A Rational Animal

Photo from official Edwards campaign Web site.

Dear Senator Edwards:

I thought long and hard about whether even to bother posting this letter, in light of the news that you’re dropping out of the presidential race.  Sadly, Ralph Nader has made up my mind for me, and so I’m going to post it anyway.

Over the past few days, I have posted similar letters to your remaining opponents for the Democratic presidential nomination - with one fundamental difference:  My letters to Senators Clinton and Obama explained why, to my great disappointment, I could not vote for either of them in our state caucus.  In your case, I did cast my vote for you - and am now faced with the prospect that doing so was as much a wasted vote as it would have been had I cast it for Bill Richardson or for "Uncommitted." 

I awoke yesterday morning to the news that your last-minute detour to New Orleans today to give a speech on poverty would in fact be the speech in which you announced your withdrawal from the race.  A part of me is extremely sympathetic to such a decision:  Thanks in large part to our corrupt media and Beltway establishment’s insistent Dean-ing of your entire campaign, it has seemed clear for the last couple of weeks that it would be impossible for you to catch up with the anointed "frontrunners."  I say "seemed," because our establishment’s conventional wisdom is only accurate when that establishment manages to shove it down the collective throat of a reluctant electorate until it chokes, gives in, and gives the Villagers what they demand.

However, it’s clear that making up the delegate deficit, to say nothing of the money chase, would have been difficult, to say the least.  And I’m very sympathetic to your family’s personal situation:   Facing the prospect of losing your wife to an incurable form of cancer, and likely sooner rather than later, no one can fault you on a purely personal level for wishing to spend as much time with her and your children as possible for the foreseeable future.  Admittedly, if my husband had received such a diagnosis, I would have made the decision to withdraw immediately; I can’t imagine making any choice but to spend my time with him under such circumstances.  But I can also understand Elizabeth’s desire to have you continue, and thus, your desire to comply with her wishes. 

But although I cast my vote for you, it was not without grave reservations.  I will freely admit that, when you first ran for the presidency in 2004, I did not care for you or for your candidacy.  I was disappointed when John Kerry chose you as his running mate; of the likely choices for that spot, I thought you were the weakest candidate.  And when you announced your decision to run again this year, the prospect didn’t exactly thrill me.  (I harbored similar feelings about you, Senator Clinton, and Senator Obama, and frankly still do:  that each of you might well make an outstanding president, but that for each of you, your time was not yet.) 

Of course, my own biases in this race have been obvious from the beginning:  I enthusiastically backed Bill Richardson, and I still believe that, in our country’s current circumstances, he would have made the best president of all of the initial pool of candidates.  Possibly the only [unfortunately, non-] candidate who could have persuaded me otherwise would have been Russ Feingold.  But there’s never been a question that I would back the eventual Democratic nominee, and I certainly believed that every one of the Democratic candidates (yes, including Mike Gravel) would have been a vast improvement over any of the Republican candidates, to say nothing of the current squatter in the Oval Office.

This leads me to the following point:  I understand well why so many people have distrusted your candidacy.  And I’ve found your inability to understand it as well to be amazingly tin-eared.  It was obvious, early on, that among the top three candidates, you were the media establishment’s chosen target for the Dean Treatment.  Why, then, would you provide these contemptibly shallow talking heads with the sort of high-fat, low-nutrition fodder on which they daily make gluttons of themselves?  The haircut.  The house.  The slick plaintiff’s-lawyer approach to speeches.  Yes, I realize that none of these attacks is particularly legitimate, or fair, but have the last sixteen years taught you (and our other candidates) nothing about the rules of the game with regard to our chattering classes?  The rules only apply to Democrats; Republicans get a pass (or, as in the case of Bush, and now McCain, an actual rewriting of history).

