Politics and Dharma

Studies in the Democratic Process

I recently had a pleasant email exchange with my senate district party rep. Do you know your senate district party rep? Mine’s a nice guy — I’ve met him a few times and we’ve had some occasions to chat.

My recent conversation with him centered on my idea to flood the state conventions of both parties with cannabis legalization supporters and to try to overwhelm the platform system by pushing multiple and highly varied legalization initiatives into both party platforms. He agreed that I had set a high bar for myself, acknowledged that Satan would wear long johns and mittens before the state legalized cannabis, and then confirmed my cynical suspicion that few elected candidates bothered to read the party platform, much less abide by it.

He also suggested a number of ways I could encourage others to participate without having to actually get out of their houses, and thanked me for participating. Y’know, in the whole democratic process and all. “Hey, thanks for playing! We’ve got some nice schwag waiting for you down in the lobby.”

Democracy in Hell
I know it’s easy to get disenchanted with the civic process. One path of participation apparently involves walking around with one’s checkbook out, draining away the bank account in the name of political support. Whenever you meet a candidate or issue lobbyist, there’s always the inevitable question #3: “How much can you donate?”

Another form of participation involves burning away hours of personal time and resources driving around and walking through neighborhoods, or talking on the phone for hours and hours, to thousands of disinterested, disaffected people. Frankly, most campaign work is a painful drudgery that gets dumped onto the naive and the chronically underemployed. And who isn’t swayed by a sweaty, under trained, low-wage minion mumbling a script about policies he or she has no real clue about?

There is yet another way, another path of participation. Actually, there are many other ways. For instance, those with that particular combination of melodrama, masochism and charisma may find pleasure and satisfaction in the challenge toward elected office. But I think that to really get my point, you need to come with me on a bit of fantasy ride into an imaginary world of civic utopia.

Fantasy Precinct
Imagine, if you will, attending a quarterly precinct party meeting, with your precinct chair and more than 45% of the party voters from that precinct. The precinct chair relates news from state and local legislative activities, and campaign updates for all upcoming elections. He or she collects the opinions of those present on outstanding issues of the day and organizes petitions and legislative contact workshops. Those attending have opportunities to bring up topics that — through the actions of the party chair — are heard throughout the party. Most importantly, the chair solicits and persuades members of his or her precinct to run for various open offices, connecting them with managers and funders.

[This is too much... having a hard time breathing... Can't stop laughing... Not enough oxygen...]

The most important contest at the precinct level is for the coveted representative and alternate positions at the county convention. Folks campaign for weeks before the primary, knocking on doors, handing out cookies and getting to know their neighbors. At the county level, it’s standing room only as every precinct turns out, on average, 85% of their allotted representatives. Competition for the state convention seats is fierce.

[Aggh! Drowning in my own tears... Can't see with all the convulsive laughter! Must stop typing...]

In Real Life…
Okay! Hallucination over. I’m all better now.

In real life, the only time I really see other precinct Dems is at the biannual precinct caucus or at the grocery store. In presidential election years, as many as 15-20 people, in my dark blue precinct of 500 voters, will attend the party caucus. Off years are good if as many as a half-dozen people arrive. There’s something like a dozen precinct seats at the county caucus, so anyone who shows interest in going is virtually guaranteed a spot for themselves and an extra seat or two for their stuff.

Attendance at a convention consists largely of spending money, listening to rousing speeches, and rubber-stamping the decisions of the party administration. For those ‘in the know’ there is quite a bit more: there are committees meetings to attend, caucuses to address, and even some conspiracy from time to time. Yet the vast majority of those attending simply sit in the bleachers and wait to be entertained. If, through exhaustion or perchance some sense of civic duty, they remain in their seats long enough, they get to debate platform initiatives for hours on end.

Platform initiatives voted on at the precinct level derive almost entirely from lobbyists, interest groups, and political action committees. Rules governing platform adoption virtually guarantee that privately submitted initiatives are quickly forgotten. With a lifetime as brief as a sand mandala made by Tibetan monks, county, state, and national party platforms are conveniently discarded as soon as the election year dog and pony shows are put away. Nonetheless, debating and voting on platform initiatives can take many painful hours at any convention.

An Awkward Suggestion
After my first experience at a state convention, I was certain that the entire thing was a contrived hoax, concocted to make me feel all patriotic and dutiful when I knew that I hadn’t actually done anything that expressed my own preferences outside of the concession booth. During the most recent, I went with an experienced campaigner and actually got a lot more out of the adventure. It made me realize that there is a lot of potential for change and progress… if only this tool were recognized and utilized.

One reason pols can kick their own party platform under the rug is that they realize it’s not really the voice of the people. If people really attended their precinct caucuses like it was something important — vetting their hearts after voting their choices — platforms at the state level would have the power of common law, and at the national level would virtually dictate domestic policy. One of the most effective (and free) ways we can participate in the democratic system is still available to any citizen.

And to bring this to the basest level I can, the best reason I can suggest for participating in caucus-level politics now is that hardly anyone else is doing it at the moment, so anyone who does participate will find that their voice will carry far more weight at the state and national level than it would if all their neighbors actually participated. You want power? You want glory? Lots of seats go uncontested in state and local government — why not take advantage of the ones closest to you?