인종 통합으로 '더 완벽한 미국' 만들자

[明我]

봄이 성큼 다가오니까 어김없이 떠나는 겨울이 시샘을 하는 아침입니다.

오늘은 미국 민주당 대선후보로 유력시 되는 버락 오바마에 대한 기사입니다.

지난 18일 필라델피아 연설에서 오바마는 민감한 인종문제에 대해 언급을 했습니다.

혼혈인 오바마에게 언젠가는 넘어야 할 산인 인종문제를

최근 그의 측근인 제레미아 라이트 목사의 "God Damn America" 파문이 확산되는 시점에서

정면으로 돌파한 것입니다.

미국 사회의 뿌리 깊은 인종문제가 민주당 후보 경선 뿐만 아니라

공화당 메케인과의 대선 경쟁력에 있어서 큰 변수로 작용할 수 있다는 점에서

이를 피해가지 않고 조기에 이슈화한 오바마의 선택은 적절한 것이라 생각됩니다.

미국 유수 언론들의 반응은 엇갈렸고,

연설 직후 지지율이 하락하는 현상도 보였지만,

최근 여론조사 결과를 보면 지지율이 다시 상승하는 것으로 나타나고 있습니다.

문제의 연설 "A More Perfect Union"은 참으로 명연설이라고 생각합니다.

그래서, 아래에 연설의 한글 요약본과 영문 Full본, 그리고 유튜브 동영상을 붙였습니다.

저는 미국 시민은 아니지만, 오바마의 지지자입니다.

오바마의 연설에는 Heart가 있고, 변화에 대한 열망이 있고, 꿈이 있습니다.

저는 이번 연설의 포인트는 인종 문제에 대한 언급보다는 통합의 리더쉽에 대한 역설이라고 생각합니다.

제가 이번 이명박 대통령 취임식에 참석해서 취임사를 들으면서 가장 아쉬웠던 부분이 바로 "통합의 리더쉽"에 대한 부분이었습니다.

변화와 선진화에 대한 당위성과 큰 그림에는 전반적으로 동의할 수 있었으나,

이념을 초월하고, 지역간의 벽을 허무는 통합의 리더쉽에 대한 부분은 부족하다 생각했습니다.

그런 면에서 연일 뉴스를 장식하는 우리의 현실(?)을 보면 여러모로 답답한 부분들이 많습니다.

제 나이 50대가 되는 약 20년 후면 한국 사회에서 인종 문제도 큰 이슈로 부각될 것입니다.

제3세계 외국인들의 유입, 코시안의 증가 等이 그 배경이 되겠습니다.

장기적인 관점에서 교육과 제도를 통한 인종문제에 대한 배려와 고심이 필요하다고 생각합니다.

오늘도 즐거운 하루 되세요.

P.S. 개인적으로는 상당히 센티해지는 아침입니다. 하려고 한 것이 있어서 사무실에 7시에 나와서 계속 음악만 들었습니다. -_-

     김동률의 "다시 시작해보자" 첨부에 붙입니다.

     그리고, 지난 주에 언급했던 김광진 콘서트에 대한 기사를 마지막에 덧붙입니다.

     게스트가 유희열, 이승환이랍니다. 안그래도 Toy 콘서트 못가서 아쉬웠는데 제가 예매한 공연의 게스트는 유희열이었으면 좋겠네요.

