Obama's Subtle Literary Technique

I'll be the first to admit my firm subversion to politics and politicians -- American and otherwise. Luckily for me this is a rhetorics class where we will be analyzing discourse and oration...not the cult of personality and celebrity spectator sport of politics. To the relief of my classmates I will try and elaborate on technique and methods employed, not my opinion on the matter (which I'm sure all of you are just dying to hear).  

All extremes aside -- whether you have enshrined Obama as the second Jesus, or avidly denounced his platform as nothing more than polished-up socialism -- I think it's pretty agreeable among everyone to say that he is an excellent public speaker. He consistently proves his charisma and talent for oration, the most recent of which was displayed at the Democratic National Convention. 

Beyond the typical campaigning and crowd-stoking, I discovered an inkling of joy when I noticed Obama ever-so-subtly uncovering and celebrating a rich history of beautiful American poetry behind his speech. As an English major not caring much for politics this defined my emotional peak (pathos) of the speech. To this effect, Obama was all the more successful in his use of rhetoric in that while he may not have changed my mind, he at least softened its hard edge by appealing to my aesthetic interests -- for the purpose of his speech, it's a good start. To know that one's current President might at least have some basic knowledge, if not appreciation, of literature may be enough to slightly, or dramatically, sway the opinion of voters. Furthermore, as all literature has its own rhetorical methods used to evoke emotion from its readers, it's not a bad idea for a speaker to employ that particular audience's own popular culture, as well as using its same literary methods, to further the ethos and pathos of the  speech.

Some poetic snippets from Obama's address:    

"We can gut education, or we can decide that in the United States of America, no child should have her dreams deferred because of a crowded classroom or a crumbling school."

Reaching out to a minority population who respect his diversity and upbringing, as well as celebrating his own ethnic roots, Obama made prime use of the popular phrase "dream deferred," first coined by the Harlem poet Langston Hughes in his well-known poem.   

"I'm hopeful because of you. 

The young woman I met at a science fair who won national recognition for her biology research while living with her family at a homeless shelter — she gives me hope.
The auto worker who won the lottery after his plant almost closed, but kept coming to work every day, and bought flags for his whole town and one of the cars that he built to surprise his wife — he gives me hope.
The family business in Warroad, Minnesota, that didn't lay off a single one of their 4,000 employees when the recession hit...they give me hope.
I think about the young sailor I met at Walter Reed Hospital still recovering from a grenade attack that would cause him to have his leg amputated above the knee...He gives me hope."

It could be a stretch, but in this quote Obama's rhetorical device of using quick, photographic snapshots of the Everyday American Life is quite relatable to the public, as well as reminiscent of the rhetorical style of Walt Whitman, one of my absolute favorite poets. This is especially effective because Whitman is widely regarded as one of thee defining American poets -- a lover of democracy, equality, and of people from all ethnicities, religions, education, and wealth (though his love, and poetry, extend far beyond the political realm). And Obama really uses this to his advantage when put in the context of unemployment and economic crisis: the image of the average, struggling American worker...gives him hope; it's something that uncertain families are searching for. Notice Whitman's similar technique from his transcendent book, Leaves of Grass:

"The one-year wife is recovering and happy, a week ago she bore her first child,
The cleanhaired Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine or in the factory mill,
The nine months' gone is in the parturition chamber, her faintness and pains are advancing;
The pavingman leans on his twohanded rammer -- the reporter's lead flies swiftly over the notebook -- the signpainter is lettering with red and gold" (Whitman, Song of Myself)