Moreover, I’ve been gravely disappointed in your campaign’s focus.  Yes, there most certainly are "two Americas."  Yes, poverty is one of the signature moral issues of our time.  Yes, the working class is getting royally screwed, every day, in every possible context.  But those are not the only - not even the worst - issues this nation faces in the macro- context.  This nation faces nothing less than its complete destruction - from within, by the very people who tout themselves as our "public officials" and who are nothing more nor less than traitors.  Our reputation is a shambles.  The Constitution, our one truly sacred text, no longer exists, at least for all practical purposes.  And the chasms separating our "two Americas," riven by poverty, widens daily from the erosion of the rule of law and any notion of equality before it.  For my vote for you to have been enthusiastic, I would have needed to see you make ending our illegal "war" in Iraq, the repeal of the Orwellian U.S.A. Patriot Act, and restoration of the Constitution and the rule of law your top priorities.  Instead, your relentless focus on economic issues came across as utter pandering - and in many ways, pandering to our basest us-against-them instincts.

Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate the fact that your message has improved in recent months.  I also appreciate your "anger," as the media love to call it:  Today, anger is a selling point, not a fault.  After the last eight years, anyone who is not angry - indeed, who has not long ago crossed the Rubicon of outrage - either has not been paying attention or is morally bankrupt, neither of which is acceptable in a public official.

There has been one aspect of your anger that has troubled me, however.  Your fury at our corrupt and corrupting system is admirable; your fury at your fellow candidates is not.  I understand that much of your rage is undoubtedly born of frustration:  at a media that has deliberately worked to torpedo your candidacy, purely to ensure the identity-politics smackdown it preferred; at your opponents for taking such a safe and shallow approach and still apparently benefiting from the lack of substance.  But your anger toward them - particularly toward Senator Clinton - has manifested in petty attacks that are beneath you.  The obvious example is your unfortunate response to reports that Senator Clinton had "cried" (which, of course, was not what happened); they appeared not merely ungracious, but overtly sexist.  Your increasingly personal attacks on her during the debates had a similar effect:  It was clear to anyone watching that you loathed her and her husband and would oppose her candidacy with every fiber of your being.  Perhaps that has now changed, but I doubt it; that sort of distaste and disrespect is difficult to put aside at this late date.

I was also disheartened that, after coming this far, and with Super Tuesday less than a week away, you were quitting.  Yes, I know that it’s incredibly expensive, and that the odds are incredibly long.  But with six days - six days! - to go, and access to a private fortune, I believe that your owed your supporters at least one more week.  I held out hope that you would persevere, if only to secure as many delegates as possible to use as leverage at the convention.

Of course, as usual, the media are failing in their reporting of your withdrawal.  I learned this morning from The New York Observer that you’re not actually "dropping out," but "suspending" your campaign.  The distinction matters greatly, since it means that you will retain control of your existing delegates, plus any additional delegates you may earn between now and the convention.  And I wish you had gone to some lengths to ensure that your supporters understood that.

I hope that, from this point forward, you will do the right thing.  I hope that you will continue to retain those delegates.  I hope that you will refrain from making any endorsement.  And come the convention, I hope that you will use your delegates, and your considerable persuasive powers, like a bludgeon, to ensure that whichever candidate is the nominee addresses the issues about which you have spoken so eloquently.  Then my vote - and those of hundreds of thousands of others - will not have been in vain.

Sincerely,

Lilith Devlin

[Ed. note:  Links to follow added.]

Photo from official Obama campaign Web site

Dear Senator Obama:

Yesterday I posted an open letter to your chief opponent, Senator Clinton, outlining the reasons why I could not in good conscience cast my vote for her in the primary election.  Today, I post a similar letter to you.

As I noted in my letter to Senator Clinton, should you be the Democratic Party’s nominee, I will indeed vote for you.  At the moment, however, that is not the question:  The question is why, among the Democratic candidates for the most powerful office on earth, I should cast my primary vote for you and not for one of your opponents.  I have concluded that, at the moment, I cannot.

You and I actually have met, although you won’t remember it.  It was some six or seven years ago, when you were still in the Illinois Statehouse, at a conference in the Midwest.  A long-time friend and colleague who had volunteered for your campaign pulled me aside and said, "There’s someone I want you to meet.  He’s a real up-and-comer in Illinois, and I really want you to meet him.  I really think this guy might be our first black president."

