A crowd is gathered beneath the huge crystal chandelier of the Fairmont’s Grand Ballroom. They are dressed in ordinary, sometimes scruffy clothes, and they contrast with the formal grandeur of the room around them. Hardly talking to each other, they all cluster towards a big TV at the front. White placards bob above their head, saying “Yes we can,” or just single words like “Hope” and “Change”.
On the television a confident, small yet imposing African man is speaking, another crowd stood behind him – a digital reflection of this room. The man is Barack Obama. He is using his sweeping rhetoric to powerful effect. With his right hand he seems to squeeze together the tight phrases, swinging his arm to offer them to the rapt audience. His words rise and fall like a symphony, charged with excitement. Almost every sentence is punctuated with the word ‘change’ – the other words dancing around this central pole, this key message. Almost every sentence brings whoops of delight from the crowds, a building pressure of excitement, leaping out in little bursts of ecstatic applause.
There is perhaps no real substance to what Obama is saying. It’s just the glossy surface, the soft waves of a deep sea of politics – nobody even knows how deep! But tonight isn’t the night for substance. Obama’s speech is lifting up to a climax. Can we do it? He asks. “Yes we can!” The crowd chant back. “Yes we can.” Their arms are raised and they pound the glittering air of the ballroom with their fists. It’s slightly frightening, like some fundamentalist cult.
The flash of cameras burst from the side of the room, capturing this glorious moment. This could be a historic point – the time when America changed forever. Yet, like Obama’s speeches, the substance of the glory is yet to be realized.
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