the diary of a political flip-flopper.
Lately I’ve shocked a lot of people when they ask me who I’m voting for. As one of the bigger poltitical junkies in my circle everyone assumes that I’d be on the front lines for one of the candidates…. instead I’ve been debating my choice over and over again. Here’s just a sample from this weekend.
I woke up Saturday morning leaning towards Obama. What if we really could have this passionate movement inter-generational run to November? How many new politically charged people would an Obama presidential run create? I shocked my friends that morning with my Obama leanings.
And then I spent some time talking to my brother, my favorite Clinton defender, who could probably talk almost anyone out of Obama. It’s hard to argue against my bro when he hands-down reads more political writing than anyone else I know. He has more facts, more arguments, and has spent more time analyzing this race than most Obama supporters I know. He had me back feeling good about a vote for Clinton.
Then that night I watched “Bobby“. More than a few people are commenting on the parallels between ‘68 and ‘08 but watching the film, I felt the connection. Here was a movement of young, multi-racial politcally charged Americans coming together for a new kind of politics. And then how quickly it all fall apart. My friends and I were left wondering what could have been…? Which no doubt drives much of the allure of Obama. Is he our Bobby? I fell asleep confused.
Sunday morning. Eight of us gathered for brunch and very quickly I realized if I were to vote for Clinton, I’d be the only one. A minority in my own demographic. I left brunch early for a knitting class and used the BART ride to read the NY Times.
First up, the cover of Week in Review: The Party Animal Either Plays Well or Fights Well. If you only read one article today, this should be it. A fascinating read on how McCain and Obama represent a new post-partisanship form of politics while Clinton and Romney are the stallwart partisans of their parties.
Call it a split between whether politics should be a pursuit of consensus or an effort to enact a party’s fundamental ideas, its core orthodoxy. Each party’s nominating fight boiled down last week to a choice between two candidates: one who argues for a politics that reaches across party lines and looks to identify common ground within the broader electorate; and one who states his or her first principle as representing the traditional party base by drawing firm ideological lines.
All of a sudden I realize if McCain wins the GOP nod Obama would be a far better opponent. Michael Oreskes subtly pushes me towards Obama.
Then to Ask Not What J.F.K. Can Do for Obama. Frank Rich argues that the Obama/Kennedy connection works just as well for strengths and for weaknesses. Rich points out how ineffective JFK was as a Senator, but how he managed to capture the spirit of the nation. More points for Obama. (In my head, I remember my brother pointing out that JFK’s Bay of Pigs disaster is exactly what happens when you put inexperienced people in the Oval Office.) Now I’m neutral to leaning to Obama.
Now what does Maureen Dowd add to the mix? A little anecdote of Clinton loosing her cool on the tarmac. Yikes. The WIR pushes me towards Obama, nevermind that the Editorial board endorsed Clinton. (Again, just like Jiminy Cricket, Brendan pops into my head reminding me that the media love to hate-on the Clintons and that we’re forced fed the narrative that they sculpt.) Gulp.
Now it’s Monday morning, I have less than 24 hours to decide. Jumped on nytimes.com to see where things stand and catch Paul Krugman’s final pre-primary analysis on health care. And with this there seems no doubt, Clinton’s health care plan offers a chance for true universal coverage. Obama has already conceded. Krugman, predictably, pushes me more to Clinton.
Finally, my daily Salon.com email invites me to read another undecided diary, this one by Rebecca Traister. And for once I don’t feel so alone. She had me nodding along at every paragraph.
A sampling:
Much to my consternation, it’s almost Super Tuesday, and I am an undecided voter. I am a political junkie, a Democrat; I read the papers. But for the first time in my life, barring some truly dramatic last-minute development, I am going to walk into a voting booth on Tuesday, pull a curtain closed, and see how the spirit moves me….
This is extremely humiliating. Not simply to be undecided. But to be undecided hours before the first primary in my memory in which my vote will make one iota of difference; to be undecided in a race that is historic, that has provoked more excitement than any I’ve yet lived through. I’m undecided at a moment — one I thought might never transpire in my lifetime — in which I will have the opportunity to pull a lever for a woman or an African-American. I am undecided while many around me whoop it up, volunteer, yell and cry at rallies, and feel the thrill of political certainty that I cannot share….
I think of how I would love to be part of the wave of enthusiasm for this smart, charismatic man, of how he wipes the floor with Clinton as an orator; I consider that the dashing Obama, and his youthful adherents, have the chance to take John McCain, while Clinton would bring every angry, resentful white guy out of his parents’ basement to vote against her….
But a vote for his opponent would be, perhaps, even more private. There is shame in voting for Hillary Clinton, make no mistake — pulling a lever for someone who voted for Iraq and proposed anti-flag-burning legislation provokes its own brand of self-loathing. When I think about doing the deed, I consider the fact that she’s brilliant, that she’s competent, that she knows her shit inside and out, that she’s battle-tested, tough as nails, and that she wipes the floor with Obama in the debates. She provides a steel-solid track record, he a nimbus of vague hope.
My sentiments exactly.
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