When he introduced us, I immediately thought, "He’s right."  One of the first things I noticed was that, like your opponent’s husband, you had that indefinable IT:  that utterly natural gift for politics that allowed you to work a room efficiently and effectively, while still making every single person in it feel like the only one in the room - and the only one on your radar - as you spoke to him or her.  I felt it even as I recognized it for what it was.  It’s charisma, yes, but it’s something more.

During the conference itself, I was impressed still further to hear you speak.  You made a couple of statements that, while not remotely radical, still evinced a willingness to take on certain powerful interests that were represented by those in attendance.  But the truly striking aspect of your presentation had nothing to do with what you said, but rather, with the audience’s reaction to it.  As you spoke in that deep, mellifluous voice (what an acquaintance calls a "radio-announcer’s voice," harking back to radio’s Golden Era), I watched a visible, audible wave ripple through and settle over the entire room.  Every heart - male and female - went pitty-pat; they hung on your every word.  Afterward, most couldn’t tell me what you had said; they were so taken with your oratory that the substance (or lack thereof) was utterly irrelevant to them.

And this concerns me deeply.  Because if the last eight years have shown us anything at all, they have shown us the clear virtues of substance.

Don’t get me wrong; I do not count myself in the camp that believes you to be all style and no substance.  I know there’s plenty of substance there.  I have no doubts whatsoever about the depth of your intelligence and your ability to master policy issues.  And I do think - particularly in the era of the 24-hour news cycle, driven almost wholly by media-created and -inflated sound bites - that charisma, oratorical skills, and an ability to inspire people have become essential for those who seek our highest office.  But what concerns me is that your campaign is driven largely by these skill sets, and not by a serious contemplation of our greatest policy challenges, nor a realistic view of how to solve them.

First, the analogy that will undoubtedly provoke shrieks of outrage:  In the years leading up to World War II, many of Germany’s shrewdest, most intelligent leaders and scholars noted a phenomenon that none had ever experienced before.  In attending speeches given by a previously-unknown ex-con named Adolf Hitler, they found themselves utterly transported by his oratorical gifts.  They left his speeches feeling inspired, able to accomplish anything.  But then, when someone asked what Hitler had actually said - not the rah-rah feel-good parts, but the actual substance - they couldn’t remember anything.  These were not stupid people; they were not naive or unworldly.  They were accustomed to separating the wheat from the chaff.  And they were truly shocked to discover that they were, at a visceral level, following blindly a man who delivered a steady diet of nothing but chaff.

Before anyone invokes Godwin’s Law, let me be clear:  I am in no way comparing you to Hitler.  The comparison that I am making is between the self-described reactions of those self-aware, cosmopolitan Germans of the 1930s and the decidely un-self-aware reactions of too many people who count themselves Obama acolytes.  It is disturbing to me that we teeter at the most dangerous precipice in our nation’s history, and I am told repeatedly by the supporters [see comments at link] of one of the two leading Democratic candidates that the substance "doesn’t matter" - that "what matters is that he’ll bring this country together."

Well, no.

We are long past the era when bipartisanship for its own sake can be counted a virtue, and paeans to some nebulous "unity" leave me cold.  The job you seek is much more difficult than that - and it should be.  The Founders were well aware of the dangers of factionalism, but they were equally aware of the dangers of the tyranny of the majority, and they put their faith in the virtues of competing interests.  We face a turning point in our nation’s history:  one that could herald our rise, phoenix-like, from the ashes of eight years of criminal activity and moral obscenity, but one that could just as easily see the demise not only of our status as superpower but of the American experiment in its entirety.  As we face down a grindingly difficult list of tasks small and great to raise America from the pit into which she has been thrown by those whose interests and priorities run directly counter to mine and hundreds of millions of other Americans, appeals to unity and bipartisanship ring distinctly hollow.

I have also been gravely disappointed in some of the tactical choices you have made in your campaign.  Individually, no one of them is fatal; taken together, they seem to form a picture of a dangerous tendency to cherry-pick issues and frame them in a way that will be palatable to the mind-set of those on the other side of the aisle.

