacity of hope” for a post-racialist future. One might say that both Obama and Steele convey such “hope”–Obama because of his rhetorical style and politically correct ideology, and Steele because of the raw substance of his message: that our freedom and dignity is based on our universal humanity (I would add “under God”), not the color of our skin or our ancestry. You decide which hope is built on a more solid foundation.

In the wake of Pastor Jeremiah Wright’s inflammatory sermons and Senator Obama electing to make a major speech on the topic of race, I read with great interest Shelby Steele’s new book A Bound Man: Why We Are Excited About Obama and Why He Can’t Win. Steele’s thesis is that Obama is “bound” between two competing political needs. On the one hand, he must appeal to whites by symbolizing the promise of a new, more hopeful form of interracial relations. To that end, Obama offers an attractive alternative to the polarizing demeanor of men like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton — black leaders who ran for President primarily to promote racial agendas and never achieved significant appeal among whites.
Steele classifies Jackson and Sharpton as “challengers.” Challengers operate on the assumption that “whites are incorrigibly racist until they do something to prove otherwise.” Their power in mainstream society comes from being able to absolve whites (and institutions primarily led by whites) of the (presumed) guilt of racism. Challengers put whites in the position of having to earn racial innocence by supporting certain public policies and adhering to politically correct language and customs. In essence, they employ white guilt in one of three forms:

(1) “white people did x and therefore black people should have y”;
(2) “white people are guilty of x and therefore they cannot say or do y”; or
(3) “white people bear ultimately responsibility for black uplift” (i.e. achievement gains).

Though perhaps able to secure some concessions for African Americans, challengers tend to fall short in national campaigns because they have no positive bridge to mainstream Americans.
By contrast, Steele classifies Senator Obama as a “bargainer.” What bargainers do, says Steele, is offer whites immediate innocence and moral authority (which they naturally lack given the history of racism toward blacks) in return for goodwill and generosity. In Dreams from My Father, Obama recounts learning, as a teenager, that people were generally relieved “to find a well-mannered young black man who didn’t seem angry all the time.” Obama often reminds audiences that he has a white mother and grandmother. He represents for whites a chance to move forward — beyond the painful reminders with which Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton regularly confront them (which, says Steele, makes them uncomfortable and detracts from the coalescence of political alliances).
Steele maintains (and I agree) that Obama has the temperament, intelligence, and background to guide America beyond the racial identity politics of the past. And yet — Obama is “bound” by his need to “be black” in a racialist sense. This is the most fascinating part of the book, and I suspect the most controversial as well. I’ll tackle this theme in part II of this review.