In last night’s debate, Barack Obama offered what is to my mind the most forceful argument for his candidacy: shouldn’t we be facing John McCain with someone whose record on the war in Iraq is unequivocally different from the senator from Arizona— someone who’s opposed the war all along, and who has the ability to say unambiguously, “There’s no question of being ‘right’ about the surge; you were wrong on the war from the very beginning, and still don’t recognize it”?  Subliminally, Obama seemed to be invoking the ghost of John Kerry’s candidacy, which was sunk, far more than by swift-boating or dearth of charisma, by his inability to give a straight answer to his position on the war.  The implication was that, if we really want a repeat of November 3, 2004—a day when every Democrat I knew looked as though someone had drowned their new puppy—all we need to do is pit someone who will try to mince words about the war against John McCain in the general election.  I may be imagining things, but it seemed Clinton withered a little at that argument.  There was simply no use trying to rebut the point; she’s made a series of decisions about the war that seemed politically necessary, but which have left her utterly defenseless now that the winds have changed direction.

Of course, when I say the wind has changed direction, it is not because I think Americans suddenly rediscovered their consciences and have decided that the war is wrong, wrong, and terribly wrong.  Despite the euphoria that swept through much of the Democratic Party early on in the primaries, either Obama or Senator Clinton will face an uphill battle against McCain with respect to foreign policy.  This is because, despite the “it’s hard out here for a pimp” sentiments of William Kristol and his ilk, the hawks virtually own the terms of discourse in this country regarding foreign policy and what can only euphemistically be called “national defense.”

Consider how readily even the most unlikely Democrats on the national stage leap to vociferous chest-thumping.  It was embarrassing when John Kerry promised “to hunt down and kill” the terrorists, not just because he seemed awkward and insincere, but because we still live in a country that demands this blithely murderous swagger in its leaders.  People forget how violently anti-Communist JFK was, or how “nice guys” like Carter pumped money into the coffers the Suhartos of the world in order to “protect American interests.”  The MSM has been complicit in painting the Democratic Party as essentially antiwar, but this has really never been the case.  In fact, one could argue that there has never been a truly mainstream antiwar movement in this country; rather, we seem always to reach a point where people get sick and tired of hearing about or paying for military campaigns—which, obviously, is not the same thing at all.

This is why it’s easy for a guy like John McCain to be a “straight-talker.”  His support of the escalation in Iraq (no, I still will not accept the more innocuous-sounding “surge”) may have cut into his polling numbers, but it did not get him labeled a crank or blindly pro-military nutjob.  Public figures may be criticized, but they don’t get marginalized in this country for being hawkish.  On the other side of the ideological fence, only “unelectable” candidates such as Dennis Kucinich can express what many of us actually feel: a fundamental moral opposition to the use of military power as an instrument of policy.  Viable candidates on the national stage, even if they agree with him on this principle, can’t afford to say so.  This, of course, includes Barack Obama.

I think it was during the Democratic debates on NPR that Obama uttered a phrase that sent shudders down my spine—and not in a good way.  The talk had drifted to foreign policy, and Obama, defending himself against allegations that he was too soft (perish the thought), commented offhandedly, “I believe in American exceptionalism.”  I might have made the sound that accompanies wafting a carton of milk that has turned to the clumpy side.  Later, I reminded myself that in practice, Mr. Obama was less hawkish than anyone on the stage except Dennis Kucinich, and since he followed with a promise to make vigorous diplomacy the lynchpin of his foreign policy, it occurred to me that, as usual, he was using an effective communication technique familiar to anyone who’s ever taken a writing workshop: “I liked some of the images.  Now, you might consider cutting this line…”  Still, as is probably clear from a number of my previous columns, I find the very notion of American exceptionalism and the policies it signifies so objectionable that it was months before I was persuaded by the uplift and promise of his candidacy that had energized so many of my cohort.

Very recently, I’ve begun to realize a funny paradox about Obama’s effectiveness as a leader.  He is widely seen as an idealist and a dreamer not so much because of his policy goals but because of his belief in the power of inclusiveness and reconciliation.  But it is this very attitude that, in practice, reveals his ultimate pragmatism.  Barack Obama does not tend to browbeat his political opponents with the rightness of his position; rather, he tends to appeal to people—including political adversaries— in a very personal manner, to listen, and to say, in effect, “What can we get done together?”  There is a key understanding of human behavior at work here: while it is fruitless to try to persuade people to change their values, it may be possible to convince them that you share more common ground than they assume.

His tack on the war has been a telling example of this approach.  Last night, Obama stressed once again that he does not oppose war on principle; that he was against the war in Iraq because it was imprudent and a waste of resources, not because he thought it was wrong; and that he still believes it’s important for the United States to have the most powerful military in the world.  He also made a blunt pragmatic case against continuing the war— basically, “Folks, we can’t afford this.”  This is hardly soaring idealism.  But it has the virtue of being true, and being an argument that a great majority of Americans—Democrat or Republican—can understand and agree with.  Though obviously I wish we lived in a country (or a world) in which a moral, or if you prefer, compassionate argument would be sufficient, I’ve come to realize that such wishes do not actually change anything.  Perhaps the greatest irony of this campaign is that people think of Hillary Clinton as tough, hard-nosed, and pragmatic, while the author of The Audacity of Hope seems to comprehend basic human cynicism better than anyone in the game.  And this quality is absolutely necessary in any leader interested in, well, actually changing the world for the better.