Have you had enough of politics, at least for this election season?
We’re only halfway through Icktober, if you know what I mean. Or would Sicktober be a better name for it?
First of all, if you’ve had enough, I’m not sure why you’re here. But welcome anyway, and please stay as long as you like.
Second, here’s a fun, apolitical meme.
I did something for the first time last week: I went to hear an independent presidential candidate speak. The venue was the ballroom at the historic Provo Library. The candidate was Evan McMullin.
The crowd ranged in age from infants to senior citizens, but it was dominated by people who looked like college students, including lots of couples. Many of them looked quite married, which accounts for the infants. We were mere blocks from BYU, after all.
I’ve heard actual US presidents speak, at the White House and elsewhere, and I’ve always been closer to them than I was to the podium tonight, even though it’s not a large ballroom. And there was a pillar blocking my view. But that was okay.
Before I arrived, and while I waited for the event to begin, I fashioned a series of tests for the candidate. I’ll tell you what they were and how he did. But first . . .
[Here are my notes on the first presidential debate and the vice presidential debate.]
My friends, welcome to The Freedom Habit, where we gaze into the abyss and report back, so you won’t have to.
You’re welcome. I’ll tell you how to thank me later.
The second presidential debate was Sunday evening. It was calculated by some to be the end of Donald Trump’s campaign, in the wake of some lecherous old audio someone released last week. It wasn’t that. Whether he won or not, I don’t know, but he survived for the moment.
I won’t say it was pretty.
I’ll tell you what I thought, and some of what was said, but if you want to be comprehensive, you’ll have to contemplate the abyss yourself. Video and a transcript are easy to find on the web.
It’s up to you to decide which of my thoughts are subjective and which are objective. I simply represent them as what I thought, either during or after the spectacle.
Prior to the vice presidential debate on Tuesday evening, I could not have picked Senator Tim Kaine (D-Virginia) or Governor Mike Pence (R-Indiana) out of a lineup. Nor would I have recognized their voices. I had heard of both, but knew only generally where they land on the political spectrum and how they carry themselves.
This is in sharp contrast to the candidates at the top of their tickets. I’ve been watching Hillary Clinton for 26 years or so, and trying not to watch Donald Trump for about that long.
Speaking of the presidential nominees . . .
If Sen. Kaine had not had to defend Mrs. Clinton’s indefensible character and record, and if Gov. Pence had not had to defend Mr. Trump’s countless indefensible words and dubious acts, the debate might have been more substantive, in terms of policy. Even so, it was better than the first presidential debate. And since I’m polishing this post after the second presidential debate (notes on that are next), I’ll say, this vice presidential debate is still the debate I recommend that you watch — if you think you should see a debate but your tolerance for the despicable is nearly spent, and if you want some coherent talk about policy from both sides.
I did it. Heaven help me, I did it. I watched the entire first presidential debate, from beginning to end.
I took only a few notes as I watched. But you can watch it yourself here or read a transcript here, and of course there will be multitudes offering to tell you what the candidates said and what it means and what you should think. There are already lots of fact-checkers too, and if I ever see one who appears nonpartisan, I’ll let you know.
For what it’s worth, I didn’t have time for the pregame chatter over the past few days, and I wasn’t interested in all the immediate postmortems, where everyone tries to spin the thing as if it were exactly what they wanted it to be.
Within minutes of the end, people were asking me who won the debate. I’ll answer that in a moment, but it’s not that simple.
We’ve entered the post-Labor Day season, during which, by tradition, many voters will begin taking our presidential race seriously.
Meanwhile, many of us have already been paying attention, and we like what we see far less than usual. We’re doing things like leaving our political parties and wondering if our deluded country isn’t worth our political exertions any more.
It’s time for me to make an announcement.
My friends, I am neither God nor the government, so I don’t expect you to think this is earthshaking, but . . .
I hereby grant you amnesty.
Perhaps I should explain.
Yes, amnesty.
To all of you.
No, not for everything you may have done lately. For example, some of you primary voters got us a choice between Trump and Clinton. I’m not presently offering amnesty for that.
Today’s amnesty is mostly preemptive. It’s for your vote or lack thereof in the presidential race this November — and for any reasons, opinions, or gut feelings you may have or offer in support of that vote (or nonvote).
National convention acceptance speeches are not perfect windows into candidates’ minds. But they pull in larger audiences than most other political speeches, so they’re crafted with unusual care. They’re a combination of what the candidate wants to say, what key advisors and benefactors want to hear, and what they all — candidate, advisors, donors, party officials, and pollsters alike — think the American people want to hear.
Precisely because they are a careful blend of so many things, they are interesting summaries of a party’s politics in a presidential election year. So this year’s speeches are not just old, pre-Olympic news. They’re useful portraits of our time.
The “what” is in my title. Here’s the “why.” Why I’m no longer a member of the Republican Party, that is.
It may help if I explain why I was a Republican in the first place — officially for one-third of a century, and unofficially for several years before that.
I conducted my first political poll before the 1976 Republican presidential primary in Idaho. I was in fifth grade. As went my poll of voters’ children, so went the actual vote in my adopted home state: former California Governor Ronald Reagan won by a huge margin over incumbent President Gerald Ford. Ford went on to win the nomination, then lost to Democrat and former Georgia Governor Jimmy Carter. Reagan was elected president in 1980 and reelected in 1984.
Even in 1976 I was aware that the GOP didn’t really want Ronald Reagan. He was too conservative for the party establishment. As we saw then and more strikingly in 1980, much of the rank and file felt differently.
Reagan was the biggest reason why, long before I could register to vote, I claimed to be a Republican. In a political sense at least, I was raised on his brief daily radio commentaries. His thinking made sense to me, and it still does. In 1984 I was pleased and proud to vote for him in my first presidential election and his last.
Convention season is upon us. I have hopes and fears — or at least some fervent wishes and grave concerns.
(I regret that my describing them will seem negative to some readers, and that I will be criticizing candidates some of you may support — and refusing to embrace your reasons for supporting them. If it’s of any comfort, I don’t insist that you agree with me, and I admit the possibility that I may be wrong. But I cannot tell you what I think without telling you what I think.)
My first hope: May God have mercy on our nation — even if we ourselves collectively may not. I don’t expect either convention to do us proud.
My second hope is that the people who sit back and think, “It’s working,” when they hear news of police officers being shot in our cities, won’t have any new cause for celebration in the next two weeks.
My third hope is that the only violence at either convention will be the violence of words. That will be toxic enough.
What I expect, when the conventions are finished, is a November choice among two tyrants-in-waiting and a libertarian. I wouldn’t mind seeing Libertarian Gary Johnson poll well enough to get into the presidential debates, but I won’t vote for him either.
It’s a sad week for American Fork. We lost two icons — one you probably know, another you might not.
Happily, they didn’t die. One retired, and the other resigned to pursue other opportunities.
Both have been public employees. Both have distinguished themselves in their professions. I have had the honor of knowing and working with both.
Yesterday, after 30 years as American Fork High School’s Director of Bands, Mr. John Miller conducted his last performance in that position, when the AFHS Wind Symphony played at commencement. Much praise has been heaped on him this year, whether he liked it or not, and he deserves all of it.
Wednesday was Chief Lance Call‘s last day at the head of the American Fork Police Department, after ten superb, understated years. He leaves more quietly, deserving but not wanting a lot more praise than he’ll get.
The two are very much alike. Both prefer to stand back and let others — staff or students — shine. Both have my gratitude and my admiration.
