In brief, this essay uses President Obama's strategically hidden teleprompters as a metaphor for critiquing the overall operations of the US government--e.g., regardless of who occupies the White house, certain systemic constraints will remain in place and operate in the service of power. Most US citizens un/consciously ignore these hidden operations so that they can participate in the excitement and elation of "Obamania."

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I first noticed it back in April, during the G-20 meetings in Europe. Obama was his usual charming, articulate, presidential self. That's nothing new; he's a public relations dream come true. But during one of his speeches, his eye and head movements were out of sync. His eyes would remain fixed in one location while his head would move onto another location, with the eyes catching up a second or two later. This delay created a dissonance within in Obama's delivery. Something wasn't right; he was off kilter. That's when it struck me; he's reading from teleprompters. This would not have been a big deal if I could actually see the teleprompters. But the more I looked, the more I could not find them. I actually began second guessing myself. Is he really reading his speech? If so, then where in the world are the teleprompters? If he's not reading, why are his eyes and head out of sync? My obsession with this kind of detail may seem strange, but I am a professor of Public Communication, having taught numerous courses in public speaking, rhetoric, persuasion, analysis, and so on. I am trained to see and for the most part obsess over such details.

My partner of ten years happened to walk into the room during my observation. She, too, is experienced in the field of communication, having earned a masters degree in Speech Communication with an emphasis in performance and theater. Upon asking for her input, she said that Obama is definitely not reading from teleprompters. “There's nothing there,” she said. “The cameras are showing full frontal positions, side positions, close ups and long shots. There's no teleprompter. It would be impossible to hide.” “But look at his eyes,” I responded. “Something's not right.” Then all of a sudden I saw it—two teleprompters strategically placed to conceal their presence. “Ha! I saw it! There it is!” My partner, not seeing the evidence, started to question my observation. But as time passed and with me literally walking up to and emphatically pointing to the television, she acknowledged that the gig is up—Obama is reading from teleprompters.

This story points to something much more important than a friendly debate between two partners: Obama's use of hidden teleprompters symbolizes the deep-rooted and wide-ranging systemic constraints that prohibit profound and progressive social change. Even an individual as gifted as Obama cannot overcome the constraints of the modern day American presidency. There's no way that he can personally write, rehearse, craft, and memorize every speech. Too many other pressing demands consume his time and energy. These wider constraints thus prohibit Obama from exercising his full potential. Obama's teleprompted oration is of course symbolic of the entire Obama presidency: His calls for progressivism are quarantined by the system in which he operates.

I hope that I am wrong. More affordable healthcare, better education, green technologies and new forms of energy improve our living conditions. And the restoration of civil liberties, the outlawing of torture, and the curbing of the exaggerated “war on terrorism” can repair some of the damage caused by the Bush administration. But let's face the facts. These policies are not all that progressive. Most industrialized, democratic nations have been pursuing such items for years, even decades. A truly progressive (let alone radical) agenda would build upon and advance—rather than catch up to—these policies. And let's not forget about the escalation of war in Afghanistan, the upward distribution of wealth created by the bailouts, the timid support for same-sex marriage, and the very weak healthcare proposal. I am not saying that Obama is a horrible president. I voted for him, and I am glad that he rather than McCain is running the show. But we must maintain perspective.

Obama is a one and at most a two term president. He is enveloped within a long tradition of elitism, corruption, partisanship, top down government, the exclusion rather than inclusion of everyday citizens, and of course imperialism and empire. These problems and oppressions both precede and exceed his time in office. Obama does demonstrate potential to follow in the best rather than the worst of presidential traditions. But even the best of these traditions isn't all that great, and that's the point. What will Republicans—as well as many Democrats—allow him to do? What will lobbyists and war profiteers allow him to do? What about the military-industrial and prison-industrial complexes? What about capitalism itself? The list goes on and on. The United States of America is a super power built upon greed and self-preservation. Obama's capabilities for accomplishing truly meaningful, deep-seated, long-lasting change within this system are fairly low. Too many influential voices speak to and through the presidency and those voices want to maintain rather than change the power dynamics of this country.

Many people will acknowledge the legitimacy of my assessment. But many people also quietly and conveniently ignore the wider ills of American power. That's because people want to see Obama as a heroic figure. They want to believe that a single person is capable of righting the wrongs of the past and steering this country toward the Promised Land. This wishful thinking is influenced America's David-versus-Goliath stories. Religious scriptures, folklore, novels, Hollywood movies, television shows, video games, comic books, fairy tales, and even low budget commercials are based on heroism. We are predisposed toward the heroic narrative.

Obama's own brand of heroism is created by coupling two contrasting storylines. On the one hand, Obama is cast as the average Joe. He jokes, laughs, and smiles. He's always relaxed and laid-back. He likes basketball, eats hot dogs, enjoys an occasional cigarette, and is willing to appear on the Jay Leno Show. He comes from a mixed-race, broken home, has dabbled in the usual college indiscretions (drugs), and dedicated his younger years to helping Southside Chicagoans. He's one of us; regular people. But on the other hand, he is cast as a transcendent, almost untouchable figure. He's a well-groomed, eloquent Ivy League educated lawyer. He succeeded as an Illinois Senator. He is the successor of a long and brutal civil rights struggle. He is the first Black president. He is the living embodiment of the rags to riches American mythology and the twenty-first century version of JFK. He's our presidential savior.