Dong-wook Kim

E-Mail : dreamanager@gmail.com
Mobile : 010-3259-0401
Blog : http://blog.naver.com/ysuexman  

인종 통합으로 '더 완벽한 미국' 만들자

김수정<sujeong@joongang.co.kr> | 제54호 | 20080323 입력

민주당 대선 예비 후보인 버락 오바마 상원의원이 흑백 갈등 문제를 정면으로 제기했다. 자신의 정신적 스승인 제레미아 라이트 목사가 '백인 사회'인 미국을 '빌어먹을 미국(God damn America)'이라고 말한 뒤 파문이 일자 승부수를 던진 것이다. 미 건국사의 원죄, 노예제를 화두로 꺼낸 그의 연설은 "나에게 꿈이 있다"고 한 마틴 루서 킹 목사의 연설에 비견된다. 그의 대담한 시도 때문에 무당파 지지층이 등을 돌리고 있다는 분석도 나온다. 18일 펜실베이니아주 필라델피아 헌법기념관에서 한 오바마의 연설 '더 완벽한 미국합중국'을 요약한다. <편집자>

버락 오바마 미 상원의원이 18일(현지시간) 필라델피아 헌법기념관에서 인종 문제를 주제로 연설한 뒤 기자회견을 하고 있다. [필라델피아 AP=연합뉴스]

"우리 국민은 보다 완벽한 연방을 건설하기 위해…."

221년 전 미국 민주주의를 출범시킨 말입니다. 전제 정치와 종교적 박해를 피해 바다를 건너온 농부와 학자·정치인은 이곳(필라델피아)에서 이 글귀가 들어간 헌법에 서명했지만 궁극적으로 헌법은 미완의 것이 됐습니다. 헌법은 미국의 원죄인 노예제로
더럽혀졌습니다. 헌법은 모든 시민에게 법 앞의 평등과 자유·정의를 약속했습니다.

하지만 양피지 위의 약속은 노예를 속박에서 해방하기에, 인종과 종교 차이를 불문한 모든 시민에게 완전한 권리와 의무를 부여하는 데 충분치 않았습니다. 따라서 후(後)세대 미국인은 거리에서, 법정에서 우리의 이상과 그 시대 현실의 간격을 좁히려 투쟁했습니다.

최근 인종 갈등의 거품이 수면 위로 올라왔습니다. 언론은 모든 출구조사에서 인종별로 나뉘는 선거 결과를 찾아내려 혈안이 됐습니다. 흑과 백, 흑과 갈색까지 구분하려 했습니다. 나에 대한 지지가 차별 철폐 조치(affirmative action) 덕분이며, 흑백 화합을 싼값에 얻으려는 진보적 백인의 열망 때문이라는 얘기도 들었습니다.

반면 제레미아 라이트 목사는 인종 간 골을 더욱 깊이 파고, 우리의 선의를 훼손할 수도 있는 선동적 발언을 했습니다. 이는 분명히 백인과 흑인 모두에게 상처를 주고 분열을 초래하는 발언입니다.

지금은 통합이 필요한 시기입니다. 이라크와 아프가니스탄 전쟁, 테러리스트의 위협, 추락하는 경제 등은 흑인의 문제도, 백인의 문제도, 라틴계의 문제도, 아시아계의 문제도 아닙니다. 우리 모두 손잡고 해결해야 할 당면 과제입니다.

20년 전 알게 된 라이트 목사는 나에게 기독교 신앙을 소개했고, 사랑을 가르쳐준 분입니다. 가족 같은 분입니다. 내가 흑인 공동체와, 나의 백인 할머니와 의절할 수 없듯 그와 의절할 수 없습니다. 나의 외할머니도 (흑인인) 내 앞에서 '길거리에서 흑인 남성을 지나칠 때 무섭다'고 말했습니다. 하지만 이 사람들은 내 일부이고, 내가 사랑하는 조국, 미국의 일부입니다.

지난 수주간 우리 사회의 복잡한 인종 문제가 불거졌습니다. 하지만 우리는 진정으로 해결하려 하지 않았습니다. 이 문제를 회피하면 우리는 보건의료·교육·일자리를 찾는 문제의 해법도 찾을 수 없습니다. 윌리엄 폴크너는 "과거는 죽어 매장되지 않는다. 사실 과거는 과거가 아니다"고 했습니다. 오늘날 흑백 사회의 불균형은 노예제와 흑인 차별 정책의 끔찍한 유산으로부터 이어지고 있음을 기억해야 합니다.

