As a real-time thriller in which America is under attack by a terrorist network that, season after season, is disabled by the indestructible federal agent Jack Bauer, “24” has aptly been described as the ultimate in wish fulfillment. Yet no one talks about what, until very recently, seemed the show’s most fantastical element: its depiction of David Palmer, a noble, beloved, judicious man who also happened to be, in 2001, America’s first black president – and whose race was never, ever mentioned. By anyone. Ever.
“We wanted it to be the way Barack Obama‘s approaching it – we wanted his character to transcend race,” says “24” executive producer Evan Katz. “Even though no one [at that time] was thinking of Barack Obama, we were hopeful – perhaps prescient.”
African-American presidents have been depicted before as either literal jokes (Chris Rock in “Head of State”) or God-like and about to die anyway (Morgan Freeman in “Deep Impact”). “24,” however, torturously manipulates the audience’s anxiety hourly, with rhythmically calibrated precision, offering just two trustworthy characters: one is Bauer; the other was, until his assassination in Season 5, David Palmer, played by Dennis Haysbert.
So: Has “24” subliminally, subconsciously helped acclimate America to its (increasingly possible) first black president? Or, rather: its first president who may happen to be black?
“David Palmer had a huge impact on the country being open to an African-American president,” says D.B. Woodside, who plays David Palmer’s brother Wayne, the show’s second African-American president. “The way David was portrayed the first few seasons was beautiful – noble, charismatic, politically savvy. I think Barack echoes that strength.”
Interestingly, Woodside doesn’t think that the post-racial depiction of Palmer – which presaged Obama’s own post-racial campaign – was wishful thinking on the part of the show’s producers. In fact, Woodside thinks it was an accurate reading of the country’s nascent mood: “I find, with people under 30, race isn’t something that’s discussed,” he says. “I think that’s why you see Barack doing so well among the young. They’re so sick of people over 30 turning [race] into a talking point.”
Still, it’s not as though people over 30 enjoy discussing it either. “The media doesn’t want to touch [Obama’s race] with a 10-foot pole,” says Erika Molloseau, an assistant professor of communication at Denison University. “No one wants to be accused of being racist. And it’s not like you can say, ‘We have a black president! There’s no such thing as racism!’ You can’t make that leap.”
The fictional Palmer and the presentational Obama, says Molloseau, “give us an alternate embodiment of African-American masculinity: educated, well-poised, wholesome, almost too good to be true.” As she points out, African-Americans who seek to be the first in their fields – and, by necessity, accepted by mainstream white America – have to be beyond reproach: “It’s like Bill Cosby as ‘the bestest dad in the world!’ ” she says. “It’s all about subtext, and I think that’s what we get with Obama. One of his biggest flaws is that he smoked – not adultery, not wearing women’s underwear, but smoking. Obama has to maintain this pristine image.”
Woodside agrees. His own character was the scrawnier, weaker, less gifted brother, lacking David’s native political intelligence and decisiveness – Wayne was capable, but profoundly flawed. “If you look at someone like Bill Clinton – who I used to admire – he has so much baggage, but people were willing to overlook it because he was such a smart man. I think our first black president will be more similar to David Palmer. When we elect someone like Wayne, that’s when our country will be beyond race.”