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World of the News

~ For the universal in today's top stories

Tag Archives: Obama

#69 Ascending and Descending

January 17, 2016

There was a great artist from Brixton
Whose son said he’d lately passed on.
He left us his work
The rest is just pork
And death shall have no dominion.

Along with handshakes at the podium, where in the time of Camelot there was theshooting of cuffs (thin white stripes and matching handkerchief), now the teeniest hintof a hip-swivelling pose – itsy-bitsy echo of a lad insane.

On Tuesday 12 January 2016 in his last-ever State of the Union address, as now he enters the final round of his second term of office, the President presents himself as Lazarus, called back from the twilight zone for all those Young Americans who need him still; to sugar the pill.

That’s too bitter. Politics in pursuit of the best we can be, promises he. And innovation and global leadership without having to be the world’s policeman. As if.

Yet here there’s also truth of sorts, and meaning – many meanings. Abundant as angels’ heads on pins. Hope enough for all ye who enter here.

Let’s dance, sings the President prancing with democracy, voguing the Enlightenment. But to the essential issue in modern politics – labour, POTUS is as Wall Street derivatives are to the substance of value.

By 9.00 GMT on Saturday 16 January his White House performance video had been viewed less than 60,000 times, while David Bowie’s deathbed selfie topped 21 million.

Men who fell to earth include Carlito Vale (d. 2015) and Jose Matada (d. 2012). Stowaways in the wheel bays of aeroplanes bound for Heathrow, they dropped throughthe sky as the undercarriage opened above South West London. Photos of Vale at home in Mozambique show he had bought a London T-shirt: he came in search of thereal thing. Another man who stowed away with him, managed to survive. These three African men appear here as the footnotes to which they have been consigned. read more

#40 The President Un-Masked

November 18, 2014

On the top floor of the White House, a darkened room and a hidden painting – ThePicture of President Dorian.

How else to explain the Gray hair and his head otherwise unchanged?

Still smooth as caramel, iced coffee cool; and blue black lips plump as berries.

Those lines a little deeper only sculpt his features more. The something in the way he moves, remains unmoved; years in high office have left no tangible impression.

Yet the stock question – what lies behind the mask? – is not the one to ask.

Whichever way we do things now, it’s not true to the old pattern.

Myth versus reality, realpolitik opposed to airbrushed image – how Quark theexpression, how quaint.

Not even a conspiracy, Obama was ever the icon. As a mascot he will always remain unblemished; there never was another man behind the mask.

#15 Welcome To WorldVision!

May 11, 2014

Barack Obama became a drag queen yesterday in a new effort to secure the 2014 WorldVision title.

The United States president appeared as ‘Michelle’ in a heart-felt performance of #Bring Back Our Girls prompted by the abduction of more than 200 female students from a boarding school in north-east Nigeria.

Produced by the White House (rumours that Apple Inc is poised to take over the visionary production company, are completely unfounded), the ‘first lady’ sampled Malala, the award winning women’s education campaigner who first came to public attention when she was shot in the head by the Taliban – and survived. Michelle/Obama also re-worked some of the best known themes in American culture, e.g. realising your full potential in the land of equal opportunities, giving these a new twist – pro-women’s education, anti-terrorism – in response to the kidnappings and bombings carried out by militant Islamist band, Boko Haram (rough translation: ‘Western education is forbidden’). White House Productions are thought to have launched Michelle as Barack Obama’s alter ego, in order to re-assert themselves at the top of the WorldVision rankings after their Ukrainian foreign policy number failed to chart successfully. There have been complaints that the Whites imposed their traditional House style on a supposedly new performer (the word ‘unconscionable’ jarred with the otherwise conversational tone of Michelle’s lyrics); nonetheless the Washington version of #Bring Back Our Girls has met with widespread approval. Wearing a powder blue top and sitting atop an antique chair with the Stars and Stripes in the background, Michelle put in a deliberately understated performance – in contrast to the Shirley Bassey-style torch song which last night won the Eurovision Song Contest for Austria’s ‘bearded lady’ Conchita Wurst (real name Tom Neuwirth). Michelle’s #Bring Back Our Girls was restrained even by her own standards: she previously gave an energetic performance of Let’s Move, an anti-obesity campaign which served as her White House white label in advance of yesterday’s official WorldVision release. In Africa earlier this week, from far up country where Nigeria’s oil wealth does not run to (northern Nigeria is now poorer than it was 50 years ago), the leader of Boko Haram (or perhaps a stand-in) released an hour long video of riffs and raps about selling thekidnapped girls into slavery.  (The heirs of Ronald Reagan would no doubt disown his take on the vintage 1980s chorus, let the market decide.) As a band, Boko Haram is so far removed from the international performance circuit it will do anything to gain precious nanoseconds in the global attention economy. Insteadof the pantomime leer of ‘a brown eyed handsome man’ singing ‘Good Morning, Little Schoolgirl’, or the mythical depiction of the Rape of the Sabine Women, this group is actually acting out everyone’s worst nightmares. Not only piling on the hyperbole but also doing rhetoric for real. (Imagine Lee Harvey Oswald, Sirhan Sirhan and The Dead Kennedys all rolled into one). Members of Boko Haram such as the gangly youth photographed in custody wearing an Arsenal football top, are acting out of desperation. As if their lives depended on it; not least because the West has created a media-centric way of life which does indeed depend on being uploaded, becoming part of the performance circuit, not being left to rot in the dark, dank dungeon of the invisible, the unheard of, the non-existent. Being in the medium by any means necessary – that is the message of the current Western WorldVision as rendered by everyone who is anyone, from Lady Gaga to Michelle/Obama and even Conchita Wurst (Tom Neurwith currently enjoying his best 15 minutes). The appalling irony is that heartless Boko Haram has already taken this message to heart.