흑백 분리 학교들이 있었고, 열악한 조건의 학교들이 지금도 있습니다. '브라운 판결(1954년 공립학교의 흑백 분리가 헌법에 위배된다는 연방대법원의 판결)'이 내려진 지 50년이 지났지만 이를 바로잡지 못했습니다. 흑인은 땅을 갖지도, 은행 대출을 받지도 못했습니다. 경찰관도, 소방관도 되지 못했습니다. 후손에게 물려줄 재산을 모을 수 없었습니다. 그런 역사가 백인과 흑인의 빈부 차, 도시와 농촌의 흑인 슬럼가를 만든 것입니다. 패배의 유산을 이어받은 젊은이들이 미래에 대한 희망 없이 길거리에서 헤매거나 감옥에서 쇠약해져 가고 있습니다.

흑인의 분노는 백인 친구 앞에서 공개적으로 표현되지 않을지 모릅니다. 그러나 이발소나 식탁에 둘러앉을 때는 다릅니다. 분노는 엄연한 현실이고, 엄청난 것입니다. 분노의 뿌리를 이해하지 않고 비난만 하는 것은 인종 간 오해의 간극을 더욱 넓힐 뿐입니다.

똑같은 분노가 백인 사회에도 존재합니다. 대부분의 백인 노동자나 중산층은 특별히 인종 문제를 느끼지 못합니다. 평생 열심히 일해온 그들은 자신의 연금이 쓰레기 취급을 받는 것에 분노합니다. 꿈이 쓸려가 버린다고 느낍니다. 세계화 경쟁이 심한 불황기에 사람들은 다른 사람의 꿈은 나의 희생으로 이뤄진다는 제로섬 게임을 생각합니다. 그래서 그들은 자신들이 저지르지 않은 조상의 불의(不義) 때문에 흑인에게 좋은 직장과 학교를 다닐 기회를 빼앗겼다며 억울해합니다. 흑인의 분노와 마찬가지로 백인 사회의 감정 역시 회사 같은 곳에선 표출되지 않습니다. 대신 정치적인 지형을 형성합니다. 1980년 '레이건 연합(Reagan Coalition·중도층과 보수파의 연합)'의 형성이 한 예입니다. 정치인은 선거를 위해 범죄의 공포를 이용했고, 토크쇼 진행자나 보수 논객은 인종주의를 자극해 자신의 입지를 구축해 왔습니다.

우리가 서 있는 곳이 바로 여깁니다.

그러나 이 나라는 라이트 목사의 동료 한 명을 최고위직에 도전하도록 한 나라입니다. 미국은 변화할 수 있습니다. 그리고 우리가 이룩한 업적은 우리에게 희망을, 희망을 향한 담대함을 부여하고 있습니다.

완벽한 미국을 건설하기 위한 도정에서 백인 사회가 할 일은 흑인 차별의 과거 유산이 있고, 지금 차별적 사건들이 존재함을 인정하는 것입니다. 과거 세대에 불가능했던 기회의 사다리를 제공하고 흑인·라틴계·백인 어린이에 대한 교육 투자를 해야 합니다. 이는 모든 미국인의 번영에 기여하는 일입니다. 단언컨대 우리는 함께 과거의 인종 문제로 생긴 상처를 치유할 수 있고, 더 완벽한 미국을 건설하기 위해 전진할 수 있습니다. 우리는 할 수 있습니다.

정리=김수정 기자 sujeong@joongang.co.kr

                                                                 

"A More Perfect Union" by Senator Barack Obama:

"We the people, in order to form a more perfect union."

