Progressive Southerners haven't made much headway in our desire to nudge the region into the mainstream of American affairs. To do so, we will have to cross cultural barriers that keep normality out and us in.

Another reason we haven't broken out of our voluntary apartheid is that the voices of progress have been talking to the wrong people … ourselves.

In essence, that is the message I brought this weekend to an invitation-only gathering of men and women from throughout the South who met at Davidson College to see if they could design a "better South."

See what I mean? Here we go again, academics, authors, editors, current and former office holders, professionals of all stripes … talking to ourselves. And our message to the region's white majority is: "Shape Up!"

All those cops and carpenters and beauticians, farmers, filling-station owners and small-business people hearing or sensing a slight answer, "Who the hell are you to tell me to shape up? I'd take that from my drill instructor or my spouse, but not from somebody who doesn't know my culture or me."

I'll get to some thoughts about building a trusting relationship between progressives and the decisive majority, but first a visit to the boneyard of forward-looking efforts in the past.

Atlanta editor Henry Grady articulated the first New South movement in the late 19th century. His plan for a risen South was a marriage of Yankee capital with Southern management, labor and raw material. Such a marriage built the New South town of Anniston, but the South wasn't a good bet for most investors. Birmingham in 1938 was the scene of another New South rising when 1,500 delegates gathered to create the Southern Conference of Human Welfare. Distinguished delegates including Eleanor Roosevelt enjoyed a vision of a South healed and forgiven — for one night.

The next day, reality appeared in the barrel shape of the city's new police commissioner, Bull Conner, who famously said, "White and Negro may not segregate together." Under relentless attack by powerful conservatives, SCHW was a walking corpse by 1948.

In the 1970s, another New South movement emerged with the antique name, the L.Q.C. Lamar Society, which I led for three years but which was swamped by its own creation, the Southern Growth Policies Board, and one of its members, President Jimmy Carter. By 1980, Carter's presidency was finished and the last New South movement had fizzled.

And so, where are we now, and what are we to do?

We are in a state of political purgatory, taken for granted by the national Republican Party and shunned by Democrats who flinch from touching the toxic cultural belt that surrounds the Deep South.

There is no real two-party system in the crescent of states from South Carolina to Texas. We are effectively a no-party region and thus we are not a part of the normal discourse about crucial domestic and foreign-policy issues.

Opening a normal two-party dialogue in the South will require a Democratic president, Barack Obama, to undertake a "Nixon in China" mission to detoxify some of our most divisive cultural symbols.

From the perspective of 50 years as a liberal Southern journalist, I believe this conference can do no more important work than to begin a process that builds a climate of trust between the white South and the White House. In the absence of such a climate, a majority of Southerners will not listen to the president.

The process can begin only by his showing up in Atlanta or Birmingham or Jackson as naturally as appearances in Chicago or Boston. Telling the folks how happy he is to be here and what a good thing it is to be living in the South.

But the invitation hymn must be sung first, an event that requires dealing with tricky cultural symbols that seem so toxic but can be neutralized, even enjoyed without apology or embarrassment.

I can see Obama at a South-wide cultural conference in the Atlanta Civic Center flanked by the two Southern presidents, Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton, Sen. Jim Webb representing that chamber and Congressman John Lewis representing the House.

In his introduction of the president, Lewis says that his philosophy of the "Beloved Community" is wide enough to encompass black soul and white soul, too … that all people deserve respect and the enjoyment of their heritage.

An expectant crowd of Southerners, some hopeful, others hostile, are surprised to hear a Democratic president, especially the first black president, calmly, poetically speak of unifying possibilities in a symbol that had seemed so polarizing.

"I am reminded again," he begins, "that we are one undivided America, that the honored dead at Gettysburg wore blue AND gray; they fought under different flags that deserve honor and respect but are equal inheritors of one America, indivisible.

"It is good that people set aside quiet, peaceful places to remind us that even in defeat, there was nobility of character, that the men who fought under such leaders represent universal values of courage, honor and loyalty. Cultural symbols speak to people of important events that happened to them along the way. They should never be dishonored as symbols of hate."

Cultural conciliation could begin with such a speech. If a national coming together is ever achieved — a lifelong dream — I will tell the Lord, "You can take me now, but before you do, let me enjoy the feeling for awhile." Amen.

Brandt Ayers is publisher of The Anniston Star.