#11 The Magician’s Moustache

April 18, 2014

David Axelrod’s moustache is much the same as old-style Peter Mandelson’s, as worn by ‘Mandy’ in the pre-New Labour days when he was trying and failing to turn Neil Kinnock into the stuff of legend.

Axelrod, the communications strategist who helped Barack Obama win two US presidential elections, has just signed a consultancy contract with current UK Labour leader Ed Miliband – a boyish figure who hardly seems old enough to grow a moustache.

Mandelson, you may recall, was Tony Blair’s secret weapon in his successful bid for the Labour leadership in 1994, when Mandy disguised himself by shaving off his moustache and going by the name ‘Bobby’. Re-re-named ‘the Prince of Darkness’, he led New Labour’s team of spin doctors in the run-up to the 1997 general election landslide in which he himself was elected MP for Hartlepool; he went on to be a controversial cabinet minister and European commissioner. Although Axelrod is the man most closely associated with Obama’s successive election victories, even his moustache bristles with the stuff that sloughs off successful candidates. In Blair and especially in Obama, the electorate saw and identified with an ethereal quality which both connects with the world and leaves worldliness behind. Exactly the kind of contradictory magic which a moustache is made to dispel; as Marcel Duchamp must have known when he drew one on the Mona Lisa. Not the Mother of God, but (damaged) God himself: in post-ideological politics, the electorate consecrates its favoured candidate, who is both put on a pedestal and prepared for crucifixion later. The reason for this mysticism is straightforward: without a meaningful battle of substantial ideas, there is no other way for politics to rise above horse trading. The real mystery is the role of men with moustaches. How do they fit in to a quasi-religious experience? Perhaps part of their achievement is to keep all incoming out ofthe way, so that nothing need impede the moment of transcendence which is variously described as Hope, Change or Social Justice. Acting as feet of clay they also drain their candidate of responsibility, leaving him gravity-free to exist as proto-holy spirit. Without his man of the moustache, Obama could never have seemed so clean shaven; would not have been deemed acceptable to so many white voters. Will Axelrod now enable Miliband to become equally magical – who knows?

Obama Care

December 31, 2013

Henry Fonda with close cropped hair and purple lips.
There is an Open Face in the Oval Office.
The rate of incoming is daunting. So many client-citizens here to see the patron-president.
All eyes on the prize…….real time, face-to-face facetime with the president himself.
Buoyed by the Office and its extensive trimmings, he manages to stay Open. Ready for visitors and ready to be seen receiving visitors at the Resolution Desk.
But it’s hard to believe that his second term only Opened earlier this year. Aside from numerous theatrical performances (the theatre of National Security, the theatre of Poor America, the theatre of International Delegations), he is already starting to seem like a spent force.
And who will care for Obama, open face and all, if he can’t get any Closure?

The Rhythm Is The Message

August 31, 2013


He got rhythm.

Seated at the conference table, flanked by guy-in-a-bow-tie (hey, buddy, the sign says ‘White House’, not ‘Barber Shop’) and baby-faced-woman with Lady-Exec hairstyle, the President is a picture of panache: Barack Obama, who doesn’t have to try….too hard.

Apparently effortlessly, he is establishing the likelihood of American air strikes against the Assad regime. Of course there are cracks to be covered, not least the anomaly of stopping to explain the effectiveness of imminent military action. Which can only have the effect of making it less than imminent, thereby reducing its effectiveness. But the way he speaks effectively conceals such flaws.

This presentation is a sit-down, low-key affair; cadences are reduced accordingly. The rhythm’s the thing. It is audible throughout the President’s remarks. We can hear it, for example, in his enunciation of the following four words:

‘The kind of attack’.

Here they are broken down to show the underlying rhythm:

The Kind-of-a Ttack. Daa da-di-da daa.

In 4/4 time, beginning on the fourth beat of the bar: Crotchet, Triplet, Crotchet, Rest.

Again: The (Crotchet)/ Kind-of-A (Triplet)/ Ttack (Crotchet)/ Rest (Crotchet).

Thus Obama’s phrase ‘the kind of attack’ is couched in rhythmic form. His words acquire their sonority from the rhythm in which they are couched. If certain phrases resonate with the public, it is because they are formulated as rhythm; because they are composed of rhythm between words as much as the words themselves.

It so happens that the phrase used above to describe Obama’s way of speaking, is similarly comprised of the exact same rhythm: ‘the rhythm’s the thing’; Daa da-di-da daa.

Exactly.

