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Kevin Kruse

Princeton University, author of White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism (2005)

How much will Obama’s being black matter in the end? In, say, 20 years, will it be a major or minor aspect of his presidency and, to the extent that it will matter, in what specific way will it matter most?

Obama’s race will ultimately seem akin to President Kennedy’s religion. Each will certainly be remembered for his pioneering role, but upon closer inspection it’s clear that neither of them wanted to be remembered primarily (or even partially) for the breakthrough he embodied.

On the campaign trail, each candidate understood that his unique background attracted many voters but threatened to alienate even more. Accordingly, each sought to avoid the issue until circumstances dictated that they confront it directly. When his opponents worried openly that he would take orders from the Vatican, Kennedy made a major speech in 1960 to assure panicked Protestants that he would show no religious favoritism. “I am not the Catholic candidate for president,” he insisted. “I am the Democratic Party’s candidate for president, who happens also to be Catholic.” Obama likewise downplayed race in 2008 until Jeremiah Wright forced his hand. He then delivered a similar speech, assuring white voters that he would not display any racial favoritism as president.

Once in office, both presidents went to great lengths to prove those claims. Kennedy rigidly maintained the separation of church and state, doing far more than his Protestant predecessors to avoid mixing religion and politics. In the same vein, Obama steered clear of anything that could be construed as “special treatment” for racial minorities, taking a lighter touch with issues of race relations than the previous two white occupants of the White House had. When black leaders asserted that African-Americans were suffering disproportionately in the economic meltdown and urged Obama to address their needs, the president begged off. “I can’t pass laws that say I’m just helping black folks,” he said. “I’m the president of the United States.”

Even though Obama has largely steered clear of racial issues in office, critics still see racial motivations in virtually everything he does. (Rush Limbaugh insisted that both the 2009 stimulus and the 2010 health-care law were somehow “reparations” for African-Americans.) But as the contrast between the paranoia of such critics and the plainness of Obama’s actions becomes clear to Americans over time, the power of racism will be diminished—much as the power of religious bigotry was after Kennedy’s presidency.

Will future historians blame Obama for not getting more done in a climate of Republican obstructionism, or will he be given a pass for it? More generally, to what degree will his presidency be seen as “transformative” (the word he used to describe the Reagan administration)?

Gridlock will certainly be remembered as a defining feature of Obama’s presidency. This is somewhat ironic, given Obama’s almost pathological commitment to bipartisanship. He famously made his political debut with a 2004 address that downplayed the idea of a divided nation and then won the presidency with the promise of a “post-partisan future.” When he took office, he seemed intent on fulfilling that promise. Obama placed two Republicans in his Cabinet, tying a modern record for bipartisanship there; he almost secured that record outright with a third Republican member, until that appointee abruptly bowed out. Likewise, Obama’s initial legislative initiatives had bipartisan pedigrees: a third of the 2009 stimulus package was comprised of Republican tax cut proposals while the 2010 health-care plan had a conservative lineage.

Despite such gestures, Obama’s quest for bipartisanship was met with unbridled hostility. Even before he had been sworn in, Republican leaders in Congress convinced their members to refuse to work with the president and thereby deny him any accomplishments that might be characterized as bipartisan. Whatever Obama proposed, they would oppose. As Republican senator George Voinovich recalled, their resistance was thorough and reflexive: “If he was for it, we had to be against it.”

Scholars in the future will surely see the historic levels of obstructionism from the GOP as one of the defining features of this era, but at the same time they will likely conclude that Obama’s record in the face of such resistance—especially the flurry of activity in the 2009–10 period—was quite remarkable.

Will future historians concur with the administration’s own narrative of having saved the country from another Great Depression? Or will Obama’s economic legacy be seen as a lackluster performance or, worse, a failed attempt to reform the U.S. economy in any meaningful way?

Yes, I think historians will concur with the administration’s claims that it was successful in averting a second Great Depression. Though the recovery has certainly been imperfect and improvements have stemmed from factors other than the administration’s policies, it’s nevertheless true that all the major economic indicators show a significant turnaround coinciding with the implementation of the stimulus package.

Future historians will doubtlessly criticize Obama for not doing much more to reform the system, but that was never his intent. Much like FDR’s handling of the first Great Depression, Obama’s instinct was to shore up a crumbling system rather than let it crash so he could build a new one in its place. He built an economic team of insiders and refused to prosecute Wall Street. Whether the administration was wise to prop up the system remains to be seen; that they did so successfully seems quite clear.

What will be seen as Obama’s single most significant accomplishment?

The Affordable Care Act. Like Social Security and Medicare before it, the ACA began as an imperfect and controversial program. But now that the premise and the program have been established, it will likely expand steadily in the coming decades.

Will Obama’s reputation have improved or declined in 20 years?

It should improve a bit. The partisan rancor will fade somewhat once he’s left office—compare the revulsion Republicans had for Bill Clinton in the 1990s with the grudging respect many afford him now. His programs and policies will be evaluated on their own merits and likely come off fairly well.

Which of Obama’s speeches and phrases will be the most enduring?

“A More Perfect Union” (2008).