READINGS

This quote came from email dispatches from Jakarta about the preparations for and result of June 7 Indonesian general election in 1999. The author, Mark Hoffman, is a resident of Jakarta, speaks Indonesian, and has been involved with many aspects of Indonesia, including arts and culture, business, and various kinds of consulting.

A small soccer ball skitters into the TPS [the Polling Station] and three 8 year old boys are shushed out of the school yard. I am having trouble sitting straight in my chair, a school chair, small even by Indonesian standards. ... The wooden chairs are very straight-backed and are of various construction, size, and levels of skill/attention to detail. Some are very rough and unfinished, some have rounded parts and are varnished, but all are well used. All the chairs and tables have neat little inventory numbers painted on in white paint.

Inside the twelve meter by four meter confines of the TPS all is calm and orderly. The opening process, which includes inspection of the materials, swearing in of the election officials and witnesses, and, in my TPS but not Jim's, the reading of a speech by the head of the election commission, is a serious ritual. The voting is also quiet and serious, even tense. Tense in the sense of high ritual, not from fear. Voices are lowered, and a decorum is followed in which, with exceptions of course, people do not much talk across the inside/outside border of the TPS, even if demarcated by only a strand or two of pink raffia.[1]

from essay Democracy: Optimal Illusions and Grim Realities, John Mueller

The nature of democracy has been debated for several millennia as philosophers and other thinkers have speculated about what it is, what it might become, and what it ought to be. After democracy actually came into being in large countries some 200 years ago, however, a remarkable dilemma emerged.

On the one hand, democracy worked rather well by the values most theorists and idealists have held to be important. When compared to competing forms of government and methods for organizing society, democracy has characteristically produced societies that have been humane, flexible, productive, and vigorous, and under this system leaders have somehow emerged who--at least in comparison with your average string of kings or czars or dictators--have generally been responsive, responsible, able, and dedicated.

On the other hand, democracy didn't come out looking the way many theorists and idealists imagined it could or should. It has been characterized by a great deal of unsightly and factionalized squabbling by self-interested, short-sighted people and groups, and its policy outcomes have often been the result of a notably unequal contest over who could most adroitly pressure and manipulate the system. Even more distressingly, the citizenry seems disinclined to display anything remotely resembling the deliberative qualities many theorists have been inclined to see as a central requirement for the system to work properly. Indeed, far from becoming the attentive, if unpolished, public policy wonks espoused in many of the theories and images, real people in real democracies often display an almost monumental lack of political interest and knowledge.

Inspired by their optimal illusion and confounded by grim democratic reality, disappointed theorists, idealists, and reformers have generally taken one of two courses to deal with this mismatch. One is to retreat into the vapor and to conclude that democracy, as it turns out, doesn't really exist at all, but that it is just some sort of attractive goal. Thus, in February 1990, Czechoslovak president Václav Havel patiently explained to the Congress of the world's oldest democracy that the country it represented still hadn't made it and, actually, never would: "As long as people are people, democracy in the full sense of the word will always be no more than an ideal; one may approach it as one would a horizon, in ways that may be better or worse, but it can never be fully attained. In this sense you are also merely approaching democracy"[2]

SERMON

I've been fretting about what I'd say to you this morning that you haven't already heard a thousand times before. The interminable length of our presidential election campaigns and the suffocating coverage they get is enough to make most of us ill. I shared a few ideas with Philomena Thursday morning about what I might say. She yawned, shook her head and said, "Sam, just don't be boring."

Discouraged that what I thought would be interesting ways to encourage people to vote didn't inspire Philomena, I sat in the recliner and pondered further what I could say. As I sat there, I noticed on the table next to the chair was my son Andy's elaborate time machine he had been working on made out of Legos. It was quite sophisticated with many buttons and dials. Legos are getting more hi-tech each year with the addition of computers and even sensors. I thought to myself, perhaps if I set the time machine for November 7^th, I could get some ideas for my sermon. I absentmindedly set the controls, relaxed, closed my eyes and pushed the start button.

I know your not going to believe this, but all of a sudden I felt this jolt and feeling of being sucked into a hole, as if I was going down the drain in a whirlpool. Before I could think, I suddenly felt myself in my car driving up Johnston Road. The sun was in the east so I knew it must be morning but I felt very, very strange. I wanted to look at my watch and see what time it was but my arm didn't move. In fact, I was completely out of control of my body. I could feel everything that was happening - but I couldn't do anything to change what happened next. It was as if I was not just watching a movie - but living it.

