When Barack Obama announced he would be the keynote speaker at last weekí¢â‚¬â„¢s commemorative march in Selma, Alabama, to mark the 42nd anniversary of the 1965 Selma-to-Montgomery civil rights march, a key moment in the struggle for civil rights in the southern United States, it was only a matter of time before rival Democratic hopeful Hilary Clinton countered with a keynote speech of her own.

Ostensibly an event to celebrate the original civil rights activists who marched in the 1960s, it quickly became clear that the dayí¢â‚¬â„¢s events were very much about present-day politics. Senators Obama and Clinton delivered their speeches to packed houses at two downtown churches within a stoneí¢â‚¬â„¢s throw from each other. Obama spoke at the American Methodist Evangelical (A.M.E.) Church, outside of which stands a monument to the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., with the rather unfortunate typo, í¢â‚¬Å“I had a dreamí¢â‚¬  in place of Kingí¢â‚¬â„¢s famous í¢â‚¬Å“I have a dream.í¢â‚¬  This typo í¢â‚¬“ or massive misinterpretation, depending on your perspective í¢â‚¬“ seemed to be the perfect backdrop to an event that verged on forgetting its purpose on a number of occasions.

Fears that the day would turn into a media circus turned out to be justified. The tension between the traditional purpose of this annual civil rights gathering in Selma and the political circus that accompanied the presence of the Presidential race hopefuls was palpable. After Obamaí¢â‚¬â„¢s speech a rally was held at which a number of notable figures from the 1960s civil rights movement and its modern incarnation made appearances. At the circus end of the spectrum, the í¢â‚¬Å“newí¢â‚¬  Black Panther party attempted to make the most of the opportunity presented by the pre-march rally. Malik Zulu Shabazz certainly looked the part on the podium but botched his opportunity by turning his two minutes into a fiery political speech. Of course, the violence associated with the original Black Panther party, and the anti-Semitism for which the new party has gained the attention of the Anti-Defamation League in the States, did not exactly lend credence to their cause. Instead of appearing to be true supporters of Obama and heirs of the cause of non-violent resistance, the í¢â‚¬Å“newí¢â‚¬  Panthers appeared to be very much children of the MTV generation, dressed up for the event in neo-fascist uniforms, while sporting sunglasses and haircuts reminiscent of a Jay Z CD release party than a political event.

Past and present were much better represented in the truly memorable figures from the original march. John Lewis, a native of Troy, Alabama was present on that fateful day, on 7 March, 1965. Lewis, now a Congressman for the state of Georgia, reminded the crowd that, even though forty-two years ago African-Americans made up 80% of the population of Dallas County not one was a registered voter, thanks to devices like the famous í¢â‚¬Å“literacy testí¢â‚¬  which asked potential voters questions like how many bubbles there were in a bar of soap or jelly beans in a jar. Most poignantly, he also recalled hearing the police in Selma saying í¢â‚¬Å“troopers advanceí¢â‚¬  and described being beaten to within an inch of his life.

With that, Obama was ready to take his place at the podium.

His speech was a brilliantly constructed piece of oratory that linked the goals and aspirations of the 1960s movement for civil rights with the 21st century need for economic and social rights for African-Americans and other minority groups, particularly women and Hispanics. Obama used the theme of the so-called í¢â‚¬Å“Joshua generationí¢â‚¬  to issue his call to action, calling on todayí¢â‚¬â„¢s youth to follow in the footsteps of the 1960s í¢â‚¬Å“Moses generation,í¢â‚¬  and he called on todayí¢â‚¬â„¢s Joshuas to use what previous generations had worked towards in order to achieve todayí¢â‚¬â„¢s economic and social goals.

It was then time for the march. There was a moment at the beginning, however, just as we started to ebb our way downtown, that a ripple of excitement moved through the crowd, as people became distracted by something on the sidelines. Rather than move forward, people stopped and turned around, and it seemed that even before it had started, the march was over. The cause of the disruption quickly became clear: a flurry of activity moved through the crowd as Bill Clinton made his way briskly to the front of the line, where he joined his wife and the other political and civil rights leaders. Three African-American women in front of me sensed the disruption and began to sing, í¢â‚¬Å“move forward, keep on moviní¢â‚¬â„¢.í¢â‚¬  The timing and lyrics of their song couldní¢â‚¬â„¢t have been better chosen. The crowd heard them and reacted instantly, smiling and nodding, singing along and clapping í¢â‚¬“ and then began to move forward once again. The moment was fleeting, but it was nevertheless a poignant symbol of the politicization of yet another iconic American moment.