Politicians. They rank at the bottom of most polls gauging Americans’ trustworthy professions. They are lumped in league with lawyers, car salespeople and lobbyists. Merriam-Webster provides this stark definition:
Politician
1 : a person experienced in the art or science of government; especially : one actively engaged in conducting the business of a government
2 a : a person engaged in party politics as a profession
b: often disparaging : a person primarily interested in political office for selfish or other narrow usually short-sighted reasons. (emphasis mine)
In the interest of full disclosure, I have to own up to being a politician. I have been one for quite awhile now. I prefer “public servant” because it seems more honorable and deferential, but it’s the same thing. At the same time, I’m also a voting citizen. Now I certainly won’t pretend to speak for all elected people, but during the course of my time in government, I have been struck by the very strange and contradictory way we consider the whole notion of politics and the people who participate.
The setup for this complicated relationship is the way we select people in politics (remember, we choose the contemptuous people whom we love to hate). Elections are essentially two or more products competing for majority support. They are, indeed, popularity contests where the most desired person wins (Donald Trump being the exception, of course). To win us over, candidates have to sell us an appealing myth that we subscribe to (or not). The candidates we prefer are vested with organic virtues while their opponents are insensate evil. And then fan mentality takes over, i.e., Yankees suck, Red Sox rule.
Elections are all-out contests, with the winner to be determined by the people who make the effort to vote (some who succumb to the cynicism that naturally comes from this type of hyperbolic pantomime brag about their refusal to participate. They don’t vote but they do complain). The winner retains some of the glow of credibility that voters invested in, but that is tenuous; officials become suspect as soon as an oath is administered. To stay in office, politicians must do whatever they can to maintain the crafted myth, which means staying in character. They are locked into that performance mode until they retire, are defeated or get busted for crimes of arrogance like molestation, graft or whatever motivates folks like that to want to spend more time with their families.
Another complication: Governance requires negotiating. Competing interests must be considered as laws are crafted and policies are generated. That is not really what fans want to hear. Imagine what the reaction would be if the Red Sox bartered runs and wins with the Yankees. We want wins, not compromises.
Much of this contrariety holds true in varying degrees at every level of elected governance. It’s nowhere near as distorted on the local level as it is in higher positions. But the essence of the ritual defines every campaign and continues into a politician’s service.
Democratic governance is a collaborative endeavor by design. It requires bargaining and horse trading. But you wouldn’t know that going by campaign rhetoric. We wouldn’t stand for it. We vote for champions who will fight for us in City Hall/Beacon Hill/Capitol Hill. We demand change. We want independent voices.
Let’s be honest: Just how successful do you think a candidate would be with a slogan like, “I will work with my colleagues to negotiate towards the best possible outcome”? Besides the fact it wouldn’t fit on a bumper sticker, it just isn’t as appealing as “So-and-so Will Fight for YOU!”
Politicians’ personalities are as varied as they are in any other occupation. We all have feet of clay. We all are as human as the employees at a car wash. We’re not wiser or better than anyone else. If we’re conscientious, we develop a more nuanced understanding of how governing works. If we’re more venal, we exploit fears and promote misunderstanding in order to rise in the ranks.
Possibly the only thing politicians have in common is a desire to be liked, admired and/or feared. It’s a necessary characteristic, because who would ask people to choose them, facing the very real prospect that they won’t? That’s a pretty brutal setup when you think about it. Candidates ask voters if they respect them enough to vote for them. As often as not, they are told, in the harshest way, “No.”
We, the constituents, are complicit agents in this process we disparage. We have to acknowledge our role in the dysfunction. We love to be pandered to. We are moved by negative campaigning. We demand from our representatives an unachievable purity, knowing that it’s impossible in the context of collaboration. The obscene amount of money and its influence works because we react to the campaigns they buy. We demand superheroes and stars — and that’s who politicians have to pretend to be to win us over.
Honestly, the best politician is the thoughtful, compassionate wonk with a moral compass who struggles with shame and doubt. If public service were populated with that character type, we would all be better off. The folks like that who serve now — and they are out there — lucked into it. They are the exception, though. The voters demand charisma and panache when we would be better served by deliberate plodders whom you couldn’t pick out of a crowd.
In fairness, it is next to impossible to discern an individual candidate’s true self. We can barely manage that when we’re on dates. So, we have to divine a politician’s integrity and ability from the stories they draft and tell.
But therein lies the danger of reverential blindness when we support one candidate over another. You should basically vote for character and stated positions, knowing that you won’t always agree with the person’s stands and that the candidate cannot single-handedly redefine the government to your liking. If you want to refer to the process as choosing the lesser of two evils, and that works for you … fine. But to maintain this clumsy system, driven and populated as it is by human frailty, we have to be less inclined to embrace the drama and more understanding of the imperfect nature of the way we are governed.
Bill Dwight is a Northampton city councilor and a pie wrangler at the Florence Pie Bar.