On Voting

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"Men do not differ much about what things they will call evils; they differ enormously about what evils they will call excusable."

G.K. Chesterton

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I read with interest an article by Peter Grier in the Christian Science Monitor that sought to clarify what recent poll numbers indicate.

For example,the Associated Press found that, while the majority believe the president is a nice guy, two–thirds rate his presidency as average at best — and nearly half rate his presidency below average. Clearly, liking the president and liking his agenda are two separate things.

I guess one of the most intriguing quotes I read said, in effect, Barack Obama seems like a nice guy, someone I might like to hang out with, but I like a lot of people and most of them aren't qualified to be president.

That's the part of public opinion polling that I have never fully comprehended, I guess. I get that people want to feel good about the people for whom they vote, but, please, try to understand. I was a child during the Nixon years. No one seemed to like him, not even people who voted for him, yet he was elected president twice. The second time he was elected, he got a higher share of the popular vote than anyone in American history except Lyndon Johnson.

The lesson I took from that was somewhat Machiavellian, I guess — a leader does not have to be loved or even liked. (Yet, the questions that are put to modern voters about their political choices — Which candidate do you like best? Which candidate would you rather have a beer with? — suggest that likability is the only thing voters consider.)

But a leader does need to lead.

Being liked simply isn't a requirement of the job. It's a plus, but it isn't necessary. And my assessment, after the special election in Florida, is that Democrats relied too much on the impression that Obama is generally well liked — and gave too little credibility to voter opposition to the policy.

I know that voters want to like the people for whom they vote, but I have voted in many elections, and I know it isn't always possible to like the candidates for whom you choose to vote.

When you're casting your vote, my experience is that you are more likely to encounter a race in which you really don't like either of the candidates as you are to encounter a race in which you do like them. (Most of the time, there will probably be one candidate you like better than the other.)

In every election, though, you really have two options. You can skip voting in that race entirely (you certainly aren't required to vote in every race on your ballot, and I generally do skip at least one such race every election), or, if you have no clear preference in the likability department, you can choose a candidate based on other (usually more important) factors, such as the candidates' relevant experience and records of achievement.

That, too, can be exaggerated, but the truthfulness of what a candidate says about himself or herself can be easily verified by enterprising reporters. So, too, can the success or failure of the policies and programs with which a candidate and/or the candidate's party are linked in the public mind.

Which brings me to the special election in Florida.

It's hard, in the aftermath of yesterday's special election in Florida's 13th congressional district, to avoid wondering just how much of an influence the low popularity of Barack Obama and the implementation of his signature achievement, the passage of Obamacare, had on the outcome — and, by extension, how much it will affect other races across the country in November.

Predictably, Democrats are downplaying the Obamacare part of it. Instead, they are pointing out that Republicans narrowly held on to a seat they have won comfortably for decades. Party cheerleader Debbie Wasserman Schultz was spinning so fast today that the loss amazingly became a positive.

Just as predictably, the Republicans are calling this an early indication of a national rejection of Obamacare. They dismiss the fact that the Republican winner was held under 50% in the three–candidate race. House Speaker John Boehner called it a "big win," which is a considerable stretch.

But here's the bottom line: The special election in Florida's 13th was a "must–win" for Democrats, in the words of political analyst Stuart Rothenberg.

For years, Democrats have been anticipating a takeover when the seat was open. After all, Democratic presidential nominees have carried the district in five of the last six national elections. But the takeover did not happen.

After the votes were counted, Rothenberg wrote this: "The Republican special election win doesn't guarantee anything for November. But it is likely to put Democrats even more on the defensive, undermining grassroots morale and possibly adding fuel to the argument that Democratic dollars should go toward saving the Senate than fighting for the House."

That's about the size of it.

What's Wrong With Voter ID Laws?

I've heard endless arguments about the voter ID laws, especially the one on the books here in Texas, and I must confess that I still don't understand the problem some people have with them.

I mean, what is wrong with proving that you are authorized to vote? You have to present such ID to buy alcohol or cigarettes. You have to present such ID when you apply for a loan or if you're going to rent a vehicle or an apartment — or a motel room.

The vice president has been beating that drum about voter ID laws being racist and fueled by hatred.

I am an independent, and I have found no compelling reason to vote in either party's primary this year (early voting here ends Friday; the primaries are next Tuesday) so I can't speak firsthand about experience with the voter ID law, in effect for the first time.

(Voters in Texas do not register by party so it's largely a personal affiliation kind of thing. When you go to the polls, you are asked in which party's primary you wish to vote.

