The power of silence

Tuesday, November 2, 2010.

Election day.

Schools, churches and community centers across America sit quietly in the early morning darkness.

Inside, the lights are on.  Retirees press American flag stickers to their lapels, pour coffee into styrofoam cups, and scoot metal folding chairs closer to wooden tables.  On the tables are lists of names of people who will soon arrive to cast votes in the makeshift privacy booths with blue curtains.

Finally, the clock strikes 7 a.m.

A volunteer unlocks the front doors.

Outside, waiting in line, is no one.

::

At 7:15 a.m., a senator running for re-election walks into the most popular diner in his hometown.

He wears a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

A table of farmers in mesh trucker caps and insulated overalls look up when they hear the ding of the door.  The Senator makes eye contact and smiles.  The farmers look back down at their eggs and keep talking.  The senator approaches their table and introduces himself.  The farmers ask him to pronounce his name again.

“BYE,” the Senator says.  ”Like, ‘Goodbye.’”

“You know?” one of the farmers says.  ”That seems like a good idea.”

The four men get up and leave.

::

At the senator’s campaign office across town, a staffer opens her laptop, turns on the television and digs in to watch a day of returns.  This is her Super Bowl.

But instead of exit polls and interviews with candidates, the news is focused on other events.  CNN airs an in-depth investigation of BP’s coverup efforts during the oil spill.  Fox News panelists discuss the alternative fuel industry and, in particular, how jobs can be created from it.  The town’s local CBS affiliate runs a feature about the connection between soda and obesity and the overall need for better nutrition in public schools, then airs an in-depth investigative report about how one of the town’s largest employers promised job expansion in exchange for tax breaks, which it is now trying to collect despite laying off workers instead of hiring them.

The campaign staffer gives up on channel surfing and shifts her focus to her laptop.  She clicks to the New York Times, which bustles with front-page news.  None of it regards her senator.  In fact, none of it regards any senators.  Or any national politics, for that matter.  The staffer is dumbstruck.  She looks at the navigation pane along the left side of the web page where sections like SPORTS and TECH are listed.

POLITICS.

The staffer clicks it.  But instead of election hoopla — live polls, feature stories, pictures of perfectly coiffed trust fund heirs greeting the masses with too-white smiles — all that exists on the page are the simple voting records of each member of the House and Senate and a list of the corporations that have contributed money to their campaigns.

Clearly frustrated, the staffer sits back in her chair, looks around the office and sighs.

Just then, a BAYH FOR SENATOR yard sign loses its adhesiveness and falls off the front window.

::

Revolution.

Notice how people use that word these days?  We need a revolution, they say.  They’re talking, of course, about government.  About politics.  About politicians who, despite claims and promises to the contrary, never deviate from the status quo of legislative gridlock, attack ads, outrageous publicity stunts, lies, affairs, scandals and, alas, corporate handouts.

The public wants something different, yet the only way we think we can make an impact is to create a new political party (Tea, anyone?), stand on a street corner with a sign, or vote the bastard out of office in favor of a new bastard who we’ll hate in two or four years.

What we fail to understand, however, is that when we pay attention we still participate in the madness.  A fire needs oxygen to survive, and here we are fanning the flames with demonstrations and phone calls to talk radio shows.  We watch, we listen, we form opinions, we get angry and we vote — all of which keeps us engaged.

Just how the media and politicians want it.

So here’s an idea for 2010: Don’t participate.

In fact, don’t do anything.

Don’t vote.  Don’t click the link to a story about a congressional candidate who says something outrageous just to make headlines.  When NPR runs a story about politics, turn your radio off.  When CNN gets a political roundtable together, switch the channel.  Don’t play the game.  Don’t participate.

Could you imagine if not a single person showed up to a polling station on election day?

What would happen?

::
Gene Weingarten of the Washington Post went to Muskegon in 2004 to profile a guy who doesn’t vote. And George Carlin, of course, is brilliant:

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