You are responding to a cartoon version - or a Spike Lee version - of the real man. He did not become a great man at the end of his life. He was always a great man.

He did not represent a "sliver" of the populous.
His focus was on the plight of black people in America. That's true.

But if you follow the thought that improving the lot of those who are most oppressed in a society will result in the improving of the lives of everyone in society, you will see that his importance as a leader went beyond any racial boundaries.

He expressed the sentiments of, and referred to, Patrick Henry.

If you listen to interviews of Malcolm, you will hear someone speaking openly, candidly and in a manner that politicians do not. There is no hidden agenda. There is nothing concealed.
It is worth listening to. I say "listen" because there are subtleties and power that are in his voice and inflection that do not adequately carry over to the written word.

He was not a racist. He spoke the same way to white people that he did to black people. Today's politicians, including Obama, seldom if ever do that.

To give you another example: If the world put as a priority the welfare of children there would be no more war. Representing their interests would benefit all of humankind, not a mere sliver of the populace.

It is true that he did not run for office. But he might have, had he not been gunned down.

Obama's strategy everywhere before entering the White House was one of omnidirectional placation. It had always worked. Why should he abandon, at this point, a method of such proved effectiveness? Yet success at winning acceptance may not be what is called for in a leader moving through a time of peril. To disarm fears of change (the first African-­American presidency is, in itself, a big jolt of change), Obama has stressed continuity. Though he first became known as a critic of the war in Iraq, he has kept aspects or offshoots of Bush's war on terror -- possible future "renditions" (kidnappings on foreign soil), trials of suspected terrorists in military tribunals, no investigations of torture, an expanded Afghan commitment, though he promised to avoid "a dumb war." He appointed as his vice president and secretary of state people who voted for the Iraq war, and as secretary of defense and presiding generals people who conducted or defended that war.

To cope with the financial crisis, he turned to Messrs. Geithner, Summers and Bernanke, who were involved in fomenting the crisis. To launch reform of medical care, he huddled with the American Medical Association, big pharmaceutical companies and insurance firms, and announced that his effort had their backing (the best position to be in for stabbing purposes, which they did month after month). All these things speak to Obama's concern with continuity and placation. But continuity easily turns into inertia, as we found when Obama wasted the first year of his term, the optimum time for getting things done. He may have drunk his own Kool-Aid -- believing that his election could of itself usher in a post-racial, post-partisan, post-red-state and blue-state era. That is a change no one should ever have believed in. The price of winningness can be losing; and that, in this scary time, is enough to break the heart of hope.