Obama, The Singaporean Dream and Beyond

 

 

I am a big fan of Obama. So big that since I don’t own a TV – I made my way down to Astroboy’s home last night to catch the swearing in ceremony; even braved through his rotweillers; piranha’s in the moat along with helping him move some furniture since everyone is in his home seems to be either in a wheelchair or bed ridden; not that I am complaining.

 

When it finally came, somewhat later than scheduled – Obama was riveting; he was everything, I expected perfect right down to the tee – you know what? I actually routed for him.

 

I guess one reason for my over inflated faith in Obama has a large part to do with having to bear nearly ten shambolic years of Bush administration. I mean you would have thought that after 2,000 years of social evolution; humanity might have learnt something about the perils of taking advice from a bush, let alone nominate one to the most powerful office on this planet – I am reminded, the last time someone had a conversation with a Bush they ended up strolling out of Egypt and wandering like blind mice in the desert for nearly 40 years!

 

One reason why Obama is such an iconic figure of hope for not only Americans, but so many people around the world including the lesser mortals based in Singapore; is he’s like a blank slate – a tabula rasa – where many of us can project our embittered shattered dreams on how the world still has a very long way to go before we can truly claim to be a success as a species – I am not just talking about the scouring effects of a decade of shoot-myself-in-the-foot Republican domestic and foreign policies which has left the world more divided that ever before – or even the financial crisis that has scissored through so many lives – if I had to pin it down; it would probably be a something so fuzzy and ephemeral like a fleeting thought – a pathos – a malaise – an inexplicable feeling in the way a farmer watches the passing of a season - it’s hard to describe; impossible to even pin down.

 

I guess most us by the time we tuned in to Obama last night had all but reached a point when the road had run out; I mean lets face it, no one can top Bush as the worst president in world history; anyone is better than him – no one can beat Bush when it comes to fucking up people and planet.

 

Obama, I am reminded offers the promise of the great hope against the harsh cut light of our times. For one he stands in stark contrast from Bush; he’s articulate; well read and seriously intelligent. I will spare you all the foisting of the flag; the I have a dream litany; the I’ve come full circle as a blackman story; right down the ticker street of the glowing reviews of how Obama can be none other than the transformers sent to save us all from the evil decepticons -  only because that narrative is plastered all across blogosphere and you really don’t need to get another earful from me; besides how great a man Obama is or is not; is not the message in this essay.

 

My point is as much as I want to believe Obama offers real hope as the figure who may bring about the changes we desperately need – I first need to deal with terminal skepticism and pessimism.

 

I realized this last night somewhere between munching on artery clogging bak kuah that Astroboy’s mummy offered me and feeling that dissonance from well up in me as it detached me from the cheering crowd.

 

 

 

My gripe about Obama isn’t really about Obama as much as it revolves around statistical insignificant me – Yes, I’ve been down this road before.

 

You all know what road I am talking about don’t you? The road of hope that leads to shattered dreams – that path where you once invested so much of your hopes and dreams that every step you take seems like a helium filled uplift when you even believe you have wings and all you really need to do is spread them and off you go – first the reassuring forward glide – then followed rapidly by the swan dive and the earth screaming before you as the dream comes crashing down with a thud.

 

We’ve all experienced it before; that all too familiar sinking feeling of being let down - in growing up, at work with friends and love ones. So don’t read this with that all too familiar mixture of distance and I’ve-never-had- to –see –my –hopes- run-out –before. You have. And when it happens, all of us just turn inwards ever so slightly; something shrivels up and dies in us. We all become jaded and dismissive whenever something good comes our way again. We hold back, distance ourselves and in some cases even pour cold water over it – I wouldn’t call it apathy or pessimism; that’s just part and parcel of the human condition: no one likes to be taken for a ride – no one wants to be let down – is it such a wonder, we hedge our bets?

 

I know its tough these days to believe in anything timeless and enduring anymore - seems to have lost its meaning – we have all been through a lot this last year alone. The financial crisis has redefined our outlook in so many different ways; its hard to see anything these days without coloring it with doubt; impossible even to take anything at face value – it seems almost obligatory that we should at least go through the motions of not appearing naïve and gullible.

 

But what happens when we all reach a point when we can no longer see beyond the field of possibilities? What really happens when instead of seeking out the good and trusting our hopes; we end up trusting our fears, expecting bad to appear at every corner and turn?

 

Here I am reminded skepticism, pessimism or even the fear to trust that good things can happen (for lack of a better word) can never be taken too philosophically.

 

Neither should fear per se be looked upon as a character flaw. I tell myself as an extreme sportsman and businessman, if we don’t fear, it only means our eyes have not been opened yet and it’s just another form of death like bind bravado or throwing caution to the wind. Fear is something natural and it should never be denied an outlet. The more humane we become, the more likely we are to suffer the dread of being let down and seeing our dreams smashed against the reef. To live, breathe, think, trust, hope and love simply means we’re continuously reconciling ourselves with vulnerability, rejection and pain – it matters little whether it’s finding that happy middle ground in relationships, ambitions or even being able to figure out synch your ipod with your computer – we all like Emerson said, “hope that our hopes wouldn’t let us down.”

 

We are not old leather, made softer, more comfortable with usage– one can only grow by overcoming our fears and overreaching to that place where everything comes together – I am sorry, LKY was wrong, it can’t be had on the cheap with a few pieces of gold and trinkets – he doesn’t know what he’s talking about –  an admirable sentiment it may very well be. But ants can’t overreach no man’s land to that place where our hopes can take flight. As humans, we can.

 

Yesterday as I sat there glued to the telly listening to Obama as he shared his message of hope to the whole wide world – you have no idea how alone I felt; how marooned I was in my own skull amid the sea of humanity – above all you have no idea how much I wanted to be part it instead of being apart.

 

Really, I do…

 

 

I want to believe.

 

Darkness 2009

 

(The Brotherhood Press 2009)