If you haven't already, turn that anger over Roe (and all the other GOP crap) into activism
This post was originally published on this site
I am reprising the second half of my March 11 post Emotionally exhausted by the pandemic & our political predicament? Activism can be an antidote:
Under the circumstances, despair can be tempting. Understandably. So what I’m going to suggest as an antidote to the despair and depression and compassion fatigue isn’t meant to apply to everyone. I’m not about to tell anyone I understand their personal situation better than they do. Nor am I offering some quackery claiming activism cures all that ails you. But after nearly 60 years working side by side with activists in the streets, in elections, in prison, and in the media, I firmly believe activism can undermine personal and political malaise. Okay, call it half an antidote. But that’s a start, right?
Let me be clear: I’ve believed since I first became politically involved six decades ago that grassroots education and action “in the streets” are at the core of all reform initiatives and that elections are essential to getting those reforms confirmed. Both are needed. Whether altering police powers, confronting fascists, fighting environmental injustices, or putting rational, diverse people on school boards, it matters. The states are places needing far more activists, in particular state legislatures. So here’s my recommendation to help cope with the never-ending emotional and political baggage of the past two years:
Help build a stronger and more progressive Democratic Party bench by “adopting” and volunteering in the campaign of a state legislative candidate in your or a nearby district.
One thing about the electoral battles for the House of Representatives, the Senate, the presidency, and governorships is they never lack for attention or volunteers or paid campaign staff.
However, state legislatures are a crucial electoral battlefield that gets all too little attention from the media, from the national party, from donors, and from most grassroots activists who focus their attention on those candidates further up the ballot. State legislatures. You know, the bodies that, with a few exceptions, redraw the boundaries of political districts, often with outrageous gerrymanders, and pass laws about drugs, abortion, health care, guns, transportation, energy, law enforcement, environment, education, and a multitude of other matters that affect citizens on a daily basis.
Despite the impact they have, for most people the challengers and incumbents in state legislatures are just downballot names that they may be encountering for the first time and know nothing about. In most states, most activists don’t pay much mind to these actual and would-be legislators. This hurts.
Here’s why: Of the 99 state legislative bodies (Nebraska has a single house), 62 are now in the hands of Republicans, just 36 in the hands of Democrats, with Alaska having a multipartisan power-sharing arrangement. Ballotpedia gives us this detail: “As of March 7, 2022, Republicans controlled 54.40% of all state legislative seats nationally, while Democrats held 44.29%.” Ouch.
“Neglecting state legislative races pays dividends in bad policy. Right-wingers work diligently at the federal level to turn bad state policies into bad national policies. Some of this could be nipped in the bud. But a host of obstacles stands in the way …”
Happily, even prying loose a couple of hours a week to work the phones for a legislative candidate, canvass a neighborhood, or do whatever else is helpful to a campaign can make a huge difference in the outcome, just as comparatively small amounts of money can. What seems like a drop in the bucket for a congressional candidate can turn the election in a state legislature.
I’ve told this story before, but I’m of an age now when people should expect me to repeat myself.
A few weeks before the 2016 election, I knocked on every door in the small California apartment complex where I then lived, surveying people in 20 of the 24 units. (The others refused to participate.) I asked each person if they were registered to vote, and if so, which party. Then I asked if they knew who their state representative and state senator were.
Not one person did.
I can’t say this electoral ignorance is the case everywhere. It might not even be the case a block away where, instead of renters, most residents own their houses. However, based on my canvassing and supervising canvassing for decades over much broader areas, I suspect that the percentage of voters who can name their legislators is exceedingly low.
And that’s a big problem. It’s partly a product of the death of local newspapers and the shrinking space in surviving newspapers devoted to covering legislative matters, as well as new forms of media failing to pick up where the newspapers dropped the ball. It’s also partly due to Democratic Party failure to promote and fund year-round organizing at the precinct level. Yes, I have said this a few hundred times before: If every precinct were canvassed at least once a year (twice would be better), a lot of educating would go on. A lot more people would know who their state reps and senators are, and whether they’re worth keeping or should be replaced. They would be less willing to skip that line on the ballot. But with some exceptions, we have given up this kind of local organizing. We should restore it.
If you don’t know your state lawmakers and the candidates challenging them, find out. If you’re not happy with your representative and senator, “adopt” one of those challengers to support with your time, organizational skills, and, if you can afford it, your money. If you’re happy with those currently in office, perhaps you can adopt a candidate in a nearby district.
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This piece by Ben Wikler is worth reading: Why State Parties Are the First Line of Defense for Democracy.