Whereof One Can Speak 🇺🇦

Nothing special, one post at a time since 2012

Hitting Voters in the Gut

Paul Waldman of The Washington Post says Democrats need messages that “hit voters in the gut“:

Faced with demands to do something about the right-wing revolution the Supreme Court is inflicting on the country, congressional Democrats will hold votes on bills guaranteeing marriage equality and the right to contraception. These are protected at the moment, but many fear the court and Republicans will move to attack them sometime in the near future.

Since these bills will fall to Republican filibusters in the Senate, they are demonstration votes, meant … in large part to force Republicans to vote against them and thereby reveal themselves to be out of step with public opinion. As many a Democrat has said, “Let’s get them on the record.”

But “getting them on the record” doesn’t accomplish much if you don’t have a strategy to turn that unpopular vote into a weapon that can be used to actually punish those Republicans. And there’s little evidence Democrats have such a strategy.

Sure, they’ll issue some news releases and talk about it on cable news. And here or there the vote might find its way into a campaign mailer (“Congressman Klunk voted against contraception! Can the women of the Fifth District really trust Congressman Klunk?”). But I fear that too many Democrats think getting them on the record is enough by itself.

The reason is that unlike their Republican counterparts, Democrats tend to have far too much faith in the American voter.

People in Washington, especially Democrats, suffer from an ailment that is not confined to the nation’s capital. It plays out in all kinds of places and in politics at all levels. It’s the inability to see politics from the perspective of ordinary people.

… It’s hard to put yourself in the mind of someone whose worldview is profoundly different from your own. If you care about politics, it’s almost impossible to understand how the average person — even the average voter — thinks about the work you do and the world you inhabit.

If you’re reading this, politics is probably a daily reality for you. You almost certainly have a deep well of both foundational knowledge and day-to-day awareness of the political world. You know who the major players are and what their jobs entail. You can explain what a “filibuster” is, or how a bill becomes a law. And because you follow the news, you know what the issues of the moment are and where the two parties stand on them.

Here’s the problem: Most Americans have only a fraction of the understanding you do about these things — not because they’re dumb or ignorant but mainly because they just don’t care. They worry about other things, especially their jobs and their families. When they have free time they’d rather watch a ballgame or chat with a friend than read about whether certain provisions of Build Back Better might survive in some process called “reconciliation.”

If you are the kind of weirdo who cares about politics, you may find it difficult to communicate effectively to those regular people about something they neither know nor care much about.

Like many people, I discovered this disconnect the first time I volunteered on a campaign and went door to door trying to convince people to vote for my candidate. Most didn’t know who he was, didn’t know who he was running against, and didn’t much care about the issues I raised.

In fact, the very idea of “issues” — where a thing happening in the world is translated into something the government might implement policies to address — was somewhat foreign to them. Because I was young and enthusiastic but not schooled in subtle communication strategies, I couldn’t get beyond my own perspective and persuade them of anything.

In the years since, I’ve spent plenty of time trying to understand how normal people think about politics, but that understanding is always incomplete. And most Democrats I know are still captive to the hope that politics can be rational and deliberative, ultimately producing reasonable outcomes.

Republicans have no such illusions. They usually start from the assumption that voters don’t pay attention and should be reached by the simplest, most emotionally laden appeals they can devise. So Republicans don’t bother with 10-point policy plans; they just hit voters with, “Democrats want illegals to take your job, kill your wife, and pervert your kids,” and watch the votes pour in.

Of course, sometimes those appeals fall flat, and Democrats win plenty of elections. And every once in a while, a vote in Congress gets so much attention and discussion that even regular people hear about it and might even form an opinion.

But like most such demonstration votes, the ones on contraception and marriage equality … won’t be one of those times. Turning them into something that moves the electorate will require a lot of planning and work to execute. It will mean concerted and coordinated effort. If Democrats think “getting them on the record” will get the job done all by itself, they’re going to be disappointed once again.

Unquote.