This Joe/savior coupling allows us to simultaneously identify with but also distance ourselves from Barack Obama. Our identification with Obama allows us to see the world through his eyes. We can envision ourselves saying what he says and doing what he does. We can see ourselves walking in his shoes because, in many ways, they are the same shoes that we wear. We can see ourselves being Obama because he is one of us—an average American. This produces a jolt of existential excitement and political joy. Yes We Can!

But our distance from Obama reminds us that we are not and can never be Obama. We thus have the inverse of the previous slogan. No We Cannot! We cannot say what he says, at least not in the way that he says it, and we cannot do what he does because we are not “the president.” This produces existential melancholy and political disappointment.

Obama is thus a savior and a captor. He will save us from all the wrongs of the past. But only he can save us; we cannot save ourselves. We are thus psychologically dependent upon Obama, which makes him our captor. We have no choice—we must invest ourselves in Obama in the hope that he will relieve our melancholy and disappointment. But we recognize at some subconscious level that this is not possible; he's human like the rest of us and he's just a politician. This produces anger, resentment, and confusion. We could release such negative feelings by revolting against Obama—kicking him and perhaps everyone else out of office and creating some serious change. But we have internalized the idea that the present form of government is the best that we can do; that chaos and “all against all” would ensue without it. If that's true, then we might as well go with the lesser of evils, which is Obama.

Such psycho-political torment is eased by the Obama brand promise of a guilt-free America. Consuming the Obama brand relieves us of historically horrid race relations, of complying with the Bush atrocities, of ruining the natural environment, of ignoring the health needs of our fellow citizens, of invading and occupying not one but two countries, of perpetuating gross economic inequality (home and abroad), and of accepting and even liking our imperial arrogance. Everything is alright, everything is okay, everything is cool and clean with the new Obama Brand. Consume and relinquish" the choice of a new American millennium.

“Obamania” is due in part to Obama's campaign rhetoric, which successfully employed the tactic of “strategic ambiguity.” Strategic ambiguity speaks in abstractions and avoids specifics. This allows the audience to unconsciously see themselves in the speaker's words. People think Obama is describing their specific wants and desires when in fact they are projecting themselves onto Obama. Here's an example from his DNC speech:

This country of ours has more wealth than any nation, but that's not what makes us rich. We have the most powerful military on Earth, but that's not what makes us strong. Our universities and our culture are the envy of the world, but that's not what keeps the world coming to our shores.

Instead, it is that American spirit—that American promise—that pushes us forward even when the path is uncertain; that binds us together in spite of our differences; that makes us fix our eye not on what is seen, but what is unseen, that better place around the bend.

That promise is our greatest inheritance. It's a promise I make to my daughters when I tuck them in at night, and a promise that you make to yours—a promise that has led immigrants to cross oceans and pioneers to travel west; a promise that led workers to picket lines, and women to reach for the ballot.

What the hell is he talking about? It's never clearly defined in the speech, thus allowing us to project our own dreams and fantasies into this “great American promise that binds us together as we walk into a better future.” Such rhetoric acts like a mirror, simultaneously reflecting voters' inner hopes of something better and deflecting the wider truths of past and present ills. Such strategic ambiguity, combined with the Joe/savior narratives, reveals Obama's symbolic significance as hero-therapist: he makes us feel better about ourselves.

A similar situation occurred in the wake of September 11^th. People wanted to believe that George W. Bush would save us from the evil doers. People wanted to believe that we were attacked because “they hate our freedom.” People wanted to believe that our infinitely reaching and endlessly enduring war against terrorism was guided by a Judeo-Christian God. People wanted to believe that an over-privileged, underachieving, inarticulate man was our twenty-first century hero. Bush and Obama are not the same, and I do not foresee the lies and catastrophes of the former occurring under the rule of the latter. But our society's longing for heroism blinds us to the hidden hands of American power. That power actually provokes and encourages such ignorance.

Obama's hidden teleprompters exemplify systemically produced ignorance. The “presidency” does not want viewers to see and acknowledge those teleprompters. This is not new. Every modern day administration seeks to hide such scripting of presidential presentation. In fact, every good speaker seeks to “hide” the rehearsal process and present only a well-crafted, final product. Such slight-of-hand is the basis of every good speech. In this sense, public speaking is akin to theatrical performance where actors, directors, set, costume, and light designers rehearse endlessly until opening night. Then presto! The magic happens and audiences are awed by the flawlessness of word and deed. This suspension of belief produces a wonderful theatrical experience that I have personally enjoyed as both audience and performer, but it's awfully dangerous when applied to presidential politics.