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America's improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation's original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution - a Constitution that had at is very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part - through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk - to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign - to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together - unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction - towards a better future for our children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton's Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I've gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world's poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners - an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It's a story that hasn't made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts - that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either "too black" or "not black enough." We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely - just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren't simply controversial. They weren't simply a religious leader's effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country - a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright's comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems - two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn't all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God's work here on Earth - by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note - hope! - I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion's den, Ezekiel's field of dry bones. Those stories - of survival, and freedom, and hope - became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn't need to feel shame about...memories that all people might study and cherish - and with which we could start to rebuild."

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety - the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity's services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions - the good and the bad - of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother - a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America - to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through - a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.

Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments - meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families - a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods - parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement - all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it - those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations - those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience - as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they're told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren't always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze - a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns - this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It's a racial stalemate we've been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so na?ve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy - particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction - a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people - that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances - for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans -- the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives - by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American - and yes, conservative - notion of self-help found frequent expression‎ in Reverend Wright's sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country - a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know -- what we have seen - is that America can change. That is true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope - the audacity to hope - for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination - and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past - are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds - by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world's great religions demand - that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother's keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister's keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle - as we did in the OJ trial - or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation - the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I'd like to leave you with today - a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King's birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that's when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother's problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn't. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, "I am here because of Ashley."

"I'm here because of Ashley." By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

"오마바의 백인 엄마는 자유로운 영혼의 방랑자" NY 타임스 뉴시스

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스탠리 앤 던햄 소에토로. 아들은 세계에서 가장 유명한 사람이 됐지만 그의 이름은 여전히 낯설다.

흑인 최초의 대통령을 꿈꾼 버락 오바마 상원의원의 백인 어머니를 뉴욕 타임스가 장문의 기사로 집중 소개해 관심이 일고 있다.

뉴욕 타임스는 14일(현지시간) 오바마 의원이 유세 중 자신의 어머니를 '싱글 맘(홀로 자녀를 키운 엄마)'으로 소개했지만 막상 그녀에 대해 알려진 것은 캔자스 출신의 백인 여성으로 케냐 유학생과 결혼했다는 것 외에는 별로 없다고 보도했다.

그러나 타임스는 오늘의 오바마를 일군 것은 세계인으로서의 열린 시각과 자식 교육에 대한 열정을 가졌던 어머니의 덕이라면서 그를 자유로운 영혼의 방랑자라고 묘사했다.

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▲ 뉴시스

오바마 어머니의 처녀 시절 이름은 스탠리 앤 던햄이다. 소에토로는 나중에 재혼한 인도네시아인 남편의 성이다.

그가 스탠리라는 남자 이름을 갖게 된 것은 아들을 바랬던 아버지 때문이었다. 2차대전 기간 중 캔사스 엘도라도 출신의 아버지와 오거스타 출신의 어머니 사이에서 태어난 스탠리는 캘리포니아와 캔자스, 텍사스, 워싱턴을 거쳐 60년 하와이 호놀룰루에 정착했다.

하와이 대학에 갓 입학한 그는 러시아 수업 시간에 케냐에서 온 오바마의 아버지를 만나 사랑에 빠졌다. 그 시절만 해도 흑인과 백인이 결혼하는 것은 드문 일이었다. 그의 부모는 당황했지만 결국 허락했다. 수년 전 오바마의 할머니는 한 인터뷰에서 "딸이 외국인과 결혼한다는 것이 그 때는 불안했다"고 털어놓았다.

이듬해 오바마가 태어났지만 결혼 생활은 오래 가지 못했다. 오바마의 아버지가 하버드대에 진학한다면서 떠났기 때문이다. 오바마의 어머니는 하와이에서 만난 롤로 소에토로라는 인도네시아인과 재혼했다. 1966년 수하르토가 군사 쿠데타로 집권한 이후 소에토로가 귀국할 때 오바마 모자도 따라갔다.

