Decision 2008

Is 'liberty awakening'? Painting by Seth Primcky

One question has haunted me in recent years: What does it mean to be a citizen, one of "we the people," in the U.S. today?

There are probably thousands of bloggers blogging about the runup to the elections, which have been ramped up and oversimplified by media for over a year now. I hope blogs will help with the public discourse.

Saturday I went to my Democratic caucuses for the second time – and this year even more people were there exercising their role as citizens. I was delighted to see so many young people, some even volunteering to be delegates.

My precinct recorded some 58 favoring Obama, 14 with Hillary, and 2 undecided.

Four years ago, this was my report from the 2004 caucuses:

What is it to be a citizen in the US today? I went to my Democratic caucus to find out.

In this strange time of living with complexity and discomfort – with a president who was not elected by a majority of the people, waging a war against a multi-faced, non-geographical enemy, a time where truth and news seem to have filed for a divorce – many of my fellow citizens also felt drawn to the caucus for the first time. In fact, nearly 900 of us flooded into the Vashon High School Commons.

There was a sense of excitement, of desperation, of belonging. I saw people I hadn’t seen in years; I saw neighbors I didn’t know existed. We were a little embarrassed that almost nobody really knew the rules, though we gradually figured it out. The experience was chaotic, puzzling. Why is it so hard to be a citizen?

We were asked to sign in twice – once on the master roll, and once on our precinct roll, where we were asked to declare for one of the candidates: Clark, Dean, Edwards, Kerry, Kucinich, or Sharpton. Or, it was OK to write “uncommitted.” Which is what I did.

A year ago, I felt strongly attracted to the ideas of Dennis Kucinich – whose plans for health care, education, defense, and a cabinet-level Department of Peace sounded refreshingly relevant and embodied the shift I feel is needed in many aspects of our culture. I also have watched the campaign of Howard Dean, and even sent him some money (a practice of citizenship which I question, especially since it usually goes to either paying for television ads over the airwaves that we the people own, or to soliciting me for more funds). I was excited by his hands-on experience in Vermont with everything from early childhood education to health care for all to civil unions for same-sex couples. The youthful energy of the Dean campaign – and the creative use of the Internet both to raise money and exchange ideas – seemed destined to breathe new life into the much-needed process of reinventing democracy for these times.

I’ve also admired John Kerry since my early days as a reporter when I was living in Boston and watched the highly decorated officer return from battle in Vietnam, only to fight against the war that he had just been fighting. His energy and intelligence seemed hopeful, and my journalistic colleagues sensed in him a future leader.

But today, in this early stage of the campaign, I wanted to register my support for the ideas of Kucinich, the zest and practicality of Dean, the record and electability (?) of Kerry, the refreshing honesty of Sharpton, and yet I also wanted to weigh in against back-room traditional corporate-driven party politics, where these days the Republicans and the Democrats are indistinguishable. Several people I admire, who have been ardent caucus-goers and political organizers in our community, were urging us to send delegates to the district and state conventions “uncommitted.” The reasons: to provide more flexibility and excitement, to register the perspective that any of these candidates could be good, but in the rough-and-tumble political process, and to leave Republicans guessing who the candidate will be.

In our precinct, we had people signing in for Edwards, Kerry, Dean, Kucinich. I didn’t see any Clark or Sharpton votes. As we all sat – or mostly stood – in the high school, one person was invited to speak for no more than three minutes on behalf of each of the candidates. When nobody was there to speak for John Edwards, a woman made her way to the microphone and spoke of his common-sense practicality. “I feel he speaks for me when he talks,” she said. No one spoke for Sharpton, who, of all the candidates, several friends said they’d rather have dinner with.

After the opening speeches, our precincts were to discuss the candidates, choose representatives to the district and state conventions, and consider any platform resolutions that people might want to bring to the table. There was so much din in the room that another precinct came to the area next to our table, and we needed to go out in the hall to hear each other.

We divided into subgroups of those supporting Dean, Kerry, and Kucinich. But since there were 50 of us there, the rules said you needed at least 15% in order to get a delegate for that candidate. The Kerry group was two shy of 8, the uncommitted group had 11, at first, and Dean and Kuchinich both had large followings. After much confusion, and several people moving back and forth to different groups, Kerry and Kucinich supporters lobbying the uncommitted group to help them get enough for two delegates, we learned that our precinct gets five delegages to the district caucuses and and state convention.

Ultimately, we used a formula that was supplied to the Precinct Chair, and we got: 2 delegates for Kucinich, 2 for Dean, and 1 uncommitted. Then we needed to choose who from among us would be the delegates and the alternates. Wow! There were those who really wanted to go, and the rest of us deferred to them. One guy couldn’t go on the date of the next meeting, May 10, so he asked if I would go in his place. It was a date that wouldn’t work for me, but it did make me think: what are my priorities? What would it be like?

(A friend told me he had gone to the caucuses in 1992 in order to put in a word for Jerry Brown – only to discover that most of Vashon Island supported Jerry Brown that year. He became a delegate, and said that after the precinct caucuses he felt the other levels didn’t really offer a place for many voices, that he became cynical about party politics as a result of that experience. Now he has children and he’s less likely to be able to go.)

After the delegates were chosen, our precinct regathered at the original table and read some proposed platform planks and resolution. One involved salmon habitat protection, and another proposed to reduce the number of delegates to the state convention which could be chosen by the elected representatives to the U.S. Congress. (It was said that they could choose up to 40% of those delegates, which seems anti-democratic.) The proposal was to limit the appointed delegates to 13%.

Then the entire group got back together, without as many people present, and other resolutions were read, including: adopt a single-payer health care system, don’t allow corporations the same legal rights as individuals, do a better job with sex education, including education about sexuality and sexual orientation. When the precinct delegates were added up, there were a majority of delegates for Dean, and slightly less for Kerry, quite a few for Kucinich, and one or two for Edwards and Clark.

The next day, President Bush was interviewed on Meet the Press by Tim Russert, who asked him about his military service, his tax cuts, his flinging us into war in Iraq. “Oh, that’s just political,” he kept saying of those who criticized him. Political? Yes! But it’s a political year. I talked politics with my neighbors for a few hours yesterday—for the first time. Political seems important at this time. And political can be truth. Can’t it?
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This year, it seems, there’s a big difference: people from various viewpoints are rallying behind the inspirational leadership of Obama. One guy said he was even more inspired by Michelle Obama than by her husband Barack. The caucus process seemed both simpler and more chaotic this year, probably because of the throngs.

Our caucus has spoken. Let’s see what happens.