All governments are institutions of power. Governments coordinate, extract, and distribute labor, knowledge, wealth, policy, and when it comes down to it, life and death. Think about it. Governments can affect infant mortality rates, prevent or ignore treatable diseases, administer or withhold welfare money and food stamps, distribute wealth upwards or downwards, release or incarcerate people, expand or contract prison systems, execute or pardon people, initiate or avoid war, combat or contribute to global warming, etc. That's power. Suspending our belief and allowing ourselves to be awed by the craft of presidential discourse masks this operation of power. We are then lulled into a false sense of security and accept the veneer of the presentation without critically analyzing the construction, purpose, and implications of that presentation. We may then assume, for instance, that Barack Obama is some type of super-human capable of writing, rehearsing, and memorizing speeches while also flying, meeting, calling, negotiating, interviewing, eating, sleeping, parenting, and solving domestic and global crises. I guess he can also solve world hunger, save Lois Lane, and turn water into wine.

At this point it is easy to understand how we could miss Obama's teleprompted oration. We literally don't see it because we are wowed by the wonderful aestheticism of the Obama brand. Reflect for a moment on Obama's prime time speeches: the DNC nomination speech, the presidential victory speech, the inaugural speech, and the supposed “press conferences.” These are orchestrated spectacles intended to induce Obamania. Even the slightly less staged town hall meetings play into this game. Do people really faint at such events? Mixing presidential politics and the theatrical suspension of belief produces a blinding ignorance that, unfortunately, many people willfully accept and enjoy.

The early twentieth-century German director and playwright Bertolt Brecht worried about this type of blind ignorance. Brecht fought against this problem by creating plays that purposefully estranged and alienated his audiences. Actors would directly address the audience; bright lights would sporadically flash during slow, intimate moments; unrelated songs and out of place captions would appear; etc. Such uncharacteristic conventions remind the audience of the constructed nature of what they are watching, thereby breaking their complacency and inducing their reflection. I guess we could say that someone like George W. Bush was a Brechtian wet dream. No matter how hard he tried, Bush could never hide the constructed nature of his presidency. Stutters, stumbles, and awkwardness continuously marked his public discourse. But that's exactly why the fanfare surrounding Obama may in fact be more dangerous than Bush's 9/11 heroism. We have come to think of Obama as transcending the system when in fact he is a product of that system. The Bush administration was never capable of fully hiding its operations of power. But the Obama administration, armed with a great speaker and a handsome face, directs our attention away from its power and toward a strategically ambiguous notion of “hope and change.”

This is not about recoiling into cynicism but about exposing the system for what it is. I want the Obama presidency to place those teleprompters front and center for the whole world to see. I want him to provoke the Brechtian moment; to estrange us from the glitz and glam of twenty-first century political branding. Doing so would infuse the Obama presidency with an almost unimaginable integrity, which was, more or less, one of his campaign promises. Just imagine: the United States president standing naked before the world, acknowledging that yes, it is true, the emperor does in fact have no clothes! This is not a hero, but an anti-hero; a figure who breaks the silence, acknowledges the elephant in the room, and undercuts the duality of president as actor and citizens as passive audience members. Such a figure undermines the president's privileged position and creates conditions for equally distributing that power among everyone. We are then invited to participate in rather than be spectators of political change.

I'm not sure if America could withstand such a shock. Congress, bloggers, mass media, Wall Street, and even the United Nations might grind to a halt. Speechless. Dumbfounded. Awkward and uneasy. The president is naked. What do we do?

Part of the problem is that we are all part of the system. Could we—the everyday people of this country—withstand such an audacious display of honesty? Some of us could and some of us could not. For those who could, it becomes our responsibility to spotlight the hidden hands of power. We must note those teleprompters, expose their strategic concealment, and articulate their detrimental effects upon America's political mind. Doing so enables us to see the situation more clearly: Obama is a highly gifted and even well-intentioned individual who is reduced to mediocrity by the overpowering weight of the system. This leads to the realization that the system itself must be fundamentally changed from the ground up. No president can produce such change because every president pledges fidelity to the sources and structures of power. Pledging otherwise is a sure ticket out of the Oval Office. Only social movements, the kinds that history has seen a million times, can create the kind of change we can believe in. Yes we can, yes we should, yes we must. Or perhaps there is a better slogan, one that neatly summarizes this essay: Obama is great, but the system is rotten! This slogan appreciates the Obama presidency without falling victim to the presidential spectacle. That's a solid starting point for holding his feet to the fire and demanding some real change.

Author Bio: Jason Del Gandio is a writer, thinker, activist, and teacher dedicated to local and global justice. His first book, Rhetoric for Radicals: a Handbook for 21^st Century Activists, was released in November, 2008 (New Society Publishers). Jason is currently an Assistant Professor of Public Communication at TempleUniversity (Philadelphia, USA). Visit his website for more information: www.jasondelgandio.com

Authors Bio:
Jason Del Gandio is a writer, thinker, activist, and teacher dedicated to local and global justice. His first book, "Rhetoric for Radicals: a Handbook for 21st Century Activists," was released in November, 2008 (New Society Publishers). Jason is currently an Assistant Professor of Public Communication at Temple University (Philadelphia, USA).