The Water's Edge is a monthly column examining the intersection of domestic and foreign policies, with a special focus on the 2008 presidential election.
January 24, 2008
The presidential election year has formally (and finally) arrived, bringing with it the first actual votes that will determine the winner. So far, the field of candidates has been winnowed, but the ultimate outcome of the Democratic and Republican nominating contests remains uncertain. One thing, however, is certain. This is the most open presidential contest since 1952, with no incumbent president or vice president competing for either party's nomination. Without the advantage or disadvantage of incumbency, the contest is far more susceptible to other forces that are intrinsic to U.S. politics. This year, one such force appears to be identity. Although its ultimate effects may be unclear, identity politics already are shaping the presidential race in unprecedented ways. But its impact will be felt beyond the polls, pundits, and prognosticators. The unique identity of the next president could have a significant effect on U.S. foreign policy.
"Identity" itself is a contested notion, both in terms of what the word actually means and in terms of how it's used. Placing it explicitly in a political context only complicates things further. But in the narrowest political terms, identity is a recognizable, inherent, and unchangeable quality of a candidate that is independent of qualification, merit, or experience. The Republican field of candidates spans a breadth of backgrounds, from governmental experience (including current and former governors, senators, and representatives), to prior occupations (including a former minister, a combat pilot, and a businessman), to religion (including a Mormon, a Roman Catholic, and several Baptists). To be sure, the unique backgrounds of each candidate would have an effect on how they govern and how they would be perceived in the United States and abroad. But all of the Republican contenders are white men, and identity politics has not affected their nominating contest any more so than usual.
The situation is very different in the Democratic field. Not only is one candidate a women and one an African-American, but together, Senators Hillary Clinton (D-NY) and Barack Obama (D-IL) represent the leading contenders for their party's nomination. In the wake of Clinton's narrow victories over Obama in the New Hampshire primary and the Nevada caucuses, some uncomfortable questions were raised: Do whites tell pollsters they support Obama but privately change their vote based on his race? Do Latinos overtly oppose Obama for the same reason? Do women vote for Clinton under the sympathetic impression that her male competitors and members of the media attack her too harshly?
It's difficult to conclusively prove or disprove any of these suggestions, but it is clear that in the wake of Clinton's successes, identity-related issues were discussed (and dissected) much more openly. Clinton commented ambiguously on the relative roles of Martin Luther King Jr. and Lyndon Johnson in the civil rights movement, while her surrogates used coded language and made veiled references to Obama's admitted drug use decades ago. Obama's surrogates, in turn, specifically accused the Clinton campaign of injecting race into the election in a harmful and offensive way.
This was undeniably an ugly turn in the campaign. Despite pledges from Clinton and Obama to tone down the rhetoric, racial and gender identity will remain contentious and unresolved issues in U.S. domestic politics for many years to come. But the role of identity is also important on the international stage, especially in the context of the presidential race. To be sure, the issues surrounding identity are more symbolic than substantive. While important foreign policy differences do exist between Clinton and Obama, they are not based on her gender or on his race -- each candidate's broad policy objectives are similar, both in substance and in opposition to those likely to be held by the eventual Republican nominee.
But symbolism often can be quite substantive. Somewhat uniquely among world powers, the U.S. president is both a head of state and a head of government. He (or she) represents not just the government in power at a given time, but also the United States as a sovereign state. Compared to the United Kingdom, for example, the U.S. president plays the roles of both queen and prime minister. In such a situation, symbolism and substance can overlap in myriad ways, and this can have a real and unforeseen policy impact.
Both Clinton and Obama would break powerful symbolic barriers, both would exemplify the better ideals of "American exceptionalism" and both would send a positive message abroad. But for Obama, the effect would be somewhat different, and arguably more concrete. Obama's unique identity is not based on race alone. His father was Kenyan (and he still has family there), he spent a significant portion of his childhood in Indonesia, and he was raised in multi-ethnic Hawaii. This allows Obama to plausibly stake claim to a greater sense of empathy with non-Americans, their interests, and their perceptions of the United States. In other words, Obama's unique identity is qualitatively and substantively distinct from (though not necessarily "better" than) Clinton's unique identity. Based on identity alone, both Clinton and Obama would make a strong symbolic statement as president. But Obama's identity might arguably carry greater symbolic weight abroad, and it could even be of important substantive value.
The true substantive value of a candidate's unique identity, however, is difficult to measure -- identity exists, by definition, independent of merit. For this reason alone, it is tempting to dismiss identity politics as provincial, illogical, or downright counterproductive. But this is a limited interpretation. In a sense, identity politics is democracy boiled down to its most basic. Beneath all of the slogans and rhetoric, the policy papers and resumes, the endorsements and campaign cash, only the candidate's irreducible identity remains constant. Such identity is immediately recognizable and requires no filter or interpretation. Voters support the candidate who looks, sounds, or acts like them, in the expectation that their support will be repaid once the candidate wins.
If not outright bad, this kind of identity politics is certainly primordial in nature. Strict identity politics is the norm in many tenuous democracies around the world. Political parties are often based not on ideology or principle but on tribe or ethnic group. People vote for "their guy," and national politics frequently devolves into a contemporary extension of age-old, identity-based power struggles. Political systems intended to mitigate the excesses of identity politics (such as proportional representation) or detangle the role of head of state from head of government (such as parliamentary government) sometimes even make the problems worse.
In an odd coincidence of old and new, identity politics abroad recently intersected with its U.S. cousin. In Kenya's December elections, international observers witnessed tens of thousands of ballots altered in favor of incumbent President Mwai Kibaki (a member of the Kikuyu tribe). Despite the clear irregularities, Kibaki had himself sworn in as president literally minutes after the polls closed. Supporters and co-tribalists of Kibaki's main opponent, Raila Odinga (a member of the Luo tribe), rioted violently in protest of the rigged election, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of Kikuyu. After years of Kikuyu-led government, many minority Luo felt it was "their turn" to lead.
Amidst the post-election violence and uncertainty, U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice asked Obama -- then campaigning in Iowa -- to tape a message for the Kenyan people for broadcast on Voice of America. "Now is a time for President Kibaki, opposition leader Odinga, and all of Kenya's leaders to call for calm, to come together, and to start a political process to address peacefully the controversies that divide them," said Obama, whose Kenyan father was a Luo. Instability, however, persists. Evidently, many Luo joke that the United States will have a Luo president before Kenya does.
Thankfully, identity politics in the U.S. presidential campaign has not devolved to similar levels of tribalism and excess -- yet. Although the United States does not possess the tribal complexities of Kenya, it does contain political "tribes" of its own. Clinton, of course, is the spouse of former president Bill Clinton. Although she was not born into her political "tribe," she is an integral component of an immensely successful and highly organized political family, with all the loyalties, rivalries, and habits common to every tribe, ethnic or otherwise. If she wins the Democratic nomination and then the presidency, she will become the reigning member of a legitimate political dynasty.
In a country ever-conscious of identity, and in a presidential race steeped in its barrier-breaking potential, Clinton's identity as a dynastic heir is just as unique and relevant as her identity as a women, or Obama's as an African-American. Indeed, identity is at once both permanent and malleable. Politicians always strive to create favorable identities in order to assemble winning coalitions of voters. But to a certain degree, they can never escape or reframe who they truly are. In the end, it is up to voters to make the final assessment.
Daniel Widome is a San Francisco-based writer and foreign policy analyst. He can be reached at Daniel.Widome@gmail.com