Sitting watching Chiwetel Ejiofor recently in the Donmar’s production of Othello, I was struck by the face of the man sitting next to me during Othello’s legendary ‘Her father loved me, oft invited me’ speech of the first act. He was clearly mesmerised by Ejiofor’s portrayal of the Moor. But more interesting was his look of slight bewilderment; unwittingly mirroring the faces of the Venetians onstage.
The Othello of the first act is a figure that captivates, intrigues and inspires white Venetian society and the soldiers serving under him. We are made immediately aware of Brabantio’s initial fascination with the Moor, ease with inviting him into his home and desire to hear his stories, which quickly descends into fear and accusations of witchcraft when he learns that his daughter Desdemona has fallen in love and married him. In short, he is allowed to be a brilliant warrior and orator — but a son-in-law is a little too close for comfort. The audience knows that this is because he is black. Brabantio is a concerned father, but however one looks at it, he is still a racist. In these first scenes, Shakespeare illustrates the ease with which awe can mutate into something entirely different. It is a process of mutation that continues to this day, albeit less overtly — witness the complex brew of emotions surrounding Barack Obama and his ascent. The Senator for Illinois is almost universally acknowledged as inspirational, charismatic and a master of rhetoric, a campaigner — emboldened by his win in Wisconsin — who brings hope, and energises people previously disengaged from politics.
But is he the next president? For all the misty eyes, it is becoming commonplace to allege that he is somehow ‘lacking in substance’, too heavily dependent upon such vague notions as ‘hope’ and ‘unity’. Not so long ago, the mere presence in the political mainstream of so influential a black politician would have had the Brabantios, the ‘stupid white men’ of yore, locking up their wives and daughters, whipping out their garlic in fear. Today, racially motivated reservations express themselves much more subtly. But they are there all the same.
Thus, the caricature of Obama as the passionate yet politically flimsy candidate is quickly becoming the ‘one size fits all’ solution to all discussion surrounding the US election. It works for both dinner-party conversation and editorials and makes everyone feel terribly politically correct. America gets to believe it is in some way leading the world as a beacon of equality, with its sex and race hat-trick of black man, white man, white woman; Obama gets to ‘take part’ and be acknowledged for having made a valiant effort. Cocktail parties can neatly avoid racial debate, or even the mention of the word ‘black’ by sticking to the candidates’ plans for healthcare and Hillary Clinton’s outfits. In short, everyone sleeps easily again, lulled into believing the nonsense that Obama is so devoid of solid policy compared with McCain and Clinton that his campaign is destined for failure. Which, in turn, means avoiding their true feelings about the prospect of a black President.
Yet that prospect is now more real than it has ever been. And those who would prefer to be straddling the McCain-Clinton divide will continue to be drawn, moth-like, to Obama’s appearances — simply because they can’t help but listen to him speak. One doesn’t need Shakespeare to begin uncovering the roots of the desire to dismiss, or feelings of unease surrounding Obama (although it helps). In fact, this discomfort can be found festering in living rooms and bars on both sides of the Atlantic. Take interracial relationships. Officially, nobody cares about such things any more. Yet, in truth, black-white pairings continue to unleash a variety of reactions, whether surreptitious or more explicit, as soon as introductions are made.
Say a white girl introduces her new black boyfriend to her largely white group of school and university friends. He will be embraced into the fold like an old chum. But watch carefully and you might see one of her white male friends conspiratorially whisper in her ear ‘So, is it true what they say?’ as soon as his back is turned. It will always be said with an awkward chortle but the underlying sentiment remains. He may work in McDonald’s or be a presidential contender, but all that her white male friend will care about will be nervously dismissing the relationship as purely sexual as quickly as possible. Failing that, the white man will attempt to assert his intellectual superiority. Next, he might label the girl as obsessed with black men in the hope that she won’t dare date another for fear of being mocked. Call it a warped survival instinct.
The new boyfriend can by all means be very good-looking, well-endowed, stupid or any combination of the three; in short, he can exist, albeit still feared, as what Eldridge Cleaver once called ‘the super masculine menial’ in his controversial work of 1968, Soul on Ice. Yet the moment there is any discussion of the black man having substance and intellectual prowess in combination with his physicality, the white man quickly becomes overawed — not to say redundant.
He can only stand back and watch while a new super-male emerges complete with go-faster stars, stripes, 50 states — and a gaggle of blondes if he wishes. However well concealed this response may be, it is real and should perhaps be acknowledged before the words ‘lacking in substance’ are so lazily thrown around as a safe means of expressing ugly emotions. As much as white men claim otherwise, the truth is that Barack Obama is feared. For his ability to inspire, his profound hope for the future, desire for change and, to return to Othello, for the ‘dangers [he] had passed’.
These dangers are not the overt racism he encountered growing up, which he speaks of in Dreams from My Father, or the car crash that killed his father and nearly Obama too, but the far more dangerous breed of cocktail racist lurking behind a plate of vol-au-vents; the white man who happily drones on about how he thinks Obama is wonderful, that a black president would be a jolly good idea, and that he would love to support him — but that he can’t possibly as he is simply too lightweight politically; too lacking in substance. Whether his fear has resulted in his racism, or the other way around, is what he should be asked.