“Political obsessives” is colorful enough. Ezra Klein cites the description from “Politics Is for Power” (2020) by Eitan Hersh. They are people who refresh-refresh their Twitter feed and flip over to Facebook to see what’s popped up there in the last few minutes, then run to the kitchen to tell the family what’s happened in the last hour.
Hersh calls it “political hobbyism.” Real politics is something else, Klein agrees:
Real political work, for Hersh, is the intentional, strategic accumulation of power in service of a defined end. It is action in service of change, not information in service of outrage. This distinction is on my mind because, like so many others, I’ve spent the week revisiting the attempted coup of Jan. 6, marinating in my fury toward the Republicans who put fealty toward Donald Trump above loyalty toward country and the few but pivotal Senate Democrats who are proving, day after day, that they think the filibuster more important than the franchise. Let me tell you, the tweets and columns I drafted in my head were searing.
But fury is useful only as fuel. We need a Plan B for democracy. Plan A was to pass H.R. 1 and the John Lewis Voting Rights Act. Neither bill, as of now, has a path to President Biden’s desk. I’ve found that you provoke a peculiar anger if you state this, as if admitting the problem were the cause of the problem. I fear denial has left many Democrats stuck on a national strategy with little hope of near-term success. In order to protect democracy, Democrats have to win more elections. And to do that, they need to make sure the country’s local electoral machinery isn’t corrupted by the Trumpist right.
And by elections he does not mean federal ones, the marquee races that earn coverage on broadcast and cable news networks. The ones that need the most attention are the unsexy races at the state and local level. If for no other reason than that while progressives flail about and throw money at doomed, high-profile races, Republicans, as they’ve done with school board races, look for the easy pickups where real power lies. Potentially, with the power to corrupt future elections.
There are people working on a Plan B. This week, I half-jokingly asked Ben Wikler, the chairman of the Wisconsin Democratic Party, what it felt like to be on the front lines of protecting American democracy. He replied, dead serious, by telling me what it was like. He spends his days obsessing over mayoral races in 20,000-person towns, because those mayors appoint the city clerks who decide whether to pull the drop boxes for mail-in ballots and small changes to electoral administration could be the difference between winning Senator Ron Johnson’s seat in 2022 (and having a chance at democracy reform) and losing the race and the Senate. Wikler is organizing volunteers to staff phone banks to recruit people who believe in democracy to serve as municipal poll workers, because Steve Bannon has made it his mission to recruit people who don’t believe in democracy to serve as municipal poll workers.
I’ve written before that every other new activist who wanders into our local headquarters wants to do messaging. They’re going to write the white paper that will remake Democratic politics nationwide. Some never return when they find out the real work is grunt work: knocking doors, making phone calls, organizing a fundraiser. Klein cites a quote often attributed to Gen. Omar Bradley: Amateurs talk strategy; professionals talk logistics.
I suppose that makes me a professional. I’m working now to get out the 4th edition of my get-out-the-vote (GOTV) primer for county committees.* No strategy, no targeting, no messaging. It’s the nuts-and-bolts mechanics behind assembling a coordinated, countywide GOTV and electioneering effort, especially for the kind of under-resourced small counties Wikler’s obsessing over.
Granted, ours is one of the ten largest counties in the state: 660 square miles, 270,000 residents, 200,000 registered voters, 80 Election-Day precincts, 15-20 early voting sites open for 2-1/2 weeks, and perhaps 36 Democrats on a presidential-year ballot. Over two-thirds of the vote is cast before Election Day. We put two volunteers on two-hour shifts outside each early-voting location (over 2,000 shifts) to greet voters, answer questions, hand out sample ballots, and report problems. Those volunteers have to be recruited, trained, scheduled, supplied, resupplied, and sometimes debriefed. That’s not strategy. That’s logistics. And we’re damned good at it.
Who in the whole friggin’ country trains inexperienced county committee leaders how to do all that? You’re reading him.
“We do not have one federal election,” said Amanda Litman, a co-founder of Run for Something, which helps first-time candidates learn about the offices they can contest and helps them mount their campaigns. “We have 50 state elections and then thousands of county elections. And each of those ladder up to give us results.
Those first-time candidates Litman supports rely on county committee infrastructure — if it exists — to support her candidates. One of her campaigns might have to compete for resources in my county with 35 others. Having that local support is the difference between winning and losing.
“Democratic major donors like to fund the flashy things,” Litman told me. “Presidential races, Senate races, super PACs, TV ads. Amy McGrath can raise $90 million to run against Mitch McConnell in a doomed race, but the number of City Council and school board candidates in Kentucky who can raise what they need is …” She trailed off in frustration.
Yup. And those local races matter. Ask Lina Hidalgo, age 30:
Lina Hidalgo ran for county judge in Harris County, Texas, after the 2016 election. Trump’s campaign had appalled her, and she wanted to do something. “I learned about this position that had flown under the radar for a very long time,” she told me. “It was the type of seat that only ever changed who held it when the incumbent died or was convicted of a crime. But it controls the budget for the county. Harris County is nearly the size of Colorado in population, larger than 28 states. It’s the budget for the hospital system, roads, bridges, libraries, the jail. And part of that includes funding the electoral system.”
If you heard about Hidalgo fighting state Republicans over drive-in voting in Harris County in 2020, it is clear: those small races matter.
Wikler knows:
“If you want to fight for the future of American democracy, you shouldn’t spend all day talking about the future of American democracy,” Wikler said. “These local races that determine the mechanics of American democracy are the ventilation shaft in the Republican death star. These races get zero national attention. They hardly get local attention. Turnout is often lower than 20 percent. That means people who actually engage have a superpower. You, as a single dedicated volunteer, might be able to call and knock on the doors of enough voters to win a local election.”
My state representative retires at the end of this month after 18 years. Under state law, members of the local executive committee of her political party and from her district name someone to fill the remainder of her term. That’s roughly 60 people out of about 70,000 registered voters in her district. Last Thursday night, we elected a former Peace Corps volunteer to recommend to the governor for appointment. He won with 43 votes. Showing up is a superpower.
*Look closely at the gray counties on the map above. Except for a couple of New England states, they represent counties either lacking Democratic committees or else having no discernable web presence.
UPDATE: I just caught this related post about the future plans of “Stop the Stealers” from Tim Miller at The Bulwark:
In 2022 they aim to put so many of their people in positions of power throughout state and local governments that next time there will be nothing anyone can do to stop their quest for power. And this crusade is infused with an unmistakable religious fervor and appeal to a quasi-Christian nationalism that calls it devotees into action.
As crazy as their show may sound on its face—and let me tell you it seems very crazy—anyone who cares about American democracy should take that prospect very seriously indeed.