A Song for You

Remarks of Senator Barack Obama: 'A More Perfect Union'

"We the people, in order to form a more perfect union."

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America's improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation's original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution - a Constitution that had at its very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part - through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk - to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign - to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together - unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction - towards a better future for our children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton's Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I've gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world's poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners - an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It's a story that hasn't made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts - that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either "too black" or "not black enough." We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely - just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren't simply controversial. They weren't simply a religious leader's effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country - a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright's comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems - two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn't all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God's work here on Earth - by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note - hope! - I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion's den, Ezekiel's field of dry bones. Those stories - of survival, and freedom, and hope - became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn't need to feel shame about...memories that all people might study and cherish - and with which we could start to rebuild."

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety - the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity's services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions - the good and the bad - of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother - a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America - to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through - a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.

Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments - meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families - a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods - parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement - all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it - those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations - those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience - as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they're told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren't always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze - a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns - this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It's a racial stalemate we've been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naïve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy - particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction - a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people - that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances - for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans -- the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives - by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American - and yes, conservative - notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright's sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country - a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know -- what we have seen - is that America can change. That is the true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope - the audacity to hope - for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination - and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past - are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds - by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world's great religions demand - that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother's keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister's keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle - as we did in the OJ trial - or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation - the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I'd like to leave you with today - a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King's birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that's when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother's problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn't. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, "I am here because of Ashley."

"I'm here because of Ashley." By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

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경제적으로 풍요롭지 못한 사람들이 진보정당에 투표하는 일은 언뜻 상식처럼 느껴진다. 하지만 현실에서 이 같은 상식은 상식이 아니다. 왜 그럴까?

대부분의 사람들은 가난하다. 하지만 그들은 부자를 위해 투표한다. 얼핏 분열증 같아 보이는 이 현상은 영원히 풀리지 않을 수수께끼처럼 진보진영의 논객들을 괴롭혀왔다. 논객과 진보 정치인들은 사람들이 계급적 정체성에 밝지 못하고, 눈을 뜨지 못하고, 상식적으로 행동하지 못하는 데 분노한다. 그리고 계몽하려 애쓴다. 하지만 이 계몽은 쉽게 작동하지 않는다.

경제학자들은 인간이 결국에 사사로운 이익관계를 좇아 움직일 수 밖에 없다고 이야기한다. 실제 대부분의 인간은 사익에 따라 결정하고 행동한다. 이는 매우 상식적인 이야기로 들린다. 하지만 이 상식은 머릿속의 상식이다. 현실에서 우리는 자신의 주머니 사정에 따라 투표하는 사람들을 거의 찾아볼 수 없다. 많은 수의 진보 운동가와 논객, 정치인들은 선택받은 가정에서 온갖 혜택을 받고 자랐다. 그러고도 분배를 논한다. 많은 수의 가난한 사람들은 그와 같은 혜택을 거의 받지 못하고 자랐다. 그러고도 집중을 논한다. 앞서 말한 상식이 통했다면 소수의 집중되고 편향된 자본을 위해 종사하는 보수 정당은 절대 집권할 수 없다.  

그 같은 상식이 현실의 상식이라면 다음과 같은 권유는 정당하다. - 당신의 주머니를 행복하게 해줄 수 있는 정당과 후보에게 투표하라. 당신의 주머니를 지지하라는 말은 요구라기보다 질문이며, 이는 곧 당신의 계급적 정체성을 묻는 것이다. - 하지만 사실 이런 식의 주문은 헛되다. 왜 당신의 계급에 따라 투표하지 않느냐고 지적하고 계몽하는 일은 끔찍할 정도로 소모적이다. 궁극적으로, 이런 식의 주문은 실제 가난한 사람들의 귀에 들어가지 않기 때문이다. 귀에다 대고 소리 질러도, 동의를 구할 수 없다. 실제 들리지 않는다! 가난한 당신이 이명박을 선택했을 때 당하게 될 온갖 종류의 불이익을 도표로 만들어 오른손에 들고, 권영길을 선택했을 때 얻게 될 온갖 종류의 혜택을 도표로 만들어 왼손에 들고 그들에게 외쳐봐라. 당장은 고개를 끄덕일 것이다. 하지만 우리는 이 가난한 사람들의 대다수가 결국 이명박을 선택할 것이라는 걸 알고 있다. 도대체 왜? 

