This whole election thing has gotten to me. Here in Puerto Rico, the sure bet win for the Statehood party (PNP – Partido Nuevo Progresista) candidate Pedro Roselló was basically in the bag... only the bag had a hole in it. The Puerto Rico Independence party (PIP – Partido Independentista Puertorriqueño ), fearful of moving toward statehood for Puerto Rico, whored themselves... err... pooled their votes and voted for the Commonwealth Party (PPD – Partido Popular Democrático ) candidate. As of this morning, the final results are not in, but it's looking bad for our candidate. Sigh, it's got me depressed. Do you people live on the same planet as I do? Are you blind to the way Puerto Rico has fallen apart in the last four years?
I did my part though. I did my civic duty. Laura and I were election officials and we tallied and counted and certified the results for our voting unit. We were part of the process, and it was fair as far our little corner was concerned. I trust that it was equally fair throughout the island as well.
What more could we have done?
As for the national US election, being residents of a US Commonwealth, I may not vote even though I was born there, lived my entire life there, and am an officer in the US Army Reserve. If I lived abroad in any other country, including Israel, Britain, France, Germany, Brazil etc, I would be able to vote absentee in the last state in which I resided. This would remain true even if I were never to return, nor had any intention of returning to the US. But since I live in Puerto Rico, I have no vote, no voice.
Still, I followed the US election with much interest. Puerto Rico is still governed by the mainland just as if we were a state... but we have no vote in Congress or the Senate. Was I Bushie, or was I for Kerry? I would have been one of the famous undecideds – up until Monday night, when I decided I would cast a ballot for Kerry if given the chance. I finally came to the conclusion that Kerry was just smarter, more prudent, and less of a loose canon than our current President. Kerry, in my mind, was the more respectful candidate, the more thoughtful candidate, more of a consensus builder, more a team player. Bush on the other hand, seemed to appeal to Americans' fear, fear of gays, fear of terrorists, fear of loss of religious values. I am particularly worried by his “Mission Accomplished” attitude, by his recklessness, his smugness, his bully pulpit from which he feels ordained to bring religion and government together, one nation under God. Gives me shivers.
This I decided coldly without hatred, without malice. I decided it with my mind. I drew it out and calculated pros and cons.
But there was this incongruity, something for which I was not prepared. As I watched the returns, I kept sub-consciously rooting for Bush states. There was this little voice that kept saying, “Whee!” and when a state fell Kerry's way, I felt a tiny little twinge of pain. From where do you spring to strike me, I wailed, thrashing at the dark shadows that assailed me. I have decided with my rational mind to vote for Kerry, but there was a sweetness from Bush victories.
I reflected upon my pain and joy, and it brought me back a week, a week in which the team of my youth, the St. Louis Cardinals faced off with the hapless Boston Red Sox, a team with a very long dry spell for world series titles. I said to myself, “I'm a Cardinal, but I hope the Red Sox win. They deserve it. I hope the curse ends.” I didn't really care though, I tried to convince myself, but I kept checking online and flicking to the channel to see how the Sox were doing. If I was honest with myself, I could tell my heart was rooting for the Cardinals. Every time Boston would score a run, I felt the pain, the disappointment. Come on, let's get this thing going, I would secretly hope. When the Sox clinched it in four games, my mouth said, good, but there was this dry lump there stuck in my throat. It would have been nice to have made a series out of it, gone to seven games, but hell – good for them. But my heart was crying, a little depressed for the loss of the team of my youth.
So it was last night and today with Bush and Kerry. I still say Kerry would have been a better president, but my heart keeps rooting for Bush. What the hell is it that has hijacked my subconscious?
Politics is a contest for the Strong-man. I think it secretly appeals to us. The high gentlemanly road is seldom traveled by the strong-man. The strong-man consistently beats his chest in the jungles below, battling tigers, getting bloody, and growling in surly unintelligible tones (note Bush's debate performances). He is beating up on his opponent, hitting him below the belt, attacking, attacking, attacking. The opponent traveling the high road has been waylaid by our marauder... and we cheer. Damn that son-of-a-bitch is tough. Did you see that, we whisper to each other. That fellow didn't stand a chance. Sure the low blow was ugly, and we winched feeling the pain of the high-minded fellow cupping his 'nads in his hands.
Bush won because politicos are nothing more than alpha males, strong-men who rise to the top not for their big ideas, their compassion, duty, service, high ideals, or academic vision. They get there because they defeat their opponents with clubs, and sticks, and rocks, and in any manner with whatever tool or whatever deception. It's the ultimate fighting championship in the political arena, a no holds barred, knock-down drag-out, brawl where the winner is decided by who pummeled whom into a bloody pulp. Do we kind of fear the winner a little? Do we like the winner? Does our mind tell us that this is the person we want leading the country? Or do our little monkey hearts beat faster with exhilaration as we scream and screech throwing up our arms and dancing upon the bloodied corpse of John Kerry?
We love a strong-man, it exhilarates us in ways we can't control, can't reign in, can't comprehend. And they know it, damn them.