Take your comments on Social Security "reform":  Most reputable experts agree that they are wrong on the substance, and they seem designed to appeal directly to the Republican/conservative mindset.  But what is more troubling is the fact that you made them immediately after issuing your challenge to the media, announcing that you would be "aggressively" highlighting your differences with the Clinton campaign and with Senator Clinton’s record.  If that were the case, why pick Social Security "reform?"  Why pick a distinctly wonky issue that holds no immediate relevance for the vast majority of voters, rather than one that captures their attention and underscores truly fundamental differences between you?  Say, the AUMF for the Iraq war, or the passage of the misnamed U.S.A. Patriot Act?  I would have suggested Senator Clinton’s vote to declare Iran’s army a terrorist organization, but I understand why you might not want to bring that up, since you couldn’t be bothered to be present to cast your own vote.

And while we’re on the subject of the Iraq war, let’s address one issue head-on.  Yes, it’s true that the Clinton campaign has distorted some of your words on the matter.  But it’s also true that you have engaged in a bit of distortion yourself.  And let’s be clear:  It’s very easy to say, "I opposed the Iraq war from the start," when you did so from the safety of Illinois Statehouse.  But suppose you had been in the U.S. Senate at the time:  Would you really have stood with Russ Feingold and risk being labeled a traitor and a terrorist-lover?  Or would you have done as Senator Clinton did, and chosen the politically expedient route?  Your record of missing crucial votes, and failing to take a strong and principled stand on issues of constitutional enormity such as the first attempt at expanding FISA and granting sweeping immunity to telecoms, suggest to me that, had you been in Senator Clinton’s shoes in 2003, you might very well have voted exactly as she did.  Her vote was inexcusable, yes - but facile statements from someone not in anything approaching the same position at the time are a bit unconvincing.

I’m also troubled by your reference to Ronald Reagan as a catalyst for change, particularly coupled with your dismissal of Bill Clinton in the same context.  I understand your larger point:  Reagan sparked a conservative groundswell in American politics, giving us such [hollow, meaningless] phrases as "Reagan Revolution."  Clinton, on the other hand, gave us incremental change, without a sweeping, panoramic vista of a liberal political society. 

But such a distinction is fundamentally flawed and inherently unfair - and you know it. 

Reagan accomplished little on his own - his acolytes have turned his tenure into something it manifestly was not - and likewise accomplished little that was positive.  Clinton was hamstrung for virtually his entire term by a rabid Republican Congress and a Beltway and media establishment driven to see him fail - and, failing that, to force him to fail, by hook or by crook.  And yet, Bill Clinton, even after his recent missteps, remains a rock star.  I think most of America, at this point, would gladly give him a third term in office, were it possible to do so.

But you know all this.  So let’s be honest:  There was one reason, and one reason only, that you included him with Richard Nixon as an example of a president who did not "create change" - you did it as a slap at Hillary Clinton, because you were angry at her campaign’s questioning of your record.  It was petty.  It was childish.  And it was beneath you.

And that brings me to another aspect of your candidacy that disturbs me greatly.  Josh Marshall referred briefly to this the other day:  the notion among too many of your supporters - and, indeed, too many members of your campaign - seem to regard you as, in Josh’s words, "too precious a flower plant" to withstand the hurly-burly of democracy. 

And, yes, that’s what this is.  Democracy is messy, and often uncomfortable, and frequently even unpleasant, and anyone who is not prepared to deal head-on with those realities should not run for public office.  I don’t care how "inspirational" or "unifying" or, God forbid, "transcendent" a candidate is - I want to hear a full-throated airing of policy disagreements. 

In our party, we’ve acquiesced to this asinine narrative that any criticism of a fellow candidate is an "attack," and therefore beyond the pale. 

That’s crap.