이 나라에서 스스로 중산층이라고 믿는 사람들은 70퍼센트에 달한다. 하지만 실제 한국의 중산층은 40퍼센트가 채 되지 않는다. 이 놀라운 통계의 마술은 한 가지 명징한 진실을 환기시킨다. 사람들은 자신이 보고 싶은 것만 보고, 기억하고 싶은 것만 기억한다는 사실이다. 우리는 이 가상의 필터를 ‘가치관’이라고 부른다. 수많은 장르영화들이 이 같은 소재를 다뤄왔다. 사람들은 자신의 계급적 정체성에 따라 투표하지 않는다. 바로 이 가치관에 따라 투표한다.

요컨대 가난한 사람들이 부자를 위한 정책 정당을 지지하는 이유는, 그들이 부자를 좋아하기 때문이다. 부유함이나 풍요로움 같은 부자의 가치를 좋아하기 때문이다. 또한 그와 함께 수반돼 연상되는 보수적 언어를 ‘옳은 것’으로 인식하기 때문이다. 누가 혹은 어떤 정당이 서민을 대변하고 말고는 고려 대상이 아니다. 사람들은 부자를 보며 박탈감을 느끼지 않는다. 성공신화에 매료될 뿐이다. 부와 이익이라는 (그들이 생각하기에) 긍정적 에너지에 박수를 보낼 뿐이다. 가난한 사람들은 적지 않은 부자들이 적당한 부패와 조작과 위장을 즐긴다는 사실을 잘 알고 있다. 하지만 이에 대해 문제의식을 갖지는 않는다. 그저 부자라면 그 정도는 저지를 수 있다고 생각하는 거다. 이 자본주의 사회에서 훌륭하게 입신에 성공한 저 부자들은 그만한 권리와 폭력을 응당 행사해도 된다고 생각하는 거다.  

이것은 단순한 존경이나 예우와 다르다. 겨우 존경심 때문에 사익과 반대되는 선택을 할 정도로 인간의 두뇌가 간단하지는 않다. 그건 우리가 여태 태어나서 자라고 배우고 번식하고 경쟁하고 버티고 버텨 살아온 이 사회가 근본적으로 보수적인 언어의 토대 위에 건설된 탓이다. 사람들은 부자 - 성공 - 상위 3퍼센트 - 대기업 - 수출 - 재벌 - 시장주의 같은 단어들에서 긍정적 에너지를 느낀다. 반대로 복지 - 중소기업 - 88만원 세대 - 분양원가공개 등에선 무언가를 박탈당하는 듯한 상실감 따위의 부정적 에너지를 느낀다. 시장주의에 반대되는 입장을 표현하는데 사용되는 단어가 고작 '반시장주의'다. 세상에, 얼마나 부정적인가. 그 내밀한 사정에 대해선 무관심하다. 사람들은 보수적인 단어와 인식의 틀 위에서 살아왔다. 보수성을 ‘궁극적으로 안전하고 탄탄한‘ 것으로 인식한다. 

간단한 예로 TV와 영화 속 가부장 아버지와 아들의 관계를 짚어보자. 철옹성 같은 권위를 가진 아버지는 온갖 폭력과 부정을 저지르면서도, 결국에 가서 아들과의 화해에 이른다. 설명되지 않는 뜨거운 눈빛을 주고받으며 관계의 정상화를 이룬다. 가부장으로 대표되는 보수 이데올로기가 뜨거움과 결합하면서 ‘설명되지 않는 끈끈함’ 따위의 수사로 포장된다. 놀라운 건 대중이 이 같은 광경을 보며 감동한다는 사실이다. 물론 <천하장사 마돈나>같은 예외도 있다. 그건 그 영화를 만든 자들의 진보성과 현실인식의 탁월함을 증명한다. <천하장사 마돈나>는 흥행에 실패했다. 간단하다. 사람들은 소위 진보적인 상식이나 언어들을 ‘머리로’ 인식한다. 반대로 보수적인 상식이나 언어들은 ‘가슴으로’ 인식한다. 따로 학습이나 교육이 필요하지 않다. 

그럼으로써 ‘택시기사 농담’을 설명할 수 있게 된다. 사람들은 고된 노동에 시달리는 택시기사들 가운데 상당수가 보수정권을 옹호하는 현상을 이해하지 못한다. 하지만 대다수 노동직 근로자들이 그들의 가정에서 가부장적인 권위에 목말라 있으며, 경제가 어려워질수록 실추되는 가정 내 권력에 대해 큰 피해의식을 갖고 있음을 상기해보자. 간단한 이야기다. 택시기사는 바보가 아니다. 그들은 노동자라는 계급성을 갖고 있다. 하지만 그들의 행동을 결정하는 가치관과 정체성은 보수주의에 닿아있는 거다. 미국의 고속도로 트러커들 대다수가 공화당을 지지하는 것과 마찬가지 맥락이다.

