By Pramila Jayapal

Barack Obama persuaded us to hope, says the author, that under his guidance the nation could take on its very toughest challenges. But stepping up to the plate isn’t enough.

I watched President Barack Obama’s State of the Union speech ready to fall in love again or to wage war.  I came out cautiously optimistic but afraid to be burned yet again, encouraged and yet disappointed, all at the same time.  Perhaps that is a fitting response to a man who has the capacity to engender so much hope in a truly flawed political system, making disappointment inevitable.

President Obama gestures during his State of the Union address on Wednesday. (Reuters)

Candidate Obama ran a campaign of hope and change, one that promised that America would work together across differences to achieve what we all wanted for our kids and ourselves:  a good job, a roof over our heads, stability, freedom from fear.  He talked about solving the tough issues that America must deal with:  reforming health care, fixing the broken immigration system, rebuilding our roads and railways, making sure that all kids get a good education regardless of the color of their skin or where they live.  He promised to end the wars and work for peace, energize democracy and fight for justice.  He painted a picture for us of what life could look like if people came together, expected the best of themselves and others and settled for nothing less.  He promised real change, change we could believe in.

The President’s speech tonight was hailed by most pundits (with the exception of Fox News) as a masterful “threading of the needle.”  According to them, he walked the fine line between standing for his values and his agenda and yet still keeping the door open to the Republicans for a bipartisan curtain call.  He tried to assure the American people that he still knew the pain people suffered, that the letters he gets every night remind him of the real problems of real people.  His clear direction that providing jobs needs to be the number one priority this year was no surprise—and nor was his plan to get banks to pay a fee in return for being bailed out by the taxpayers.  He emphasized that he “hated” the bank bailout—that everyone did—but that he didn’t take office to do things that were popular, but rather to take leadership.  He urged Congress to refuse to walk away from health care, to get it done for the American people.  He pushed for climate change, for financial reform, reminded the American people that he’ll be ending the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, if later than expected.  He even reprimanded the Supreme Court for their recent decision.

So, why then was I left feeling only marginally reassured and only slightly hopeful?  Why is it that I feel like I just watched a pitcher wind up at the mound only to balk on the pitch—several times?

To be fair, first, the President is speaking to a country seemingly more divided than ever before and with enormous challenges; the highest levels of unemployment in over two and a half decades; the lowest levels of unionization in the private sector in over a century; assignment to corporations—by a court none less than the highest in our land—of free speech rights that trump those of actual citizens; an underclass of at least 12 million undocumented immigrants who live in the shadows; and a continuing fight to ensure that women’s right to choose is supported with funding for safe abortions.  All of these problems are not new—as he said tonight, these are the same reasons he ran for president in the first place.  And, as he politely pointed out, eight years of the Bush Administration, two wars and reckless deregulation created chaos—all before he even walked in the door of the White House.

All true.  But he challenged us to expect more from Washington, more from him.  He asked us to fill the ball park with fans and to be ready to hope for much more than we ever had before.  He wound up…and then balked.

Take job creation.  When the President talked about taking $30 billion and giving it to community banks to lend to small businesses, I felt a balk.  Bringing back the millions of jobs we have lost, putting America back to work is going to require more than $30 billion.  Although he talked about investing in infrastructure development too, he made no commitments on the amount of funds he would invest.  And compare the $30 billion for job creation—the #1 priority—to the $700 billion paid to banks for the bailout.

He wound up again a short time later, saying that some people had told him that addressing the larger challenges would be too ambitious or contentious, and that “we should just put things on hold for a while.”  One of my favorite parts of his speech were these words:

“For those who make these claims, I have one simple question: How long should we wait? How long should America put its future on hold?… As hard as it may be, as uncomfortable and contentious as the debates may be, it’s time to get serious about fixing the problems that are hampering our growth.”

This seemed like a perfect wind-up to an argument for why the country needs to take on fixing the broken immigration system—a promise that the President made during the campaign and that helped get him the immigrant vote in key states where he needed those votes to win.  I expected the President to let loose the numerous arguments for why fixing immigration is good for the economy—a recent Center for American Progress report estimated that reforming immigration would bring $1.5 trillion into the economy over the next decade—and the right thing to do.  And if immigration reform is going to happen, it needs the President to be firmly in the game, using his political muscle to help make it happen.  But the President wound up…and then balked, giving only a throw-away sentence to the need for immigration reform.

He talked about financial reform, promoting innovation and trade, and fixing education.  In each of these, he put some good salvos to Republicans who want to expand oil and gas drilling and nuclear power plants, of rewarding “success” not failure in education.

To his credit, he did pressure Republicans to be more than a party of “No.”  In another of my favorite lines, he laid out a challenge to them to work across the aisle or take responsibility for the failure:

“Just saying no to everything may be good short-term politics, but it’s not leadership. We were sent here to serve our citizens, not our ambitions.”

So, perhaps the pundits are right that he threaded the needle masterfully, forcing the Republicans into a box so that they had to stand and clap even as they gritted their teeth and continued to vow that they wouldn’t give him a single victory this year.  Perhaps the commentators are right that he did enough to lay out an inspiring vision for the American people of the two paths we face.  Perhaps they are right that we could not expect more than this.  And when he said, “I won’t quit,” I did feel encouraged for a brief moment.

But then, as I watched, I was reminded of something I had heard about the Masai tribe in Kenya—the birthplace of the President’s father.  One of the most accomplished and fabled warrior tribes, known for their ferocity and bravery, the Masai start every conversation with the same question.  It is a traditional greeting that reminds them of their true duties, holds them accountable every day to the real work they are there to accomplish.  The greeting is this:  “And how are the children?”

The traditional answer is “All the children are well,” meaning the primary duty as a tribe is foremost and all actions strive toward that:  to ensure that the future is protected for our children.

Imagine if President Obama and his Cabinet members asked every morning, “How are the children?”  Imagine if that’s the way they measured all they did each day.  Imagine if they became fabled warriors, known for the ferocity and bravery in protecting the future.

That is the spirit I hoped to see tonight in the President—a pitcher, wound up perfectly, and then pitching the ball as if he really intended to win the game.