Attacks on one another’s records - if presented honestly - are not only legitimate; they should be welcomed, indeed, encouraged by every voter.  Candidates need to underscore such policy differences so that we can winnow our options based on substantive consideration and make truly informed choices.  Criticism of one’s record or one’s policy views is part and parcel of our system, or at least it should be.  And if a candidate is not man or woman enough - and/or possesses a record or positions that are truly so shoddy - that s/he cannot withstand this basic scrutiny, then that candidate manifestly does not belong in elective politics.

This brings me to my final point:  Cut the talk of "transcendence."  I don’t want a transcendent candidate.  I want a candidate who is clear-eyed and focused on the dangerous challenges that face out nation.  And I want a candidate whose supporters back him or her precisely because they know exactly what that person’s positions are, and what that person will do as president - not because of some vague, amorphous sense that this person is somehow "above it all" and will magically return us to a Golden Era that never remotely existed. 

You’re a brilliant and talented person, with a great deal to offer your country.  Please get your feet back on the ground - and persuade your backers to do likewise - and give us real, concrete reasons to believe that you truly can take this nation where it needs to go.  And then voters like me, who have long dreamed of voting into office our first African American president, will pull that lever with your name on it not merely perfunctorily, but with enthusiasm and joy . . . and even hope.

Sincerely,

Lilith Devlin

[Ed. note:  Links to follow added.  Up next:  An open letter to John Edwards.] 

"Official headshot" from the Clinton campaign Web site 

Dear Senator Clinton:

It was with great pride that I pulled the lever labeled with your name on that cold, gray New York day in 2000.  I was delighted that you had taken the political plunge for yourself - and, more, that you had chosen to do it in my own state.  I had cheered as you faced down bullying frat boy Rick Lazio at the debate, and although I lamented the squishy name of your "listening tour," I applauded your diligence, tenacity, and commitment to those of us who would be your future constituents.

You and I have never met; the closest we’ve come is passing each other on the concourse at National Airport some years ago, you with your phalanx of aides and Secret Service agents, and me accompanied by my solitary laptop bag.  In the interests of full disclosure, however, I should note that I did once e-mail you:  It was 1998, and you had just done a second day on the morning talk shows defending your husband and citing the "vast right-wing conspiracy" - which did, of course, exist.  I was so impressed with your composure and dignity that I felt compelled to dash off a quick note of support . . . and was pleasantly surprised, five months later, to find an envelope in my mailbox with your office as the return address, containing a personal letter of thanks from you.

That letter told me more than I realized at the time.

Back in 1998, I was fed up with Dole and Gingrich and the other Beltway obstructionist hypocrites, and with Limbaugh and the whole sorry lot of slanderous shock-jock ranters.  I was fed up with a political and media establishment that focused obsessively on a stain on a blue Gap dress and the titillating prospect of oral sex in the Oval Office, to the exclusion of the enormous policy challenges the country faced.  And I was fed up with the blatant hypocrisy that demanded the blood of impeachment for a blowjob - a blowjob! - while looking the other way as those family values arbiters, the Gingriches and Hydes and Livingstons of the world, engaged in their own extracurricular sexual activities.  Worse, they demanded a Clinton crucifixion for what was, at most, a private and venal sin while having allowed truly criminal (indeed, treasonous) activity to flourish unchecked during the Reagan and Bush I administrations.

And nothing delighted me more than the fantasy that, one day, I would be able to pull the lever for you in a presidential race.  The sweetest revenge would be to rub the Beltway hypocrites’ collective nose in the mere fact of your presidency.

What a grave disappointment.

I remember being a bit taken aback by the conternt of your letter - less for what it said than for how it was written.  It was a mishmash of disjointed sentences strung together into one clunky paragraph, closing with thanks for my support.  Nothing especially wrong with it, except that it seemed so badly written, especially for something going out over the signature of Hillary Rodham Clinton, First Lady, lawyer, and policy wonk extraordinaire.  In discussing it with friends, I attributed it to two things:  1) the fact that it was undoubtedly drafted by a low-level aide, and simply signed by you; and, more signifcantly, 2) the fact that, after years of persecution at the hands of your and your husband’s political enemies, you felt such a need to say nothing that could be used against you in any way that the net result was simply disjointed pablum.  Fine; I could certainly understand the feelings underlying such an approach.  It saddened me to see such a lowering of our public discourse, even in a simple thank-you note, but I had no illusions about the pernicious effects of the anti-Clinton zealots.