그렇다면 지난 10년간 자칭 진보 정권이라고 불린 두 정부의 집권은 어떻게 설명할 수 있을까? 이는 보수와 진보 사이의 경쟁이었다기보다, 개혁세력의 안티 담론이 성공적으로 작동한 것에 더 가까웠다. 실제 이 두 정권의 정책은 조금도 진보적이지 않았다. 그저 과거와의 단절과 안티 담론의 연장선상 위에서 지루한 말싸움을 해온 것에 불과하다. 가끔씩 진보진영의 수사만 빌려왔는데, 이건 그저 한나라당과 자리싸움하는데 필요했기 때문이다. 특히 노무현 정권의 집권은 눈여겨볼만 하다. 그는 보수의 언어를 들고 나와 진보의 탈을 쓰고, 이를 뜨거운 개혁의 이미지로 치환하는데 성공했다. 많은 사람들이 이것을 긍정적인 것으로 인식했고, 결국 대선 승리의 드라마로 이어졌다. 욕할 게 아니라 공부해야 할 일이다. 그는 진정 언어의 마술사였던 것이다.

많은 수의 진보주의자들이 노무현 정권에 속았다고 생각한다. 하지만 무덤을 판 건 진보진영 스스로다. 정권 내내 진보진영은 ‘보고 싶은 것만 보고 듣고 싶은 것만 듣는’ 사람들의 행동에 옳고 그름의 틀을 가져가 비판했다. 어떻게 부정부패 우익 세력을 지지할 수 있냐고 꾸짖었다. 하지만 사람들은 보수적 가치관 안에서 살아왔을 뿐이다. 그 위로 당위성을 겹쳐 놓으면 격렬한 반감이 생길 수밖에 없다. 보이지 않아서 보지 못하는 건데, 그에 대해 욕을 하고 보수반동꼴통 소리를 서슴치 않았다. 보수진영이 가지고 있는 언어는 안정적으로 보였지만, 진보진영이 가지고 있는 언어란 고작해야 ‘쟤들은 안 돼’ 정도였다. 조롱이 팔할이었다.

현실 정치에서 진보진영이 얼마나 그릇된 전략에 따라 움직이고 있느냐가 바로 여기서 드러난다. 안티 담론에 의해 움직이다간 결코 긍정적인 이미지의 틀 안으로 진입할 수 없다. 기껏해야 상대하기 피곤한 사람 취급 밖에 받을 수 없다. 그런데도 진보진영은 도덕의 황폐화를 부르짖고 세상이 당장 망할 것처럼 시일야방성대곡을 목 놓아 불렀다. 유동적인 중간층은 서슬 퍼런 진보진영의 손을 들어주기 힘들어진다. 도무지 안정적인 비전을 제시할 그룹으로 비춰지지 않기 때문이다. 그런 와중에 보수진영에선 진보진영의 언어를 가져다가 잘 활용했다. 이회창 후보가 “돈이면 다 된다는 생각, 천민자본주의, 이거 안 됩니다”라고 말했을 때, 많은 진보주의자들은 이를 두고 술자리 안주삼아 실컷 비웃었다. 하지만 언어의 힘이란 무섭다. 불안정한 진보주의자보다는 안정적인 보수주의자의 개혁적 언동에 솔깃해하는 사람들이 많았다. 이명박 후보도 ‘청년 실업’이나 ‘비정규직 문제’ 같은 진보진영의 화두를 고스란히 가져가 자기 언어로 흡수해버렸다. 진보진영은 그저 바라보기만 할 뿐, 속수무책이었다.

진보진영의 선동가와 계몽주의자들은 스스로 판 무덤 속에 기어들어갔다. 여기서 탈출하고 싶다면 보다 전략적이고 체계적인 연구가 필요하다. 대중에게 꾸준히 진실을 알리고 보수진영의 부조리를 밝힘으로써 마침내 상식이 통하게 될 것이라 낙관하는 자세는 금물이다. 그 진실은 진보진영에게만 들리는 진실이다. 사람들은 자신이 갖고 있는 틀에 의해 판단한다. 이 틀은 그들의 세계관이고 가치관이다. 이 가치관은 주머니 사정과 별개로 작동한다. 상식을 운운하면 반감만 산다. 보수진영의 움직임에 일일이 대응하는 방식으로 무게중심을 가져가다간 결코 집권할 수 없다. 대중이 어떻게 진보의 언어에 관심을 기울일 것인지 연구해야 한다. 그런 관심 안에서 진보의 가치관과 인식의 틀이 보수의 그것 못지않은 안정적 이미지를 가질 수 있도록 만들어야 한다. 진보진영이 입에 문 언어들이 닮고 싶고 갖고 싶고 추구하고 싶은 것으로 만들어야 한다. 여기에는 다소간의 패션화 전략도 필요하다. 진보의 언어를 개발해야 한다. 그렇게 하지 않는 한, 한국의 진보진영에 미래는 없다.

gq, 허지웅