Sam glanced at his watch and some thoughts went through his head about needing to hurry. The watch said 9:00am and the date was November 7^th. All of a sudden I realized I was in the future. The time machine had transported me to election day so I could see what was going to happen inside myself as I went to the polls. I wouldn't be able to affect that future, but I could experience it as it unfolded. Not only would I be able to see into the future, I'd be able to experience myself in the third person! I bubbled over with excitement - to be one of the first true time travelers. I made a mental note to contact a patent lawyer if and when I returned to present time and take Andy out for ice cream.

My attentions abruptly pulled back to the future as the sensations of a burp rippled through my throat. My breakfast of brown rice, sesame seeds and soymilk was being digested with some mental satisfaction and a feeling of fullness. His mind seemed pretty blank as he looked out the side window, down at the speedometer and back at the road as a car whizzed past. Then a thought appeared about maybe having orange spiced tofu for lunch. Great, I thought, I'm hoping for some profound thoughts and all I'm getting is food fantasies.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait very long. Sam started remembering voting in California and how much fun it was. The ballot in California didn't just have candidates to vote for but also propositions, some of which were voter initiatives. This allowed the voter to participate in making state policy. Everyone got a detailed ballot in the mail that had the actual text of the propositions, a fiscal analysis, and a pro and con statement for each one. These propositions have had a major impact on California for good or ill. Proposition 13 had a dramatic impact on education. 187 on bi-lingual education. Propositions made voting in California interesting and exciting.

Then Sam started remembering voting in Florida which was not as exciting. Florida didn't have propositions. Voting in Port Charlotte was disappointing for a life-long Democrat because the county was heavily Republican. The Democrats who wanted to get elected changed their party affiliation. The one really good thing about voting in Florida was getting a little sticker that said, "I voted." I thought Sam was being a little superficial in his enjoyment of getting a stupid sticky little piece of paper. Now he was remembering how much pride it gave him to show off to the world that he had voted. He always voted early so he could wear it to a regular Tuesday morning conversation group at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. A little too much ego for a Buddhist meditator, I thought to myself.

Sam pulled into the parking lot for the Westmere Volunteer Fire Hall. The air was crisp as he tightened his coat walking across the asphalt following the signs to the polling place. A few people were talking to each other holding campaign just outside the 100 foot perimeter. Stepping inside that line, Sam was now on his own in deciding how to vote.

The fire hall was fairly empty as many people were already at work and it was early for the next wave of voters to arrive. Immediately a flood of opinion, judgment and cynicism rushed into Sam's mind. Images of pundits decrying low voter turn-out. A memory of Ralph Nader calling Bush and Gore, tweedle dee and tweedle dum. His emotional temperature began to rise thinking about the shameless solitication both Bush and Gore had done to select special interest groups who might secure them the election. Neither of the candidates were giving their core constituencies succor. He experienced his ambivalence about this pandering into the middle of the road and the attraction of a protest vote for Nader. And what about all that money spent by political action committees splurging on issue ads trying to basically buy my vote and sway me toward their candidate. And the media's inane coverage of the election in the same way they might cover a sporting event or an entertainment award focusing on image and personality rather than substance and ideas.

Suddenly Sam stopped. I was horrified as his mood began to sink. A feeling of hopelessness started to come over him. He started thinking about all the big problems in the world that had not been throughly discussed in the campaign Supposedly these issues didn't matter to the undecided voters both candidates were courting. Since meeting Bill Batt and getting turned on to some web sites and discussion lists on the Internet, Sam has been obsessing over forecasts of doom when oil production peaks and begins declining in the next 5 to 10 years. The summer price shocks in Britain showed just how politically destabilizing price increases could be. Sam had hoped Al Gore would make renewable energy and the environment a centerpiece of his campaign -- but he hadn't. Global warming, ozone depletion, the extinction of more and more species, pollution, deforrestation, the dying coral reefs, over-fishing our oceans, all these concerns made Sam's view of the future dimmer and dimmer.

Sam glanced over his shoulder. I could feel him turning his body as if to walk out in disgust. Neither candidate seemed to get the importance of stopping the drug war, that has decimated our inner cities. The problem isn't just an international drug pipeline to be sealed off at the border. The problem is really here at home too. Places like Kansas where farm chemicals are converted into meth-amphetamine. Chemicals so toxic and explosive they threaten both people and the environment. And what about how the drug wars were fueling international terrorism and destroying societies. And what about global population pressures that drive all these problems and make them worse. So many really important problems were not getting talked about.

I didn't know what might happen next, Sam's mood was so foul. The prickly sensations in his body were most uncomfortable. Before he could turn his body to walk out, another thought arose that caused a warming and softening. Sam was now thinking now about his mother and father who often discussed these problems at the dinner table when he was growing up. They had never lost hope and always voted. Our civilization hadn't ended with the oil embargo in the 70's as many were predicting. The future may yet take a turn that might yield unanticipated solutions. Maybe cold fusion can be made to work or something else will be discovered using nanotechnology and solve the coming energy crisis. One of the candidates may even have been thinking about and may actually have a secret plan they aren't talking about and really do care about the environment and the future of all humanity.

