Becoming an Observer Rather Than a Participant
All my life, I’ve been fascinated by observing politics. The processes by which Americans elect their leaders intrigue me. I can remember avidly watching television network coverage of national political party conventions when meaningful events actually happened during them, rather than candidates being gradually winnowed out through a long series of statewide primaries and caucuses. (For the record, though, the primary election/caucus process is undoubtedly more democratic than choices made in the proverbial smoke-filled rooms.) Back in the day, I eagerly looked forward to each upcoming volume of Teddy White’s The Making of the President 19## series. And when I retired from the full-time workforce in 2009, I began to follow politics even more closely. I began posting political articles on Facebook that I found particularly insightful. And I frequently posted my own take on political personages and events.
Notice that the paragraph above alludes to observing politics rather than actually participating in the process. Other than a couple of times during my childhood when my mother took me, I’ve never gone to a political rally. I have friends who have actively canvassed for candidates and causes, but that’s just not my style. Going up to a stranger and advising them how to vote seems borderline rude to me. At the same time, I admire the convictions of people with the guts to do it. My participation is limited to voting and to making the occasional campaign contribution when I feel strongly about a race. (My 2020 campaign donations went entirely to Senate races that I felt strongly about. I figured my contributions would be more impactful in those races than in the Presidential campaign. And for what it’s worth, only one of the Senate candidates I donated toward won. You rock, Mark Scott!)
Needless to say, the run-up to the 2020 general election really captivated my attention.
So it felt rather strange on election night when I turned off my television shortly after 9:30p and went to bed to read another 50 or so pages of Rick Perlstein’s Reaganland: America’s Right Turn 1976–1980. On election night 2016, I’d watched the returns at least until it was clear that Trump had unexpectedly beaten Hillary Clinton — an outcome that I didn’t like but had no choice other than to accept. With the massive 2020 voter turnout and the heavy volume of absentee or early voting, the hour and a half of returns that I did watch this year made it clear that the final outcome wouldn’t be known until at least the following day. Given the likelihood of legal challenges to the vote counts in various states, the outcome might not be known for a week or more.
I could have stayed up later watching the returns coming in, but I simply don’t have the energy for all that drama any longer. The outcome was going to be what it was going to be, and planting myself in front of my TV wasn’t going to affect it in any way.
As I write this on FR November 6th, the election returns are still incomplete, though Trump’s route to victory has narrowed to having to take all four undeclared statewide races. I’m reasonably confident that Joe Biden will be inaugurated next January as the country’s 46th President. At the same time, I’m not 100% sure that will happen. Given all the unpredictability of the past several years, it’s possible that Trump could still somehow pull off a victory.
And if that happens, then it happens. I refuse to make my serenity contingent on the outcome of circumstances I can’t control. I see from scanning the news sites that demonstrations and counterdemonstrations are peppering the landscape. That’s one of the rights guaranteed by the Bill of Rights. So long as protests don’t turn violent or interfere with the electoral process, I’m happy to also observe them.
My life flows much more smoothly when I don’t take events personally.
