August 28, 2008: Bearing Witness

T.A. Barnhart

Barack Obama closed with these words on Thursday night: “…in the words of Scripture hold firmly, without wavering, to the hope that we confess.” Confessing hope. We do have hope, those of us who find in Obama and his campaign a real, and realistic, possibility for change in this country and the world. But confessing hope is not enough. As those who have this hope, we must also take up another task, a tremendous responsibility that, for me, has its roots in my presence in Denver last Thursday night: bearing witness.

We confess hope as that which our heart desires and seeks. We bear witness of what we know, what we have seen and experienced, what we insist is true.

Truth is the most profound, and most untouchable, of all human ideas. Yet truth is nothing we can ever prove. There is no scientific test or logical formulation, not even an unassailable testimony of personal experience, that can render an assertion into undeniable truth. Although the basis for whatever authenticity anyone’s life may have, truth is beyond our ability to prove, and for a very good reason:

Truth is a matter of faith, and faith alone. Allow truth to be something definite and provable, and it becomes a mere fact — and faith, in turn, becomes an empty wish. One either accepts an idea or a situation to be true or one does not. Whatever the nature of truth beyond the scope of human life, in this mortal realm, truth is something we pursue but never grasp. We only believe in it. We have faith in it.

But that does not make truth something we cannot demonstrate or advocate or insist upon. We can make our case for truth, and if we have faith in our truth — whatever that truth may be — we ought to make that case. Whether the argument for truth is logical, or scientific, or spiritual, we should step forward and speak of that which we believe and why. But we won’t be proving anything; we’ll only be speaking that which we believe to be true.

Bearing witness. Stepping forward and speaking of that which we know — which we believe — to be true. We bear witness so that others may hear what we perceive to be truth and, perhaps, be persuaded. And in persuading others of our truth, we may open to them a door through which they, in turn, find both truth and hope.

On Thursday night in Denver, I stood with 80,000 others and bore witness to what I believe to be truth: Not that Barack Obama is a savior of some kind, or that the Democratic Party will fix all the world’s problems. What I bore witness to was my own belief that I am essential to making democracy work, that democracy can fix much that is wrong with the world, and that Barack Obama is my partner in this work, not my leader.

And now, home again, recovering from sleep-deprivation and stunned by what I experienced in Denver, I bear witness further: That we must all unite to end the ills that plague our nation and world. That we each matter as much as the next. That hope is a tangible thing (or, as defined by a poster seen at the Manifest Hope Gallery: “Sucks now, better later”). That hope alone is not enough, but nothing will ever be sufficient without hope. That we have a shitload of work to do.

I felt a tremendous sense of privilege on Thursday to be at this historic event. Some time after I left, I realized something awe-inspiring: I was one of only 80,000 people who were present, in person, at one of our nation’s transformational moments. As I thought of the experience and the amazing fact that I was able to be there — and all thanks to the Bus Project, BusFed, and Jefferson Smith for that — I was overwhelmed by the fact that I was one of so few people who will be able to say I stood there with Barack Obama as he accepted the Democratic Party’s nomination and changed our nation’s history.

As yet, I can only give a vague and stupid-sounding appreciation of what it meant to be there. I have not found the words that communicate clearly the awe I continue to feel. In time, my contemplation of the experience will yield thoughts and ideas I can share with others in meaningful ways. As Jefferson advised as the Bus returned to Portland, doing more in the spirit of the event — working to elect Obama and to expand democracy in our community — will give my feelings both substance and context. I won’t ever tire of savoring the emotions I felt and continue to feel. I will probably continue to say “Wow” to myself for the rest of my life.

Now, as I seek to heed Jeff’s advice and work to make Obama’s words a reality — I truly do believe we can be a better country and that I am a co-equal partner with him and the others in this work — I need to bring to my friends and others what it was to be there. I need to translate the experience of a few hours on an August evening in 2008 into ideas and possibilities of where we might go from here. Those who watched the speech on television actually got a better view, and a better sound system, than I did. They understand and appreciate the words he spoke every bit as well as I. Their absence from the stadium does not diminish their experience of that event one bit.

But they were absent; I was not. This is not against them for their absence but instead a responsibility I bear because I was one of those who stood with Barack Obama to challenge our nation’s past, present and future. While tens of millions of people watched (and continue to watch online) that tremendous speech, only a relative handful of us stood together with Obama at that moment, in that place, to hear his words and affirm them with our presence. We came to Denver to be with him in that time and place, and now we have returned home to continue the journey and finish the work of this campaign.

I have a responsibility to take my own experience of that moment in history and use it to build a better world for my two children and all others on this planet. That’s my responsibility, as one who was fortunate enough to be at Invesco on Thursday:

To bear witness.

By T.A. Barnhart Aug. 31, 2008