What Would Bobby Do?

The spirit of RFK is in the air. His name frequently comes up referentially; his haunting image appears on popular magazine covers. It is because many people are stirred by the Barack Obama campaign in ways that RFK moved them four decades ago. I worked for RFK then, as a prosecutor in the Justice Department and a speechwriter in his later political campaign, and I share that feeling of excitement about Sen. Obama’s (D-Ill.) campaign.

The Kennedys have publicly declared their presidential politics for 2008, most for Sen. Obama, a few for Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-N.Y.). As Garry Trudeau’s “Doonesbury” cartoon characters facetiously noted, there so many Kennedys, but Obama can unite them. I believe I know how RFK would vote today.

RFK was a work in progress when, running for the presidency, he was killed. But his charismatic personality and message then is comparable to Sen. Obama’s now. RFK was denied his chance, so we cannot know what he might have accomplished. Sen. Obama’s campaign offers another opportunity to change the face and nature of American politics.

Comparing Obama’s personal magnetism and exciting oratory with her practical experience, Hillary Clinton used an interesting metaphor — would his prose in governing match the poetry of his campaign? That distinction is what is at the heart of the difference between these two competing candidates, but not in the way Sen. Clinton intended. In the context of politics, the metaphor Sen. Clinton suggested was that professional competence and prior experience should win over inspiration and charisma. As if the two could not be found within one candidate. In Obama, as with RFK, they come together.

Who inspires the best in us is a matter of poetry, and all the speechwriters, spinners and advisers in the world cannot package that exquisite quality. Neither issues nor experience is what the present political battle will turn on. (In fact, it is a dangerous issue for Sen. Clinton to raise in view of the notorious Clinton administration scandals, and her failure with healthcare reform when she had the chance to do something.)

Whatever issues the debates center on today, those facing the next president can never be known in advance. JFK and Nixon debated about Quemoy and Matsu; but the former won a close race because he was a more charismatic individual, a more winning public figure compared to the better-known Nixon. The overriding issue for President Bush — Sept. 11 — had not even happened when he first ran. Thus, the American public must choose in advance on the basis of their faith in and connection with the persona of one candidate. And here is where Obama’s poetry eclipses Sen. Clinton’s prose.

Watching Sen. Barack Obama captivate cheering crowds, I am reminded of comparable experiences in Robert F. Kennedy’s campaigns in 1964 and 1968. I have stood amidst throngs of excited people mobbing and clamoring at candidate RFK. I’ve witnessed the same feverish phenomenon at Sen. Obama’s public appearances. Like RFK then and unlike any politician since, Barack Obama projects the same special political romance, youthful energy and popular magnetism, which connects in a real and palpable way with the diversity and democracy of America.

The differences between RFK and Obama are stark and obvious. But their similarities are more compelling than their differences. Both RFK and Obama projected the same sense that they were unique, not doctrinaire, driven by an inner force, comfortable in their skin, unafraid to face the special challenges of their times. Others, more patient, more experienced, more programmed, came after RFK and before Obama. But no politician in the last four decades has created comparable popular electricity, the sense that they were destined to lead the country in coping with its deepest, most demanding needs.

Like Obama, RFK had to step over powerful political figures in the party who considered their claims to the presidency more deserving. Both men appeal, uniquely, across racial, cultural, even partisan divides in America, argued against an unpopular war, and appeal to observers who have lost faith in America’s traditional leadership and fundamental goodness. Both deal easily with the media. Both appeal especially to activist young voters, and to the country’s optimism and energy. I believe both men were uniquely destined for their times, called for by the politics of their day to blur distinctions between black and white people, red and blue states, and to find common cause on the most compelling issues.

Forty years later, Obama, like RFK, speaks to America’s hopes and ideals. His idealistic adventure in popular government is the poetry of this campaign, and America is responding to it.

Ronald Goldfarb is a Washington, D.C., attorney and author of Perfect Villains, Imperfect Heroes: Robert F. Kennedy’s Fight Against Organized Crime, published by Random House and Capital Books and recently optioned for a movie. He is a supporter of Sen. Obama.