The encounter usually goes something like this: a homeowner in his or her early 50s leans against the door frame looking at me, making no attempt to hide any skepticism. “What are you running as?”
I hand them a flyer with my picture and priorities on it and say, “A Republican, because I believe that…”
They cut me off, voice raised slightly, eyes wider than before, skepticism replaced by anger. “So, you want to give guns to teachers then, right? You like giving rich folks more money too, tax cuts tax cuts tax cuts. Everybody for themselves, right? What about Charlottesville?”
Leaving aside that none of those things apply to the local office I’m running for, I try again. “Look, I can understand that reaction, and that’s actually why I’m running, because I believe that our current moment …”
They back into the house and pull the door shut, head shaking. “After everything he’s said, … how can you support that man?” The door closes.
***
Part of running for local office is canvassing. I’d done it for some other candidates before. You walk around neighborhood, knock on people’s doors, tell them why they should support the person running, ask them what they think, and then listen. At least that’s how it used to be. My experience this year has been quite different.
When I decided to run for a local office, I had a deep well of hope that local politics and issues would be somewhat immune to the polarization at the national level. I was hopeful that folks would roll their eyes at the goings-on in Washington and then talk with me about a road in need of repair or the best way to bring more jobs to our county. And while a lot of folks are polite and willing to engage, many are not. The above story represents just one of many times I couldn’t even get to the part of why I’ve chosen to run. And more often than before I’ve noticed that the first question people ask is my party affiliation. That hasn’t always been important at the local level. People used to be fired up about why their trash hadn’t been picked up or how the plow blocked in their car. Having worked in local government for a man who’s done pretty well at it (see here and here), I know how influential it can be to people’s everyday lives. But rather than being focused on specific issues, people now seem possessed of a more general attitude that’s driving their views tics. It’s more instinctual, more guttural, more tribal, and more closed than ever to the “other.”
Once I tell people that I’m running as a Republican, one of three things usually happens. Option one: As above, I am immediately met with derision, nothing else I say matters (if I get to say anything else at all), and the door slams shut. Option two: I’m met with unquestioned excitement and support and have no real need to say much else. These are Republicans, glad to know that one still exists (I live in one of the bluest parts of Indiana) and is running for office. It is automatically assumed that I’m an enthusiastic supporter of the party and of Trump. Option three: I am asked a follow-up question. These are by far the best interactions I have because I’m able to listen and have a conversation. But they are by far the most infrequent.
I wasn’t alone in hoping the local level would be immune from this sort thing. There’s been a resurgence of hope placed in the idea of localism by intellectuals and grassroots activists alike. To borrow from David Brooks’ recent column, “localism is the belief that power should be wielded as much as possible at the neighborhood, city and state levels. Localism is thriving — as a philosophy and a way of doing things — because the national government is dysfunctional…” I strongly believe in the first part of that. I was hopeful about the second part, but experience is teaching me that it may not be as true as many of us would like it to be.
Our national political climate—really the story of the ascendance of Trump, the transformation of the Republican Party, and the Democratic Party’s search for a response and cohesive identity—has sucked up so much oxygen that local issues suffocate. The political conversation revolves around Trump at all levels. Before I can discuss ways to make my hometown better, people want, almost need, to know where I stand on our current political moment.
I tell them how I honestly feel. I tell them that deep down I believe in the project of conserving and advancing the principles of our founding: liberty and equality. I have a conviction that the activities of our government should be limited as proscribed by our Constitution. And where government does act it should act energetically and effectively. I believe that government should cultivate an environment where people are empowered to be the best people they can be and pursue those things they are passionate about. I also believe in perpetual but gradual political, economic, institutional, and social change so our government remains attuned to the challenges of our time. I tell them that one of the main reasons I am running is because I reject the idea that one party has all the answers. That I reject the zero-sum politics we’ve been in for some time. That if only we can get more of “our side” elected our problems will be solved. That pulling a straight ticket for either party is evidence of an “informed voter”. That my choice is black and white. That I need to swear an oath of loyalty. That I have to choose between one party’s litany of potential solutions or the other. That only through ideological and party purity can you be a true Republican or Democrat. That if I play nice with a member of the other team I’m a traitor. I reject all that. It’s a false choice. And we disempower ourselves if we fall for it.
That’s where I stand on the current political moment. Let the chips fall where they may.