스탠리의 어린 시절 친구인 수자 블레이크는 "스탠리가 아주 똑똑하고 호기심이 많았다. 짧은 머리의 백인 남자 아이들과는 한번도 데이트한 적이 없다"면서 "그는 꼬마 때부터 세상에 대한 열린 시각을 갖고 있었다. 같은 인종보다는 다른 사람들을 기꺼이 포옹했다"고 술회했다.

스탠리는 어린 오바마에 대한 교육열이 대단했다. 새벽 4시부터 깨워서 공부를 시킬 정도였다.

딸 마야를 낳았지만 두 번째 결혼 역시 오래 가지 못했다. 그는 일을 하고 싶어 했고 남편은 아이를 더 낳기를 원했기 때문이다. 그 시절 가까운 친구였던 니나 나야르는 "스탠리는 하나의 제도로서의 결혼이 별로 의미가 없다고 생각했다"고 전했다.

1974년 말 스탠리는 오바마와 9살 어린 동생 마야를 데리고 호놀룰루로 돌아갔다. 오바마는 비싼 사립학교에 진학했지만 장학금을 받고 다녔다. 스탠리는 3년 후 인도네시아에 일자리가 생겨 돌아갔지만 오바마는 공부를 위해 남기로 했다.

마야는 "오빠를 남겨둔 것이 엄마로선 가장 힘든 결정이었다. 헤어지는 것이 고통스러웠지만 그게 최선이라고 생각했다"며 뜨거운 아들 사랑을 돌이켰다.

스탠리의 친구인 조지아 맥컬리는 "인도네시아에 있을 때 스탠리는 항상 아들을 그리워 했다"고 말했다. 두 모자는 정기적으로 편지를 주고받았고 여름방학과 크리스마스 때는 오바마가 인도네시아로 왔다.

스탠리는 자바의 포드재단에서 일하며 빈민들을 돕는 프로그램에 참여했고 국제개발재단의 컨설턴트로도 활동했다. 스탠리는 아들에게 정직의 중요성을 강조했고 독립적인 판단을 하라고 가르치곤 했다.

문화인류학자가 된 마야는 "그 시절 엄마와 철학과 정치, 독서에 관한 폭넓은 주제로 많은 대화를 했다. 엄마는 독선을 싫어 했고 내게 세계에 대한 열린 마음을 갖게 해 줬다"고 말했다.

난소암이라는 진단을 받은 스탠리는 생의 마지막 몇 달을 그의 사랑이 싹튼 하와이에서 보냈다. 오바마의 외할머니도 그 곳에 있었다.

스탠리는 아들이 공직 선거 캠페인을 시작한 1995년 11월 숨졌다. 오바마는 임종을 지키지 못한 것을 "내 생애 최대의 실수"라며 지금도 마음 아프게 생각하고 있다.

장례를 치른 후 오바마와 동생 마야는 오하우의 남쪽 해변으로 가서 한 줌 재로 변한 유해를 태평양 앞바다에 뿌렸다. 엄마가 여생을 보냈던 인도네시아까지 흘러갈 것이라고 믿으면서.

노창현특파원 robin@newsis.com

 

 

[me] "듣는 음악에 대한 갈증 … 힘있는 발라드로 채웠죠" [중앙일보]

6년 만에 새 앨범 '라스트 데케이드' 내주 발표
싱어송 라이터 김광진

관련핫이슈 [Section] me 지난 me 기사 보기

김광진(44·사진). '마법의 성' '여우야' '편지' 같은 애절한 발라드를 만든 가수 겸 작곡가로 유명하다. 그가 새 앨범 '라스트 데케이드(LAST DECADE)'를 냈다. 네 번째 솔로 앨범 '솔베이지'(2002년) 이후 6년 만이다. 그룹 '더 클래식' 때를 포함하면, 여덟 번째 앨범이다.

공백 6년? 이해할 만하다. 아티스트와 펀드매니저(동부자산운용 팀장), 흔치 않은 이종교배를 시도해온 그 아닌가. 그가 운용하는 '더 클래식 펀드 시리즈'는 지난해 주식형 펀드 수익률 1위에 오르기도 했다.