If I was a Democratic politician, I’d try to hit my constituents in the gut with stories like these and remind them which side Republicans are on:

Just 3 Weeks Post-Roe, the Stories Emerging Are Worse Than Anyone Imagined (Jezebel)

United Kingdom smashes its all-time, hottest-day record, 100 million Americans under alerts in global heat emergency (CNN)

The Screams of the Children Have Been Edited Out (Counterpunch)

Baseball Isn’t Boring After All

For many years, major league baseball has been amazingly boring. In fact, it’s been amazingly boring since around 11 p.m. on October 14, 1992.

That’s when the Pittsburgh Pirates lost the ’92 National League Championship Series to the Atlanta Braves. It was the 7th and final game of the series. The Pirates had entered the bottom of the 9th leading 2-0. With 1 out, the Braves made the score 2-1. With 2 outs and the bases loaded, an Atlanta pinch-hitter hit a single to left field. The runner on 3rd easily scored, making it 2-2. The runner on 2nd headed for home. There was a play at the plate. The runner beat the throw from Barry Bonds. Atlanta won 3-2 and went to the World Series.

Barry Bonds left to play for the San Francisco Giants and the Pirates had 20 consecutive losing seasons. Nothing they tried worked. None of their games were significant. Baseball was amazingly boring.

This year, mirabile dictu, the Pirates not only had their first winning season, they qualified for the playoffs. They won the National League wild card game Tuesday night. Thursday they began a 5-game playoff with the St. Louis Cardinals. Each team has won a single game so far.

All of a sudden, baseball is no longer amazingly boring. Where there were long stretches of tedium before, as the pitcher stared into space, the batter called time out, the pitching coach walked to the mound, as foul ball after foul ball went into the stands, there is now serious suspense. Is that 2-run lead safe? Will this pitcher make it through the inning? Can this batter get on base? It’s too scary to watch sometimes. Every throw and swing of the bat means something.

Baseball hasn’t changed at all, of course. But as with all things in life, context is crucial. Walking down the street, sitting on a park bench, eating a slice of pizza, anything at all can be meaningful, depending on the circumstances.

From the Cicada’s Perspective (Again With the Cicadas!)

Having a perspective is one of the things that generally sets us apart from inanimate objects (putting aside some inanimate objects like radio telescopes). A cicada has a perspective too, although it’s presumably not quite as nuanced as ours.

From our perspective, it can seem rather sad that these living things are stuck underground for 17 years, only to spend a few days or a few weeks in the open air before dying. It doesn’t seem like much of a life.

On the other hand, if we were to go very far out on a limb and attribute emotions and conscious reflection to these little creatures, we might suppose that they are perfectly happy living underground, away from birds and car tires, resting comfortably in the dark, taking sustenance from tree roots.

The years go by and one day they have to leave their homes, exposing themselves to all kinds of strange goings on, climbing trees, going through metamorphosis, flying around, making so much noise looking for a mate. What a pain! Can’t I stay down here for another decade or so?

Or maybe they feel suddenly liberated? Having been imprisoned in the earth, serving what amounts to a life sentence, they finally get to leave their jails, have some fun if they’re lucky and then call it a day. What a relief! I’m glad that’s over. I’ve done my bit and now it’s time to shuffle off this mortal coil.

Illness

After what doctors call a “complication” from a medical procedure, I’ve just spent three days in the hospital. I haven’t been this sick since having pneumonia many years ago.

One thing I was reminded of is how difficult it can be to sleep in a hospital bed, while connected to various tubes, with inflatable straps around your legs to prevent blood clots, the bed undulating to prevent bedsores, high-tech machinery beeping, chugging and whooshing, and periodic visits from the nurses and technicians. They should call it a “patient platform” instead of a “bed”.

The more significant thing I’ve been reminded of is how illness can change your perception of the world. Having an abnormal perspective makes the world seem very different. What is normally interesting, enjoyable or possible isn’t anymore.

I’m very glad that I’ll recover soon. I wouldn’t want this unpleasant state to start feeling typical, the way being healthy becomes a memory for people with chronic illness. Being ill for a long time doesn’t mean that it’s normal to be ill — you can still compare your state to a healthy one. But maybe you can adjust after a while, your abnormal perspective becoming “normal for you”. The world might seem interesting and enjoyable again.

I don’t want to find out if I could get used to this particular perspective. Apparently all I need is some more hemoglobin and the world will again seem normal.