Fear and Loyalty on the Campaign Trail
Presidential campaigns used to provide great opportunities for
Americans all over the country to see in person—perhaps even get a
handshake or autograph from—the candidates competing for the highest
office in the land. That included incumbent Presidents who would venture
forth from the cocoon of the Oval Office to mingle with the masses, hoping
that a personal connection might prompt more people to vote for them. Even
Richard Nixon at his most beleaguered and reclusive moments occasionally
mixed with the public, once greeting anti-war protesters on the Washington
Mall.
This political season, however, the rules of the game have changed.
Only one of the major-party candidates seems interested in getting up
close and personal with the voters. At a public rally I attended a couple
months ago, John Kerry spent more than half an hour walking through the
crowd, introducing himself to as many of us as possible. He not only shook
my hand but also took the time to engage in pleasantries—even though no
cameras were focused on him as we chatted. He did the same with scores of
others who simply showed up that day without special invitation.
By contrast, President Bush and Vice President Cheney have been making
appearances almost exclusively in front of their most dedicated
supporters. In fact, at several recent rallies, the only way to get inside
the door has been to sign a loyalty oath. Hard as it is to believe, at
such venues as a Bush campaign rally in Portland and a Cheney rally in
Albuquerque, all the President’s Men allowed entrance only to those who
would sign a form pledging their support of the ticket.
It gets even worse. In Albuquerque, for example, the Bushmen required
rally-goers to provide their home addresses, phone numbers, and driver’s
license numbers. Then they checked computerized lists to determine each
person’s party registration and whether there was any prior evidence of
support for the incumbent. In other words, if someone had contributed
money to the campaign or volunteered for it, admittance was offered. If no
information could be found on folks wanting to see and hear their
President (or if they were not registered Republicans), they were directed
to a designated cordoned-off area beyond ear or eye reach of the event.
A Republican National Committee event coordinator acknowledged that
such screenings have had nothing to do with security concerns. There are
plenty of other ways to keep potentially dangerous characters away.
Rather, the idea has been to prevent any dissenters from voicing
opposition to the Republican candidates—thus disturbing a
well-orchestrated, picture-perfect news bite.
In New Mexico, even a credentialed reporter for the daily Albuquerque
Journal was turned away when he refused to sign the form which read,
"I, (full name), do herby (sic) endorse George W. Bush for reelection
of the United States…
In signing the above endorsement you are consenting to use and release
of your name by Bush-Cheney as an endorser of President Bush."
Similarly rejected from a Presidential rally, a writer and former
Rehoboth Beach resident who currently lives in Oregon had been hoping to
attend both Bush’s and Kerry’s recent same-day appearances in
Portland. He sent me an email, expressing his disappointment and
frustration: "I thought it would be a unique opportunity to see and
hear both candidates in a single day. But the Bush people sent me packing
because I wouldn’t sign their oath. Only about 2,000 were allowed to see
Bush, but more than 25,000 of us got to see Kerry. There were some
pro-Bush hecklers in the crowd, but it didn’t seem to bother Kerry’s
people. Doesn’t that kind of thing just come with the territory of
running for PUBLIC office?"
Well, it used to—back in the day when presidential contenders worried
less about the presence of a few of their opponents and more about the
opportunity to share their vision personally with as many potential voters
as possible.
If the Bush-Cheney style of carefully targeted campaign stumping begins
to take hold, getting out the vote will have little to do with getting out
among the voters. It may not be long until none of us is deemed qualified
to be in the presence of the political leadership. Our citizenry is likely
to see nothing of its president other than formal announcements emanating
from a pre-taped talking head. In the same way many of us have questioned
the authenticity of televised appearances of Osama bin Laden, we’ll
wonder whether our President is alive—or Memorex.
As I suggested in another column earlier this summer, it’s getting
closer to 1984 every day.
To end on a more optimistic note, an ethics panel of the American Bar
Association is seriously considering adoption of a policy that would
prohibit judges from joining clubs or organizations that discriminate on
the basis of sexual orientation. The nation’s largest association of
lawyers writes conduct rules for judges as well as attorneys, and it
already forbids judges from joining groups that discriminate on the basis
of race or sex. The matter is expected to come up for a vote during next
summer’s ABA convention. If passed, it will put even more pressure on
groups like the Boy Scouts to repeal their anti-gay membership policies.
But even the ABA probably won’t be able to stop a political party from
turning away anyone it wishes from campaign rallies.
Bill Sievert, a former Rehoboth resident and longtime contributor to
Letters, is editor of Sunshine Artist Magazine and author of the book All
for the Cause: Campaign Buttons for Social Change. He may be reached at