20일 오후 여의도 증권가의 한 카페에서 김광진을 만났다. 그가 넥타이를 잠시 풀어놓았다. 펀드매니저가 아닌 음악인 김광진을 잠시 즐기는 듯했다. 지난 6년간 '집 나간 아이의 마음'이었다고 운을 뗐다.

"펀드매니저로서 좋은 성과를 냈지만, 마음 한구석에는 집을 떠나온 아이 같은 불안감이 자리잡고 있었어요. 집안(음반시장)이 무너졌으니 집 나간 아이의 걱정은 오죽했겠어요."

그래도 그는 음악의 힘을 믿었다. 오랜만의 '귀가'는 그렇게 이뤄졌다.

"1990년대 싱어송 라이터들이 다시 각광받는 것은 비주얼 음악만이 전부가 아니라는 것을 사람들이 깨달았기 때문이죠. 듣는 음악에 대한 그리움이 커져가고 있는 겁니다. 이번 앨범을 준비하며 감동을 줄 수 있는 음악을 계속할 수 있다는 자신감을 얻었습니다."

앨범 타이틀 '지난 10년'은 그에게 어떤 의미일까.

"솔로 김광진의 노래들이 '마법의 성'(1994년) 만큼 큰 히트를 치지는 못했죠. 하지만 솔로가수로서 음악적 변화를 시도한 소중한 시간이었습니다. 지난 10년을 정리하며 새 출발을 하자는 뜻입니다."

앨범에는 '아는지' '스틸 빌롱스 투 유(Still belongs 2 U)' '행복을 주는 노래' 세 곡의 신곡이 들어 있다. '아는지'는 절제돼 있기에 듣는 이의 마음에 더 큰 공명을 남기는 김광진표 발라드곡. '스틸 빌롱스 투 유'는 스윙 리듬이, '행복을 주는 노래'는 시원한 기타 스트로크가 돋보인다.

"이번 앨범은 간단한 코드에 멜로디도 큰 변화가 없어요. 요즘 팝발라드는 화성은 세련돼 보이지만 음악적 독창성은 부족합니다. 코드는 간단하지만 힘을 느낄 수 있는 곡을 만들었습니다."

앨범에는 '동경소녀' '오딧세이의 항해' '비타민' 등 베스트곡 12곡도 수록돼 있다. 그는 다음달 20, 21일 예술의전당 토월극장에서 앨범 발매 기념 콘서트를 연다. 유희열·이승환이 게스트로 참가한다.

그가 다시 넥타이를 맸다. 식상하지만 그래도 확인하고 싶은 것을 물었다. 뮤지션의 애절한 감성과 펀드매니저의 냉철한 판단은 과연 공존할 수 있는 것인가.

"음악, 주식 모두 예민한 일이죠. 둘 다 리듬을 타야 좋은 결과를 낼 수 있습니다. 곡을 쓸 때 가장 신경쓰는 게 고정관념에서 탈피하는 겁니다. 고정관념을 깰 때 마음을 움직이는 노래가 나와요. 투자도 고정관념을 깨고, 변화를 받아들여야 수익을 낼 수 있습니다."

그는 자신의 발라드 감수성이 운명론적 세계관에서 오는 것이라고 했다. 인생은 슬프고, 안타깝고, 그리워하는 것이라는 생각이 노래에 깔려 있다는 것이다. 사랑하는 이를 놓아주며, 행복을 기원해 주는 '편지'(2000년)는 그런 정서가 녹아있는 그의 대표곡이다.

"'편지'의 노랫말은 아내가 썼어요. 아내의 경험을 담은 진솔하고 시적인 가사가 아직도 많은 이를 울립니다. 막 녹음이 끝난 '편지'를 차 안에서 들으며, 아내와 함께 눈물을 흘렸던 기억이 생생합니다."


글=정현목 기자, 사진=박종근 기자