In a 1947 essay called “The English People,” George Orwell tried to assess the English character in full.
The English, he said, were a gentle, orderly people who respected the law and disliked bullies and bullying.
They were also class-riddled, inartistic and distinctly nonintellectual.
Etc., etc., Orwell said, at least to the extent that such a thing as national character can even be described.
Orwell’s words ring clear in light of Indiana’s recent turn in the campaign spotlight.
After all, there is a sense in which the long slog of the presidential campaign, both primary and general, is essentially a search for character.
Candidates in a long campaign inevitably confront events and circumstances outside their control, as well as their own gaffes, miscalculations and revealed flaws. But the particulars seem to matter less than the candidates' response. Can he take punch? Did she show resolve? Did humility or hubris reveal itself, and in the right proportion?
Campaigning for governor four years ago, Mitch Daniels described the process as a long job interview with Hoosiers. But "audition" seems closer to the mark, since candidates must stamp an impression on an audience that has not clearly advertised – and may not even know – the exact qualities it wants in the starring role.
Enter national character upon the campaign stage.
That’s because the gifted politician responds by assessing the audience's character, and framing his or her platform and persona as a natural outgrowth of that character. Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton were two modern masters of this style of politics, just as Barack Obama aspires to it now.
The gifted politician grasps another fact: Like individuals, our national hopes and aspirations are better, nobler than we are; the successful politician therefore taps our dreams and not our fears, our best and not our worst.
Exceptions abound, of course, as the long line of segregationist governors clearly illustrates. But their “success” was fleeting; Jim Crow died despite their protestations.
Writing against the storm of war and uncertain recovery, Orwell wondered if the great promise of England’s future would be kept. If we wonder the same, against our own war and uncertainties, perhaps we can take some comfort in his words:
“If the answer is to be ‘Yes,’” he wrote, “it is the common people who must make it so.”