Ahem.  As some of you have gathered– and others been beaten over the head with,  it’s hard to tell which– I participated,  in some small way,  in the Presidential campaign of Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador,  in Mexico.

As the United States approaches another election,  and as the election above “concluded” two years ago today,  in a series of events which now seems eerily similar to the pattern of elections worldwide,  it seems like a good time to take some moments to reflect upon the experiences of July 2nd, 2006,  and what they may mean for us all.

My experience of the events was intensely personal;  my role,  both complicated and far less important than many others,  and still one which I am not fully “at liberty” to speak openly about.  Yet- with the impending sense that far more is at stake than protocols-

There is also the question of tone.  Perhaps the quality of Scott McClellan’s reflections say more about the state of the North American Republic than anything I might write,   but there is a “look at me” quality to so much of the US-American experience-which is entirely opposed to the ideals  and hopes,  the self-effacing humility,  of the regime to which I took part.

Days into our experience of the unfolding events– this is not a place to discuss the decision not to concede,  though that is a decision the United States may well have to revisit and endure again soon-I had the chance to pause and review Ted Sorenson’s account of November of 1960-I discovered,  again,  the point where Ted remarks to John Kennedy,  that in reviewing the inaugural addresses of the United States,  he discovered the majority “unmemorable.”

It would be interesting,  one day,  to teach a seminar at Williams or Vanderbilt,  reviewing such addresses in history-to begin,  by looking over the students,  and asking,  “Who among you,  might one day… Who among you,  may build and secure the future we need as nations?”

After my review of Sorenson,  I called ——-,  to share this remark,  and ——- responded,  quite curtly given the situation,   ”Yes,  that’s pretty much what I discovered” (when conducting the same review).

What does this experience mean,  or reveal?   As we might put it on a syllabus:  what is it to assemble an administration-to address a nation-what happens,  is achieved or is not achieved,  in such moments and events?  How do we understand them,  as individuals,  as citizens,  as nations?

(2)

One of the ‘facts’ of our experience,  which is probably not generally understood,  is that somewhere around a week before the election,  in expectation of ‘victory’ and out necessity,  we began to reach out to the world and take the steps necessary to assume power and assemble the administration of a nation.

There is something terribly and terrifyingly intoxicating in such moments-for good and bad,  all the possibilities and possible deceptions of power-and in some sense,   the course of events of the following days may have been set as an ‘irrevocable course’ because,  simply,  a Presidency had already begun to take form.

Ted Sorenson was the architect and agent of that process in the early moments of the Kennedy administration.  His reflections reveal much about the process and the ambition to assemble a government capable of drawing upon all of our resources as a nation,  and as nations,  and reimaging what we may do and create and become,  together.

In contrast,  our process was much more inclusive,  involving many individuals in the place of an advisor such as Sorenson-and the appeal,  much more broad-ranging,  for the resources and thoughts and ideas and aid of not just a nation,  but a world.

In this regard,  I can only point to the existence of a remarkable goodwill,  summarized in De Gaulle’s first telegraph to Hyannis Port:  “Greetings,  and welcome!”

I will also recall that John Kennedy’s first action and executive order,  as ours would have been,  was to simply feed all our citizens-a goal I wish a leader of the United States,  still might have the will and determination and strength to execute.

(3)

Beyond the deceptive, almost intoxicating experience of the moment—and of power—we, like Sorenson, sought to draft a document, and assemble an administration, which might stand above the course of history and in some way, help us understand and shape its course.

But on other hand, stark realism stood in the way great hopes and ambitions, and it may be better to spend a little time with those limitations. As RRO characterized it, our goal was to assume the Presidency to “avert disaster,” to merely right the ship before it sank, to have the ability to take the bold and hard economic steps necessary to prevent economic and social collapse – a collapse now playing out in the Republic.

The state of the Republic is dire. Real wages have collapsed more than half in a quarter-century; a combination of economic changes, foreign influence and interference, and internal corruption has depopulated much of the southern states, sent tens of millions— Mexico’s workforce—fleeing to the United States and elsewhere. The southern states, and now much of the north, are close to ungovernable. As recently remarked elsewhere, this state of affairs threatens to throw Mexico into civil war on the scale of Columbia or worse—and threatens the fundamental security of the United States and thus the entire world.

(4)

In this respect, our hope was merely to prevent the coming deluge, the potential descent of the Republic into something much worse than the “perfect dictatorship” which it often is.

A more relevant question for the United States today might be: “What does this experience of Presidency mean, for the United States today, the challenges and problems it is about to face in earnest, the decisions to be made and the construction of a future administration?”


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