(If there is a runoff, you can only vote in the party in which you voted in the original primary. But two years later, when the next primaries are held, you can choose the one in which you want to vote all over again. You are not committed to a party beyond the current primary.)

They've been issuing voter ID cards here in Texas for years — new ones are sent out every two years — and voters are supposed to present them when they vote. Now, apparently, additional ID is required as well.

I've heard it said that voter ID laws are racist, that they are intended to prevent minorities from participating.

But here's what it says at VoteTexas.gov:

Here is a list of the acceptable forms of photo ID:

• Texas driver license issued by the Texas Department of Public Safety (DPS)
• Texas Election Identification Certificate issued by DPS
• Texas personal identification card issued by DPS
• Texas concealed handgun license issued by DPS
• United States military identification card containing the person's photograph
• United States citizenship certificate containing the person's photograph
• United States passport

With the exception of the U.S. citizenship certificate, the identification must be current or have expired no more than 60 days before being presented for voter qualification at the polling place.

How does that prevent anyone from voting? And if a qualified voter doesn't have any of those, at the top of the website is this sentence: Qualified voters without an approved photo ID may obtain a free Election Identification Card from DPS. Look at the VoteTexas.gov site all you want. It doesn't say anything about literacy tests or any of that other stuff.

And I haven't heard a single report of anyone being denied the right to vote in this primary season. I assume that, if someone had been denied the right to vote, that person would have been worth a lot to the anti–voter ID crowd, which is almost exclusively Democrats (who have been in the political minority in this state for decades) — and, consequently, we would have heard something about it by now. Early voting has been going on for more than a week now. Haven't heard a thing. So again I ask: What's the problem? Before he was elected vice president, before he was elected to the U.S. Senate, Joe Biden was a lawyer, a product of the Syracuse School of Law. He should know that, in the United States, the law requires evidence to prove guilt, that everyone is considered innocent until proven guilty.

Where is his evidence that voter ID laws are racist?

Why I Am An Independent

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From "Inherit the Wind:"

Matthew Harrison Brady: Why is it, my old friend, that you've moved so far away from me?

Henry Drummond: All motion is relative, Matt. Maybe it's you who've moved away by standing still.

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Gallup reports that more than two–fifths of Americans self–identify as independents.

That is the highest it has been since Gallup started asking that question a quarter of a century ago, and it indicates that a large portion of the American electorate is up for grabs.

Gallup reported this finding last week, and I have been trying to figure out what it means. The talking heads of all political stripes appear to believe they understand why so many Americans say they belong to neither party, but I think the answer is a lot more complicated than they like to believe.

I have my own thoughts on that, but, ultimately, I can only speak for myself. I, too, consider myself an independent, but I'm sure the path I took is unique to me in most respects.

The fact that so many Americans consider themselves independents suggests several things to me:

For one, I believe winning this voting bloc is going to be a tall order for either party. Both parties will give you ample reasons why the independents should vote for them — indeed, why so many people are leaving the established parties — but I think one of the reasons why so many Americans do identify as independent is because the shrillness of the extreme wings of both parties (and both parties have extremists) turns them off. To win them over, the parties will have to be less accusatory and more placatory.

I repeat, I can only speak for myself. Until a few years ago, I considered myself a Democrat, but I have been bothered by the fact that both parties presume too much about each other — and assume too much about anyone who disagrees with them. Initially, I saw it as the embodiment of George W. Bush's assertion that, essentially, if you ain't with us, you're against us.

(That, in turn, reminds me of some graffiti I read about in my studies of history, graffiti that appeared in Massachusetts in the late 18th century — "Damn John Jay! Damn everyone who won't damn John Jay! Damn everyone who won't stay up all night damning John Jay!" I always thought that was a pretty good example of why George Washington warned against the formation of political parties.)

Now, I think it is far more insidious than anything Bush suggested. Bush's use of that with–us–or–against–us approach was simplistic, but, originally, it was aimed at foreign countries. Now it is aimed at our fellow citizens — from within, and that bothers me a lot.

I believe people who self–identify as independents are uncomfortable with the extremist bent in both parties. They don't care for it in the party they have called their political home, and it is probably the main reason why they have resisted switching to the other party.

Personally, I have never considered joining the Republican Party.

My ideology is more inclusive, always has been, and I concluded, after careful reflection, that my loyalty is not to a party. The way both parties operate these days, they believe a voter's first (and only) loyalty is to his/her party. I don't walk in lockstep with any party. My loyalty is to freedom.

