Obama’s speech at Hiroshima was an oratorical gem... in which he said nothing and gave nothing away
To borrow from Winston Churchill’s quip about Russia, the mind of Barack Obama is “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma”. Here we have an American President visiting Vietnam and announcing that he will drop a ban on selling military hardware, brushing off reminders of that country’s notorious human rights abuses like dandruff. And on the same trip, without missing a beat, he visits Japan to lay a wreath at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial where he delivers a thoughtful speech about nuclear disarmament and the horrors of war. To tell the truth, it was a remarkable performance. He began by asking his listeners to ponder the lessons of what happened when the first atomic bomb exploded over the city at 8.16am on August 6, 1945.
This is Mr Obama’s signature eloquence. He paints a vivid picture; he asks hard questions; he probes consciences like a Christian preacher. Those six opening sentences hinted at an apology for Truman’s decision to drop the bomb. And in fact, in the days before the visit, rumours flew around the internet that the American President was going to issue an apology. But the rumours were wrong. The real Barack Obama is not a man who opens himself to accusations of weakness by making apologies. He wears a velvet glove but there is always an iron fist. Perhaps the best example of this comes from his Nobel Prize acceptance speech in 2009, whose themes and structure are surprisingly similar to the speech at Hiroshima. Like a professor, he began with a sketch of just war theory; but like an American president, he ended it with a robust defence of America’s right to use force whenever and wherever it sees fit, without consulting anyone. Similarly, Obama apologised for nothing at Hiroshima, however ingratiating his words may have seemed to the Japanese. After listening to his speeches for eight years, I have concluded that his ability to sound conciliatory, humane and understanding while conceding nothing at all is the most characteristic feature of Obama’s rhetoric. How does he do it? 1. He expresses compassion for humble people battered by forces beyond their control.
2. He stands on Olympus to describe the arc of history in which nations are tempest-tossed by inexplicable evil.
3. He declares that all religions, ideologies and nations share in the guilt.
4. He calls for a moral renewal or revolution like a Christian preacher:
5. He boldly echoes the rhetoric of pro-life campaigners:
These techniques are present in nearly all of Obama’s great speeches – and this was a great speech. But there are two elements missing. The first is a commitment to consistency. In the end, despite his oratorical gifts, Barack Obama is just another politician, a spinmeister. Left out of his address in Hiroshima is his record on drone strikes, for instance, a “precision” technology which has killed hundreds of civilians in Pakistan, Yemen and Afghanistan. Left out, too, is his strong support for abortion. So much for “the irreducible worth of every person”. It’s no wonder that he could sell both weapons and disarmament in the same trip. The second is the lack of an over-arching moral philosophy. Obama’s rhetorical master is the Rev Martin Luther King Jr. Smooth words about morality come easily to him, but it’s hard to know what makes right and wrong. It’s not religion; it’s not evolution; it’s not tradition. Is it ultimately just expedience, gussied up with rhetorical flim-flam? If, as F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function," Obama has passed the test. But it takes more than intelligence to be a great leader; it takes sincerity. Michael Cook is editor of MercatorNet. ![]()
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