"It's nothing personal...I just think you're nuts." -My thoughts as I cast my ballot tonight
I love going to caucus meetings. For awhile now, my dad's been the chair in our precinct, and so from before the time I could vote, I was forced to be involved. There was no question about my going tonight--even when my roommate had tickets to the Jazz game, and offered me one.
When I got to the elementary school where the meeting was to be held, there were three other people in the room, but by the time it was over, there were probably twenty. That was a lot for this precinct, although if you think about the fact that there are over a thousand people in the precinct, it becomes somewhat sad.
The main topic of discussion: Orrin Hatch. For the most part, the people running for state delegate (ie the people who get to go to the state convention and actually vote for who the Republican candidates in the national senate and congress, and the state governor races will be) seemed to hold a similar opinion to my own: he's been there more than long enough. We need some new blood; on the other hand, though, change simply for the sake of change brings...well, it usually doesn't bring good change. I chose not to run (sorry, Dad), because it seemed like a couple of the candidates were very reasonable, thinking, not crazy people.
And then there was the guy next to me.
Let me preface this: unlike most of the people there, I actually did do some homework before I went into the meeting. Most of the candidates against Hatch are running a straight "No excuses! No compromise! Ammend the constitution to make our way the only way!" campaign; while I think their intentions are good, most of them downright scared me with how extremist they were. Even if they didn't, I'm experienced enough with people (believe it or not, I do talk to them sometimes) to realize that a "my way or the highway" approach never wins out unless it's backed by total fear of what "the highway" actually entails. This is especially a problem considering that the main concern in voting out Hatch is the loss of what clout he's gained by being in office so long (clout that a brand new senator from Utah who refuses to even listen to other people probably won't ever have).
So, when the guy sitting next to me started his pitch for delegacy with something along the lines of "So and so mentioned wanting to pick people who can compromise, but isn't compromise essentially selling out our values? I really like how some of the candidates running against Hatch really aren't going to compromise." the little red lights started flashing in my mind, and the words of my father (if you don't run for state delegate, some crazy person will!) rang in my ears. Because the thing is, I don't really want to elect crazy, unreasonable people, no matter what they say they'll do; I'm much more comfortable voting for someone who is reasonable and not ready to sell what we have right now up the river for any kind of "change".
Then, on top of everything else, when they handed out our slips, and instructed us to write down our vote, he leans over to me, making me feel like he's going to read my ballot, and says "So, you're going to vote for me, right?" I'm not sure if he was trying to pressure me, or if he was really just that deluded, that he felt like a sure winner. Either way, my reply was, "It's a secret ballot." Which, of course, meant, "No, I'm voting for one of the three other people who isn't a nutter..."
It's interesting to me, really, the way that we can get so caught up in trying to do what we feel is right that sometimes we forget that we're human, and we can make mistakes. I had a conversation with a friend recently, in the which he argued that it's a good thing to be "stubbornly righteous." He meant by that that we ought to be unwilling to yield when someone tries to get us to do something wrong, which I agreed with, but it scares me when people think that way.
See, I just finished reading The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis (I highly recommend it), and I've been reading in Mormon and Ether in The Book of Mormon; the message I've been getting from all of them is embodied by Lewis's words, "There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom God says in the end, 'Thy will be done.' All that are in Hell choose it." (pg 75 in the Barnes and Noble Edition) or in Isaiah's, "Wo be unto him that shall say:...we have enough!" (as quoted in 2 Ne 28:29). There's strength in coming together, and hashing out a problem to get the best solution (or at least a really good one, since engineering school keeps teaching me that most solution sets are infinite), even if that really just means going with the idea that you had to begin with. Sometimes, it's the tiniest tweaks to a plan that really make the difference.
And I guess that was what the caucus was really about. We got together as members of a community, and we sat and discussed for a while about what we really felt like needed to happen. Then we set things in motion to make them happen. It turns out that we're not alone; we have communities, and we can get together, and make stuff happen, if we'd all just get over our "I have to be a hero and do it alone" syndrome. There's a time and a place for that, but where there are others genuinely trying to work for the same stuff as us, that's just crazy talk. I, for one, feel a little more like I have some real power in this democracy thing.
Author's note: if you want to talk to me about politics, my first question from now on will be "Did you go to your caucus?"
