Although cynical, Critchley’s argument makes sense to me. I have difficulty sharing people’s passionate belief that Obama will lead us toward a balance representing the common good. Critchley’s language suggests the horrifying possibility for violence masked by the phrase. This country is no stranger to the hypocrisy enabled by its ideals, to tossing around terms like “freedom” and “equality” that mask the horrors of slavery, racism, and excessive military violence.

While Bellah is right to suggest Critchley’s inability to reconcile individualism with the common good, Bellah, too, displays ambivalence about the possibility of such a reconciliation, suggesting, rather, a shift from one to the other. But Obama’s rhetoric displays an understanding that it’s easier to solicit Americans’ compassion, to forge a collective, by calling up images of individual suffering, stating that if “a child [in] Chicago can’t read, that makes a difference in my life,” that “if there’s a senior citizen…struggling to pay for their medicine…that makes my life poorer.” These words speak of compassion as self-interest. His example of an Arab family being denied due process directly refers to the threat this poses to “my civil liberties.” He insists on a shared suffering that provides a basis for uniting self-interest and social solidarity (at least abstractly). Questions remain about the value of this rhetoric: is this reconciliation practically possible? Or do we only include those individuals we can imagine connections with? What happens if “the common good” is not also my good, or a good I can imagine? How, then, do I continue to believe that it’s “common”? Should I?

It remains to be seen how “common” this “good” can be (and how “good” this “common” can be). I’m inclined to think that the common good will remain a myth unless we can truly reconcile individualism with social solidarity. And even if we find this common ground, there’s an infinite distance separating better and good (as Bellah’s examples of European nations “with all their imperfections” tellingly indicate) and this gap stresses that the common good remains a distant (im)possibility. Bellah writes that Obama wishes to make “America into a country with a concern for all its citizens and not just the privileged few.” I wish I could read familiar statements like these without cynicism, without nitpicking, but I stumble over phrases like “all its citizens.” What about its illegal immigrants, its resident aliens, ex-cons? Not even thinking about complex issues surrounding poverty and violence, the scarcity of organs available for transplants, for one, suggests that even in healthcare, some criteria must be used to determine whose “good” matters at the cost of someone else’s. Can we imagine a common good without erecting some boundary, even within a nation? Invoke an “all” that does not veil some exclusion? Or is it simply a matter of where we draw the line? Is there one “good” that’s common to us “all,” either as a nation or as humans? And what methods do we use to determine what this is? Is the common good just about finding the most common good, a common denominator?

Along with the possibility of hope, perhaps we must accept, too, the possibility of violence. Bellah rightly points out that American exceptionalism means both exceptionally good and exceptionally bad. But if we agree that our history is marked by such extremes, then perhaps our future, America’s “historical promise,” contains such extreme possibilities as well. And it’s up to us to determine which of these possibilities we will come closer to realizing. Bellah writes “that one can see America as a beacon of hope…while also recognizing that it has committed the gravest of crimes.” I agree with this elegant statement, but I think we must recognize the possibility that our future will continue to be marked by such crimes. I think people are often too quick to believe in, not just hope for, the promise represented by Obama and the common good. Hope expresses the possibility of a better future, while belief, to me, suggests belief in something: trust in the direction we’ve chosen, that we’ve discovered how to get there. Like Ariel (above comment), I have doubts about our commitment. And I might not believe wholeheartedly in Obama and the common good. But I’m thankful for the possibility of hope.

The reason for my ambivalence is that change in the direction of the common good, in my opinion, is not sparked by choice, or by hope, but rather by necessity. Real growth or change does not come by standing at the edge of a cliff and trying to find one’s wings. In the stories of Washington, Lincoln, and FDR, it was only once the nation had already fallen halfway down, mid-freefall, that the nation found its wings and was able to recover to some degree. Is our present situation halfway down right now? I think not, although we might be heading in that direction.

My point is that despite all of Obama’s rhetoric about sacrifice and good works on the part of individual citizens, I still don’t think that Americans on the whole are ready to commit. James Baldwin once said that “people find it very difficult to act on what they know. To act is to be committed, and to be committed is to be in danger.” More than action, sacrifice, charity, and work toward the common good, I see people acting within the safety of liberal bumper stickers, hipster Obama t-shirts, and Bill Maher recordings on Tivo machines. True, this might be a reflection of the suburban environment in which I grew up. But I think it also speaks symbolically to the national situation at large, because people have simply not been pushed off of the cliff yet (or have not yet chosen to jump). Our current position does not compare much to the heat of the American Revolution, the Civil War, or the Great Depression (yet).

The danger inherent in action for the common good comes from a release. It comes from letting go of powerful beliefs and identities that reign during an era of individualism, and in particular it comes from letting go of a related set of myths. The true colors of this nation show in times of extreme hardship because therein exists a moment in which we must consent to being momentarily lost amidst a conflict of identities. It is in this moment of release that we can rise to the occasion and sort out intentional, meaningful individual/national identities from those mythological ones of unilateral and universal individualism. And in general, we are only willing to make this leap, to be momentarily lost, if there is no other option.

In this sense, I am actually excited about our present situation. Although I do, of course, sympathize first with those who are struggling to feed their families and take care of their loved ones, I also think that our society needs to be pushed off of a cliff and feel lost in a (hopefully brief) freefall if we are to find our wings.

As this relates to Bellah’s vision of embracing a more “normal” advanced modern society, I think that the US is different from other advanced modern societies. Our history is one of extremeness, in the senses of diversity, power, development, and yes, individualism. To move toward the common good is to struggle with this heritage, which is a struggle unique to the US. In the postmodern, globalized world, it is important to acknowledge this kind of situated-ness if we are ever to have agency and the capacity for change. I certainly have hope in moving toward social democracy like other advanced modern nations, and I see our path as being quite particular to our unique history and place in this world.

I do think that Obama represents hope, and I believe in this hope myself. I also agree with Bellah that Obama is “grown up” in that he understands the way that this age fits into our nation’s larger (and in some ways beautiful) struggles with identity and freedom. I just don’t think the nation is ready to confront itself, to be lost, and is perhaps not prepared to find itself either. It is neither our moment nor our time quite yet. This is more than a roundabout way of saying that things will get worse before they get better. This is to say that our world and our nation are on the verge of struggles that are larger than politics, policies, and economics. The kind of change that is really needed is on a far more introspective scale of our identities, both as citizens and as a nation. We might very well be on our way, and I hope that Obama (or another leader as grown-up as him) is ready to lead once we truly become immersed in these struggles.