But the thing about rhythm is its combination of exactitude and variation. Obama’s speech pattern is four beats to the bar. Precisely. But it also sounds something like but not quite the same as the speech of previous Rhythm Kings such as Martin Luther Jnr. Who patterned the democratic aspirations of the day, who formulated the degrading experience of many into one uplifting note, so that Obama could echo that sound and evoke its democratic content 50 years later. read more

Daddy’s second term

November 10, 2012

They came on stage together: Barack, Michelle and the two girls (look how they’ve grown). For a couple of minutes all four of them basked in the applause of the crowd. The children touching their father now and again: hand, arm, shoulder. Partly passing on to him the goodwill of the American people: this is for you, Father. Partly to claim ownership: let the People know this is my Daddy. The President, also and for the last time President-Elect (second time round the same, cropped hairstyle seems less black, now it’s shaded grey), knew exactly when his wife and children should leave the stage: having lingered long enough not to appear curt or arrogant; appreciating the adulation without milking it. Only George Burns’ timing was ever better. Now the slight touches came from him to them: fleeting hugs and they’re away, back to the Presidential apartments in the White House; no need to pack away childish things any time soon. Barack had signalled for his family to leave the stage without hesitation or any sign of a second thought. His parting gestures were affectionate but brisk, unconcerned. However, as he turned to speak to the crowd in front of him, and behind them the millions watching on TV, his face froze for a moment. In that moment, it looked as if he was having to hold his mouth in place between his chin and his cheeks. Preventing the lower half of his head from collapsing into a Fright Night fantasy, but only by an act of will. Four more years in the public gaze stretched out in front of Barack Obama like the life of Dorian Gray. So many half-truths and not-quite betrayals: don’t they amount to their own kind of debauchery? But then he composed himself, broke into a rueful smile (behold the private man for public consumption), and began his second term.

Move Along, Please

September 11, 2012

The late summer had been due to turn autumnal, but London was allowed one more day (Monday 10th September 2012) solely to bask in the success of the Games. A Victory Parade (Mansion House to the Mall), crowds along the route, thick as cream (‘many thousands’ – nobody even tried to count ‘em), and 800 gleeful Olympians and Paralympians floating above their shouts and cheers. The whole affair as bumptious and good-natured as Boris Johnson addressing the athletes: ‘you produced such paroxysms of tears and joy on the sofas of Britain that you probably not only inspired a generation, but helped to create one as well’. The entire city as bright and playful as BoJo’s hair. Yet already something wistful in the air. This was the last moment of spontaneous unity; the only proper repeat of the unrepeatable. All the rest is propaganda. Sponsored re-runs will turn the winning Games into a series of also-rans, if we let them; unless we resist the eye-candy of endlessly repeated highlights. Better to let this moment go, and perhaps one day we will be surprised to come across it again, unexpectedly evoked in a new moment, each of them enriched by association. What’s yet to come will be all the more splendid, if in the meantime we have not over-used the colour of memory.

E Pluribus Unum

September 7, 2012

Still cool as iced-coffee, even now he could have walked in off the set of Mad Men; though he tells us these are different times and he himself is different, having sent young men to die in battle, having held their bereaved parents in his arms. Seeking a second term, Barack Obama is still doing it right. It’s a performance, yes (nomination acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention, Charlotte, North Carolina, September 2012); but that does not mean it’s false. When Obama reports that falling to his knees was the only correct posture for a man laid low by the responsibilities of office, his humility rings true. When he addresses ‘America’, above all when he calls out to the only person with the power to maintain hope and refrain from cynicism – ‘you’, the timing is perfect. So what if it’s rehearsed? Is the Catholic mass fraudulent because it’s been practised before? Bonded to the people in the hall – expectant, ecstatic, Obama becomes their celebrant. They are transfixed by him as he is transfigured into all of them together. Standing in for the best of each; standing tall as the best of all. Holy Father Obama, your communion wells up out of the convention centre and washes over every TV viewer.

The Man With No Name vs Invisible Obama

August 31, 2012

If you were alone in a lift with POTUS, what would you ask him? At the Republican National Convention, Clint Eastwood came on stage to play a version of this game. Except that the Hollywood star formerly known as The Man With No Name (TMWNW, Spaghetti Westerns) didn’t actually ask a question of ‘invisible Obama’ (headline, Reuters). He said he was going to, then turned the phrase round to challenge the president’s record on unemployment. Referring to ‘the 23 million unemployed in this country’, the actor-director sounded short of breath. Was he choked by barely suppressed anger and sorrow, or just acting? Either way, in his cameo role he called into question the high level of emotion surrounding Obama’s election (‘Oprah was crying, even I was crying’), compared to the low grade attention doled out to the unemployed. Clint Eastwood is an old man now but he did not appear out of date. The eyes are set back further, weakening his famously unstinting gaze; his hair is un-seriously wispy and the perfect nose is just too damned perfect. But there’s still the grain of his voice and that fascinatingly implacable face – long and hard as the faces of Easter Island. When the camera panned round, however, to the RNC delegates applauding him, boy, were we thrown back in time? On the money, of the moment, yet TMWNW was addressing the past.

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