Vote for me for ASB!

When I was 7th grade, we were introduced to the democratic process in all its splendor: voting for student council class representative. The student council decided important things, we knew, like how the dances were themed, and perhaps even what prizes we were given for fundraisers. Vastly important stuff.

I was greatly interested and decided to campaign. Recently, I had written an article for the school newspaper regarding the school uniform policy, and how unfair it was (o! for the days of simpler political thoughts), and that provided a bare basis for my political platform. Besides the ubiquitous wink-wink-nudge-nudge-vote-for-me, we were allowed a two-minute speech to trace out the basics of our great plans for recess ten times a day and pizza every lunchtime.

My speech was, true to character, wordy, long, carefully feasible, and probably stupefyingly boring. I didn't really have any particular expectation of winning. Several others gave speeches as well--one funny, one mildly clever, one passionate but unrealistic, one quite unremarkable, and one barely understandable. The last won, of course, because she was the most popular girl in class, and had given out cute stickers before.

This was my first intro-to-democracy, and I learned well. I did not campaign again, for a long time. I observed the ASB elections, the club presidential races, the prom king elections, with a (perhaps cynical) detachment. I did not vote; not for those who handed my candy and cookies, not for those who had beautiful stickers, not for those who industriously plastered the school grounds with brightly-colored fliers, not for those who advertised in videos on the daily bulletin. I removed myself from the democratic process entirely--how odd, for one who so loves democracy!

Until this year. This year, we had band council elections--President, Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer, Librarian, Historian. Last year I was not nominated, I did not run, but I ended up Librarian anyway; a fluke. This year, I decided to campaign. There was not much competition for my position. I campaigned anyway.

Other kids did the normal shouting, "VOTE FOR ME!", plastered the room with enormous posters, handed out candy, made video advertisements. I put up seven posters. They were text-based; I was lazy. They said "Sylvia Puglisi for Librarian" in small font, and then the following, one on each:

- because otherwise she'll do it anyway.
- because she can define antidisestablishmentarianism. just ask.
- because her posters are creatively minimalist.
- because the magic eight ball says "definitely yes".
- because it might solve global warming.* *no promises
- because everybody knows librarians wear glasses.
- because the answer is 42.

I made no other comment as to my campaign--I did not acknowledge, even, that I was campaigning. I won handily.

My best band friend, asked me, afterwards (in between many, many congratulations from various people whom I'd never even spoken to over my posters) why I'd even bothered campaigning, since the band teacher would have appointed me anyway. I just smiled mysteriously and shrugged. I'd cracked the democratic code.


* * *


Politics is not exactly a popularity contest, although it is close. It is possible, quite possible, to go from relative obscurity to landslide win, and even without the use of flashy tv ads and slanderous campaigns (although they help). All that a politician requires, in the end, is that people associate their name with a warm, fuzzy feeling--or, alternatively, associate the opponent's name with a bad one.

America: The Book by the Daily Show staff had this to say of politics: "Politics separates the willing from the able--and goes with the willing."

Democracy is a vastly inefficient system, as evidenced by sky-high incumbency rates, current presidential woes, and the alarmingly direct correllation between money spent campaigning and political success. I have learned something important about elections thanks to my band council campaign--several things. They are:

1. Elections can and will be rigged.
2. Money helps. A lot.
3. Flashy pictures and video are good, but even humorous non-sequiturs beat relevant information and qualifications.
4. Know your audience.

And this, of course, is why Republicans win elections so well, despite the fact that more Americans identify as Democrats, or at least Democrat-leaning...Republicans get it. They understand that one well-placed word ("flip-flopper," "cut-and-run," "death tax") can beat any number of statistics. They know that there is almost no battle that a few million dollars can't salvage. They get that when we cast ballots, we're not exactly thinking, we are feeling. They know that truthy is better than true.

Voting hasn't changed much from that popularity maneuvering 7th graders do in order to get out of class every second Thursday. We still vote with our guts and our pocketbooks and our friends--and not with our heads. And call me a cynic, but I don't think that's going to change anytime soon.

Lest one think, though, that I dislike democracy, I here quote Winston Churchill: "Democracy is the worst political system--except for all the others."


* * *


Someone asked me, the other day, if I would consider going into politics. I was outspoken, they said, and political, and informed, and I had that particular skill with bending rhetoric so that people believed my logic, even when I didn't. (A dubious complement, perhaps).

I love politics, I said, and it horrifies me; like a car wreck or a reality tv show, I cannot look away. I would consider it as a career--but I kind of like my soul.