A.B. Stoddard: Change we can count on

It has taken only days for grief and grace in Charleston, S.C., to spark remarkable political change and reconciliation. As the 2016 presidential race continues to become more crowded and more complicated, it’s a good time to recognize that the next president of the United States isn’t at all likely to bridge our divides or come close to fixing our worst problems.

Nearly seven years ago an uplifted nation elected its first African-American president, who preached hope and change in one America — neither blue nor red. But President Obama didn’t change the system; it changed him. Now few voters in either party expect strong leadership from the White House, or from Washington, D.C., in general, any time soon. 

{mosads}Some presidential historians even contend that we might never have a “great” president again. Good men and women will continue to find themselves shackled by the modern presidency, struggling to escape the entrenched traps set by partisans and monied interests who, fueled by social media, can easily influence a president’s failure or success.

But now, the Confederate flag, having survived endless political debates for decades, is under threat of public and civic rejection. Just days after a racist murderer who embraced the flag massacred nine African-American believers in their church, companies across America, along with states and localities, are banishing the flag to history. 

There are countless politicians in South Carolina — and now Mississippi and numerous other states — who one week ago wouldn’t have dreamt of this. But as South Carolina Sen. and presidential hopeful Lindsey Graham (R), who last week defended the flag, said on CNN: “This is an example where the people led the politicians.”

By the time suspect Dylann Roof’s desire to spark a race war became known, the city of Charleston, the state of South Carolina and the entire nation defied his hopes for hate and came together in love. Just one day after learning his name, the families of those who were murdered as they prayed in church faced him and forgave him, firm in their commitment to a forgiving God and to the triumph of love over hate. As checks poured into funds to help the surviving family members, crowds gathered to weep and hope outside Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, and white people flowed into black churches, the historical significance of the Confederate flag flattened under the weight of its potential to further hate. 

The service held Sunday at the site of the tragedy, the Mother Emanuel Church, was a buoyant display of gratitude, mercy and the comfort of community. There was laughter, the celebration of the preciousness of life and the welcoming of strangers who just had to be there. It was more powerful or hopeful than anything many Americans have witnessed in many years — and for some of us, in our lifetimes. 

The 2016 presidential campaign currently consists of one candidate from one party who polls well but a majority perceives as untrustworthy and nearly 20 possible candidates on the other side, none of which is popular enough to take a lead.

Talking about racism and the scars we bear from it doesn’t make Hillary Clinton a leader — not when she won’t tell voters her positions on the Iran deal, the Trans-Pacific Partnership, the Keystone oil pipeline or our current, failing strategy against the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria. And those GOP presidential contenders who avoided characterizing as racist the most heinous murders at the hands of Roof — a proud racist — should be ashamed of themselves.

The Emanuel Nine, their families, their friends and their fellow citizens have inspired so many to do so much, which will continue long after nine funerals are held. Change may no longer come from capitols, but it can be forced by communities, where people lead by their example.

Stoddard is an associate editor of The Hill.