Little did I know that that carefulness, that avoidance of substance, would come to be a cornerstone of your future presidential campaign.

During your Senate tenure, I understood when you kept your head down on issues that previously had been of apparently great importance to you.  I understood when you made a public show of your outreach to members of the other party.  I understood when you invoked your faith repeatedly in the public sphere.  And I understood when you took policy stances that were - how shall I put this?  Hawkishly conservative, to say the least. 

I reserved judgment when you cast votes that seemed to betray not only your constituents, but your own political identity.  I reserved judgment when you partnered with Republicans on such non-issues as flag-burning, sex and violence in popular music and films, and other red meat for conservatives.  I reserved judgment when you declined to support gay marriage.  I even reserved judgment when you voted in favor of the Orwellian U.S.A. Patriot Act and the AUMF in Iraq.  Not, you understand, because I supported any of these stances; I did not.  But because, given the existing political climate, and given the cowardly approach of virtually every member of Congress save Russ Feingold (and, in isolated instances, a few others), I felt that you deserved as great a benefit of the doubt as every one of them.

And, I suppose, because I wanted to believe that you would have the courage of your convictions - or at least what we had been given to believe were your convictions.

Sadly, that day is long past.

It is true that, if you should become the Democratic nominee, I will vote for you over whomever the Republican Party ultimately chooses.  That party has become nothing short of a criminal enterprise, and one that enshrines as a virtue the worst kind of bigotry and hypocrisy.  But as a feminist, it saddens me greatly that I find myself unable wholeheartedly and enthusiastically to support the campaign of the first viable woman presidential candidate during the primary phase of the election.

Your thank-you letter of 1998 was telling:  the carefully chosen words; the sacrifice of clarity and sense for vague and unrelated platitudes; the insistence on saying not only nothing of substance, but nothing, period.  These have been the sum and substance of your campaign . . . and precious little substance it is.

I’ve watched in dismay as, for months now, you’ve refused to own your mistaken votes on the AUMF and Patriot Act.  I don’t expect an overt apology, but I do expect you not to take us for ninnies.  I expect you to be woman enough to admit that it was a mistake - and one that you will not make again.

I’ve watched in dismay as your surrogates have attempted to smear Senator Obama, your chief opponent.  I know that you have said publicly that such comments were not authorized, but of a candidate in your position, much more is required than such weak denials. 

And I’ve watched in dismay as you and your campaign have made weak and cheap allusions to race.  Admittedly, the media have blown such statements out of all proportion, but you and your advisors surely must know that, where your candidacy above all others is concerned, they can reliably be expected to do that and much worse.  From a strategic standpoint, it is ludicrous to give them an opening; from an ethical standpoint, such comments are beneath you in the first place.

But would you like to know what pushed me over the edge, from not enthusiastically supporting your candidacy to not supporting it at all?

It was your behavior on Saturday night in the aftermath of the South Carolina vote.

What in the world made you think that flying out of South Carolina in advance of the returns was a position of strength?  What in the world made you think that running off to Tennessee as the returns came in was a position of strength?  What in the world made you think that failing to thank your South Carolina supporters - in person, when it counted - was a position of strength?  What in the world made you think that a tossed-off helf-sentence reference to Senator Obama’s outstanding win was a position of strength?

You know what would really have been a position of strength?  Being woman enough - and gracious enough - to have waited it out with your South Carolina supporters, to have thanked them for their hard work and dedication on your behalf, to have acknowledged Senator Obama’s striking victory in a state where the very fact of outstanding African American turnout is something to be celebrated.  Escaping to Tennessee - and that’s exactly what it was - fooled no one.  Worse, it turned those voters at your Tennessee event, including the African American voters on whom every camera was trained relentlessly, into nothing more than a foil for spinning away not only your loss in South Carolina, but Senator Obama’s victory.