I love going to caucus meetings. For awhile now, my dad's been the chair in our precinct, and so from before the time I could vote, I was forced to be involved. There was no question about my going tonight--even when my roommate had tickets to the Jazz game, and offered me one.
When I got to the elementary school where the meeting was to be held, there were three other people in the room, but by the time it was over, there were probably twenty. That was a lot for this precinct, although if you think about the fact that there are over a thousand people in the precinct, it becomes somewhat sad.
The main topic of discussion: Orrin Hatch. For the most part, the people running for state delegate (ie the people who get to go to the state convention and actually vote for who the Republican candidates in the national senate and congress, and the state governor races will be) seemed to hold a similar opinion to my own: he's been there more than long enough. We need some new blood; on the other hand, though, change simply for the sake of change brings...well, it usually doesn't bring good change. I chose not to run (sorry, Dad), because it seemed like a couple of the candidates were very reasonable, thinking, not crazy people.
And then there was the guy next to me.
Let me preface this: unlike most of the people there, I actually did do some homework before I went into the meeting. Most of the candidates against Hatch are running a straight "No excuses! No compromise! Ammend the constitution to make our way the only way!" campaign; while I think their intentions are good, most of them downright scared me with how extremist they were. Even if they didn't, I'm experienced enough with people (believe it or not, I do talk to them sometimes) to realize that a "my way or the highway" approach never wins out unless it's backed by total fear of what "the highway" actually entails. This is especially a problem considering that the main concern in voting out Hatch is the loss of what clout he's gained by being in office so long (clout that a brand new senator from Utah who refuses to even listen to other people probably won't ever have).
So, when the guy sitting next to me started his pitch for delegacy with something along the lines of "So and so mentioned wanting to pick people who can compromise, but isn't compromise essentially selling out our values? I really like how some of the candidates running against Hatch really aren't going to compromise." the little red lights started flashing in my mind, and the words of my father (if you don't run for state delegate, some crazy person will!) rang in my ears. Because the thing is, I don't really want to elect crazy, unreasonable people, no matter what they say they'll do; I'm much more comfortable voting for someone who is reasonable and not ready to sell what we have right now up the river for any kind of "change".
Then, on top of everything else, when they handed out our slips, and instructed us to write down our vote, he leans over to me, making me feel like he's going to read my ballot, and says "So, you're going to vote for me, right?" I'm not sure if he was trying to pressure me, or if he was really just that deluded, that he felt like a sure winner. Either way, my reply was, "It's a secret ballot." Which, of course, meant, "No, I'm voting for one of the three other people who isn't a nutter..."
It's interesting to me, really, the way that we can get so caught up in trying to do what we feel is right that sometimes we forget that we're human, and we can make mistakes. I had a conversation with a friend recently, in the which he argued that it's a good thing to be "stubbornly righteous." He meant by that that we ought to be unwilling to yield when someone tries to get us to do something wrong, which I agreed with, but it scares me when people think that way.
See, I just finished reading The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis (I highly recommend it), and I've been reading in Mormon and Ether in The Book of Mormon; the message I've been getting from all of them is embodied by Lewis's words, "There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom God says in the end, 'Thy will be done.' All that are in Hell choose it." (pg 75 in the Barnes and Noble Edition) or in Isaiah's, "Wo be unto him that shall say:...we have enough!" (as quoted in 2 Ne 28:29). There's strength in coming together, and hashing out a problem to get the best solution (or at least a really good one, since engineering school keeps teaching me that most solution sets are infinite), even if that really just means going with the idea that you had to begin with. Sometimes, it's the tiniest tweaks to a plan that really make the difference.
And I guess that was what the caucus was really about. We got together as members of a community, and we sat and discussed for a while about what we really felt like needed to happen. Then we set things in motion to make them happen. It turns out that we're not alone; we have communities, and we can get together, and make stuff happen, if we'd all just get over our "I have to be a hero and do it alone" syndrome. There's a time and a place for that, but where there are others genuinely trying to work for the same stuff as us, that's just crazy talk. I, for one, feel a little more like I have some real power in this democracy thing.
Author's note: if you want to talk to me about politics, my first question from now on will be "Did you go to your caucus?"
It does a father's heart good to hear his own words repeated in his son's mind when he's faced with a choice between a "nutter" and an "only semi-crazed fanatic" :-) . It also does me good to know that all those years of example helps him make the better choice.
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