I don't remember when I began identifying myself as a Democrat, but I know who influenced me in making that choice — my parents, especially my mother.

(My father played a role in it as well, but he was never as outspoken about his political beliefs as my mother was. They believed the same things so he seemed content to let her do the talking on politics for both of them.)

As nearly as I can recall, Mom never spoke in terms of Democrat or Republican. She spoke about the qualities of leadership that she admired, and she chose candidates for office who demonstrated those qualities. Usually (but not always), those candidates were Democrats.

She admired them because they stood for tolerance and acceptance. She truly believed in those qualities. She lived them, and it was entirely consistent that, when it was time to vote, she should gravitate to those who were tolerant and accepting.

(Mom also encouraged my faith in basic American concepts like freedom of the press and freedom of speech.)

I followed her lead because I believed in the same things — and, for most of my adult life, I voted almost exclusively for Democrats.

But times were different when I was a boy. Both parties had strong centrist factions. There were liberal Republicans and conservative Democrats. Party division wasn't nearly as divisive then as it has become. There were healthy and vigorous debates on most issues in both parties. The concept of the big tent really applied to both parties.

When I was growing up, Mom really embodied the concept of tolerance and acceptance — for me, I know, but also for the people who knew her. She was active in community groups that promoted positive relationships between races, religious groups, etc. She is still remembered in my Arkansas hometown for her commitment to making it a better place for all.

Even as a child, I was proud of her for that. I'm prouder still today.

But our friends weren't exclusively Democrats. If they had been, I suppose my family's circle of friends would have been considerably smaller than it was.

My mother taught my brother and me to cast a wide net for friends, to look beyond those things that divided us, and I have tried to do that. I haven't always succeeded, but I have tried.

She never told me to shun people with whom I did not agree.

I often wonder what she would think of today's Democrats because that is exactly what they do. Most of them, anyway. Not all, but most. I speak from personal experience. There are people I have known since college (some longer than that) who have thrown me under the bus because of politics.

A conversation I had is fairly representative of others I have had. Why are you a Republican? I was asked by a Democrat whom I have known for a long time. (Well, at least, he asked me why. I have other "friends" who never bothered to ask that question before tossing me in the path of an oncoming train.)

I'm not a Republican, I replied. I'm an independent.

You're a hater and a racist.

No, I'm not.

You hate Barack Obama because he's black.

(This accusation has been made against me often but never with any supporting evidence. That doesn't surprise me because there is no such evidence. But that is irrelevant to the accusers. You see, I have learned — the hard way — that you have to be careful when you are accused of this because it is the equivalent of the old "Have you stopped beating your wife?" query. If you say that you don't hate Obama because he is black, you are implying that you do hate him for some other reason — and I don't hate him at all.)

No, I don't. I disagree with him.

(That really does express how I feel. I didn't vote for Obama in 2008, but I didn't vote for John McCain, either — I voted for Ralph Nader. After Obama was elected, I told people I was willing to give him a chance, that I would judge him on his record of encouraging job creation.

(And that is precisely what I did when he sought a second term.)

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"I didn't leave the Democratic Party. It left me."

Ronald Reagan

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How did it come to this? I don't know. I do know that I really started to notice a shift in Democrat attitudes about five or six years ago, and I felt increasingly uneasy.

See, one of the things that bothered me most about the Bush years was the way that his supporters accused those who disagreed with him of being unpatriotic. That flew in the face of something that I have always believed — that the very essence of freedom and patriotism is the right to criticize the government without fear of being impugned.

At the time, most Democrats seemed to agree with me. But I came to realize they were taking notes on the actions of their Republican colleagues and refining them for future use. Once they seized congressional power, they began using the same tactic — and accelerated it — after Barack Obama was elected president because they could replace unpatriotic with racist to squelch criticism.

No doubt, there are some racists among those who criticize Obama, but criticism of Obama is not proof of racism any more than criticism of past presidents by blacks or Hispanics or any other minority group was proof that those voters were racist.

I don't object to a black president (or a yellow one or a brown one, either). I do object to an incompetent one of any color.

Perhaps the thing that troubles me the most in our present political environment is the tendency to make race or gender or religion or sexual preference more important than anything else. Such things are irrelevant to me. What matters to me is whether the person in question can do the job.

In the past, I have voted for non–whites, non–males, non–heterosexuals. Voted for some in the most recent election, in fact. I voted for some Democrats. I voted for some Republicans. I didn't vote based on labels. That, it seems to me, is what being an independent is all about.