Don’t get me wrong:  I hold no particular brief for Senator Obama’s campaign performance, either, although largely for different reasons.  But your attempt to escape Sunday night’s South Carolina outcome by fleeing to Tennesee was the craven act of a political coward, not the mark of a worthy presidential candidate.

And, yes, I know what happened.  I know that your inner circle - The Five, as they are known, and not respectfully, either -  persuaded you that you needed to "move beyond" South Carolina.  Well, Senator Clinton, we voters have other ideas.  We believe that taking responsibility for one’s own campaign, and one’s own performance therein, are necessary prerequisites to any "moving on."  And quaint though it may seem in 2008, we also believe that graciousness and being a good sport are prerequisites to gaining our support for the Oval Office, particularly after two terms of disastrously childish ungraciousness and poor sportsmanship, played out on the world stage.

Senator Clinton, it’s time to clean house.  Your "advisors" are advising your campaign into the ground.  Get rid of Mark Penn - that union-busting anti-liberal spin doctor of silly Beltway bagatelles must be the first to go.  Get rid of Howard Wolfson.  Get rid of Patti Solis Doyle.  Surround yourself with real advisors - ones who may not always tell you what they think you want to hear, but who can be relied upon always to tell you exactly what you need to hear.  Listen to you own instincts, those that made you, once upon a time, such a fierce advocate for the disenfranchised and disadvantaged; you’ve suppressed them for far too long now.

Begin campaigning like the woman that many of us long believed you to be:  a woman of courage, of commitment, of honesty, of true inner strength.  Then - and only then - will you deserve our support. 

Sincerely,

Lilith Devlin

[Ed. note:  Links to be added later.  Up next:  Open letters to Barack Obama and John Edwards.]

Image from Dave Pollard’s how to save the world.

So today’s the postmark deadline for submitting my absentee ballot in the DPNM caucus.  I’ve been out of town on business (out of state, actually), which is why I needed the absentee ballot in the first place.   Has it arrived yet?

Do you really need an answer to that?

It should have been here about a week ago.  Ordinarily, it takes 24 hours for mail to reach this post office from Albuquerque.  But if it’s not here before the close of business today - with enough time for me to fill it out and get it in the mail with today’s postmark - I can’t vote.  And, no, traveling to Albuquerque to pick it up is not an option; aside from the shitty weather, my whole day is scheduled in a way that doesn’t leave time for a seven-hour side trip.

If it doesn’t arrive, I’m going to be seriously pissed.  Of course, I won’t be surprised.  I still remember vividly our illustrious state party’s rampant fuckupery during the ‘04 mess.  And ironically, I’ve been so fed up with our media-created frontrunners’ performance (or, rather, lack thereof), that I’ve been seriously considering withholding my vote entirely in the caucus.  But that’s my prerogative - not that of the party bureaucracy.

That said, even if it does arrive, I still may withhold my vote.  Or I may return the ballot with either 1) Bill Richardson as a write-in, or 2) a note saying that I’m voting for none of the above.  I’m way, way past my choking point.

Don’t get me wrong:  In the general election, I’ll pull the lever for Clinton, Edwards, or Obama over any Rethug any day of the week.  But I don’t have to like it.  They’re all grave disappointments, and it’s pitiful that, with the country in an utter shambles, our only choices are such a weak and soggy assortment.

At the moment, I’m leaning toward Edwards, which really pisses me off.  Wy?  because not only have I never particularly cared for Edwards, but it’s infuriating that in the first-ever election with a truly credible woman candidate and a truly credible African American candidate, I find myself feeling as though principle precludes me from voting for either (in the primary, not the general).  At what should be such a historic moment, to find myself feeling the need to cast a protest vote for the only other remaining candidate - who is a white male - is particularly galling to someone who has worked on civil rights issues her entire life.

I was going to outline the reasons why I’m so disgusted with all three candidates, but I’m finding that it’s going to take too much space.  Instead, I’m going to post an open letter to each of the candidates in turn.  I have no illusions that the posts will be seen by the campaigns, much less generate a response.  But maybe they’ll raise some questions in the minds of readers, or help them make sense of their own discomforts.  Or maybe they’ll just be cathartic for me.