I relaxed as Sam smiled and walked to the table where a nice older woman looked up his name and showed him where to sign. He got in a second line waiting for a voting machine. There was a fellow in overhauls in front of him talking to another fellow wearing dirty jeans who hadn't shaved for a few days. Both of them were wearing buttons for Bush. Sam's mind started proliferating on this image. I braced myself for more unpleasant thoughts that I made a mental note to correct if I could. HIs comfortable middle class background made him an easy mark sometimes for elitist thoughts.

Sam began thinking about the empty headed reasons people on radio talk shows expressed in support of their candidate they planned to vote for. People don't research the issues and the backgrounds of the candidates well enough to decide how to cast their vote. Superficial reasons like, "I think I can trust him," or "he has a nice smile," or "he gave his wife a great kiss." Too many would be voting one issue rather than looking at the candidate as a whole. Yet even more would be voting the straight party line.

I was pleased when this bout of egotism began to ebb as Sam reflected on his own reasons for voting. Sam hadn't researched the local candidates in Guilderland and hadn't a clue who they were. He was voting based on the recommendation of a few congregational members from Guilderland. And for the others, well, the family tradition was always to vote Democratic. I was pleased to see Sam starting to feel a little embarrassed.

Finally his turn came and into the voting machine he went, pulling the curtain across by throwing the lever. In this small, enclosed space, a feeling of great appreciation swept over Sam, almost like a little religious epiphany. I had forgotten how good this felt as he paused and looked at his choices, feeling the voting power in his hands. His mind filled with images and gratitude.

He thought of the long lines of dark skinned people waiting for hours to vote for the first time in South Africa; the Kosovo Albanians jubilance at getting a chance to elect their own leaders; the reverence of the Indonesians voting Suharto's party out of office. With the power of the ballot, people are ennobled. With the power of the ballot the leaders cannot ignore the needs of the many and cater only to the wealthy and powerful. With the power of the ballot, people can and do throw the rascals out.

Sam thought about the places in the world where elections didn't work to humble the powerful. Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein's reign of terror has no accountability to the people. China's outrageous oppression of the religious Falun Gong movement. Corrupt African dictators who are loyal to their race or tribe rather than their nation or land.

As Sam flipped the voting levers, he thought about Eliot Spitzer who won by only 25,000 votes. That's two people per polling place. His vote could be the one deciding who would be the next New York Senator or even the President of the United States. I was buoyed up a feeling of nationalistic pride that swept through Sam's body.

Sam's heart filled with generosity and compassion. Whoever won, most of these candidates were good and decent people. While their political philosophies might be different, none of them were just for big federal government or just for state's rights. None of them were simply puppets of big corporations or special interest groups. He trusted they could all think for themselves and take a stand. No one voting in 1988 for the first Bush for president, knew they would be voting for the Gulf War. The candidates stand on issues give us but a fleeting glimpse into a person's spirit. The real life situations the one's elected will face will likely shape their answers, in response to the people's needs.

Sam flipped the last lever and opened the curtain registering his vote. I noticed his feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment. He had participated in the most sacred right a secular society can offer. A chance to exercise the power of determining the future leadership of our nation. I was proud of my future me and the way he voted. Not held to prejudice or habit, he made considered votes. By voting he'd earned the pride of helping get his candidate into office and the right to gripe about the ones he didn't vote for who get in.

As Sam left the voting booth, I started to realize that since I was now traveling in time, I could find out who was going to win the election and make a prediction this Sunday. If I just tagged along in Sam's head, by tonight I'd know who was going to win. As I was thinking these thoughts, I felt someone touching my arm even though no one was touching Sam's arm. Suddenly I was sucked back into that whirlpool and before I knew it, I opened my eyes and saw Philomena as she was saying, "how's the sermon coming? You're snoring suggests not well."

I sat bolt upright. "Where am I," I asked her as I glanced at my watch. It was 2:00pm on Thursday and Andy had just come home from school and was disassembling his time machine. I gasped and grabbed it away from him frantically trying to put it back together, hoping to catapult myself a little further into the future to see who won. Try as I might, I couldn't get the pieces back into that special combination that had worked before.

Needless to say, Philomena and Andy were both amused at my time travel story. Perhaps some of you here today are too.

But I tell you, it felt as real as I'm standing here right now ... or am I?

Copyright (c) 2000 by Samuel A. Trumbore. All rights reserved.