I was bemused recently by the reactions, as expressed on Facebook, of some diehard Democrats here in Texas when Charlie Strong, the coach of the Louisville football team, was named coach at the University of Texas.

Strong is black, and these two Democrats could only talk about how UT and its longtime rival, Texas A&M, both have black football coaches now. Not one word was said about Strong's qualifications as a coach and an educator. Not one word was said about his coaching style or his ability to recruit talented football players — or his record of graduating his players.

UT is very oriented to recent results. The man Strong is replacing, Mack Brown, brought Texas its first national championship in 35 years, and he coached the Longhorns in another national championship game a few years later. But the last couple of years have been very un–Texas–like.

I predict that Strong will be judged on his results, the same as any other coach at UT. If he wins his conference and, perhaps, coaches the Longhorns to the national championship game, he will keep his job. If he continues the recent trend of eight– and nine–win seasons, well, that might be good enough at other schools, but it wasn't good enough for Mack Brown or his predecessors at UT to remain in the good graces of the athletic department and its wealthy boosters.

Nevertheless, if Strong is dismissed because he doesn't make the Longhorns a Top 10 team, I further predict that there will be those, possibly many, who will say he was fired because of racism. It is the nature of the times.

As far as I am concerned, both parties rely on stereotypes to discredit the opposition. That has been part of the political game as long as I can remember, but never to today's extent. it has completely overwhelmed everything else.

And I think that explains, to a great extent, why so many Americans think of themselves as independents. The parties aren't working together, and that's what the voters want them to do. They want real solutions to real problems. They want the people who have been elected to high office to do what they were elected to do — solve problems — instead of pointing fingers at each other.

I don't know if it entirely explains my decision, but I suspect I will continue to try to explain it to people who are determined not to listen for a long time.

A Tale of Turnout

I seem to be in a Mark Twain kind of mood today (see my earlier post on Walter Cronkite). Consequently, I'm going to start this post with a quote I'm proud to borrow from Twain.

"Reader, suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself."

I've written before of my admiration for Michael Barone and his knowledge of voting trends.

So I think it is worth listening when, as we move forward into an era that seems sure to have an influence on political participation in this country that is unlike anything most of us have witnessed in our lifetimes, Barone observes that "we live ... in a decade of vastly increased voter turnout."

Between 2000 and 2008, he writes, turnout went up 25% "when population went up only 8%."

And, since 1998, Barone reports, turnout has gone up 20% in House elections.

This, Barone points out, does not happen frequently. "To find three consecutive [presidential] elections in which the percentage increase in turnout each time was larger, you have to go back to the three contests between 1928 and 1936," he writes.

A critical factor in the equation appears to be polarization in our politics. "We lament it," Barone writes, "but it inspires many people to go to the polls." Indeed it does.

Barone also mentions party organization. "Both Republican and Democratic strategists believed, going into the 2004 election, that it was better to get your own supporters registered and to the polls," he writes, "than to concentrate on the dwindling number of moveable voters."

The key to capitalizing on all this, he says, is the "balance of enthusiasm." Enthusiastic voters are likely to participate without much prodding. "If your side is more enthusiastic, you'll get more volunteers, more contributions and more people taking the trouble to vote for you even without any prompting."

And that leads Barone to speculate, asking "Which side does it favor now? We can look for clues in the turnout in the primaries for governor in New Jersey and Virginia earlier this month." Those numbers, he concludes, favor the GOP.

"[I]f I were the Democrats," he writes, "I'd be worried about the balance of enthusiasm. If I were the Republicans, I'd be mildly optimistic."

Now, it's worth pointing out that Barone may be biased when he makes his analysis. He is known to be conservative. But I have found his methodology to be sound and mostly bias–free over the years.

I'll admit that it's hard to draw sweeping conclusions from the handful of elections that we've seen in 2009. And many things can affect the turnout — including the fact that presidential elections always generate more excitement than midterms or off–year elections do.

And when it comes to drawing "clues" from the modest electoral activity we've had so far, Barone is as good as there is. Both parties would be wise to pay attention.

Especially Democrats. If the midterm elections were a couple of months away, the Democrats would need to find a way to put a happy face on

• rising jobless rates in almost every state,


• a "down" week on Wall Street and


• rumblings among Democrats that Obama's health care plan is "on the rocks."

Or, to put it in terms Twain would understand, if the senators and the members of the House who face electoral challenges next year don't pay attention to what Barone says, they're idiots.