That has its uses, too. 

[Ed. note:  Very short on time today; I promise a real post tomorrow.  For now, read someone who GETS IT.]

For my money (okay, not for my money, since I wouldn’t pay a red cent any more for Len Downie’s rag, but still . . .), there are exactly three journalists at WaPo:  Froomkin, Priest, and Robinson.  Note that I did not say "three decent journalists," or any such variation; I said "three journalists," period.  The rest are stenographers, at best (and that’s only by giving them an unholy benefit of the doubt, something I don’t for a moment).

Anyway, as the post-Iowa wankery continues unabated in most quarters, it’s refreshing to read someone like Gene.  HE GETS IT.  The rest of you out whores out there, take note.

For openers:

I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: People in Washington really should get out more.

To which, of course, we normal folks are tempted to say, "No shit."  Or maybe I mean "Amen."  Or something.  Let’s go with "No shit," since it’ll get Broderella’s knickers in a twist.

Gene rightly points out that Teh Villagers need not actually live inside Teh Beltway - in fact, I’d say it’s a good bet most of them don’t, even those who work inside it.  Too many scary brown people, doncha know.  Much safer in Alexandria, or Takoma Park, or some other nice white area.  But in the words of the man himself:

By "Washington," I mean not just the city but the state of mind, and by "get out," I mean spend time surrounded not just by a different geography but by a different demography as well. If we did, the high-blown debates we have here — and by "we," I mean politicians, lobbyists, advocates, bureaucrats, scholars, journalists and all the rest trapped in the Washington echo chamber — might bear more relation to what people who live outside our bubble think of as reality.

He offers reactions to the Bhutto assassination as Exhibit A, but Exhibit B is what really curls my toes:

In Washington, it is conventionally wise to think of government gridlock as basically a good thing, even something that most Americans approve of. To have a president from one party and a Congress controlled — or at least reined in — by the other, we tell ourselves, prevents too-abrupt shifts in policy. Gridlock is supposed to force bipartisan consensus, which is held as a kind of Holy Grail, the only way to tackle the nation’s biggest problems.

But tell that to Iowans — or residents of most states, for that matter — who either don’t have health insurance or can’t get insurance companies to pay their medical bills. Tell it to Arizonans who have pressed their state government to implement its own immigration policy — shouldering what is clearly a federal responsibility — because Washington can’t get its act together. Tell it to military families, some in favor of the war in Iraq and some against, whose lives have been turned upside down by extended deployments with no end in sight.

Oh, yes, yes, YES!!!!!  Sing it, baby!

But from the conversations I had with Iowans, it seemed clear to me that change is also shorthand for the disconnect between the Washington state of mind and the widespread expectation, hardly unreasonable, that this city ought to actually get something done every once in a while.

Whether it gets done after a bare-knuckle brawl or a chorus of "Kumbaya" really doesn’t matter.

Exactly.  And Villagers, lemme tell ya, fuck "Kumbaya."  We want the bare-knuckled brawl.  Because it’s the only way we’ll actually get anything done - you know, that "anything" for which we pay you so handsomely.  Your precious bipartisanship accomplishes - what?  Illegal wars, health-care crises, housing meltdowns, planetary meltdowns . . . and you want us to thank you, while scuffing our toes and pleading in supplication, "Please, sir, may I have some more?"  Fuck you with cast-iron adjustable-rate mortgage.

Finally, Gene describes Teh Villagers thusly:

an alien invasion of know-it-alls from Washington who descended to examine the locals as if they were specimens in a laboratory.

He includes himself in that assessment, which I think is a bit of unnecessary self-criticism.  But his basic point is dead-on.  Because, you see, to Teh Villagers, we’re not actually people:  We’re just a nation of soggy socks waiting for the salvation of their own personal spin cycles. 

Well, I got news for ya:  Go knit your own damn socks for a change.  See what honest labor feels like - if, of course, the shock to your system doesn’t kill you.